One chapter from a book sometimes tells
you everything you need to know; hell, the first page can usually do
that. Into my hot little hands has come three books by Indian
writers, and I gave them all the same treatment, opening chapters
only, just to get a feel of where they might go. Isn't that the most
exciting moment ever?
Behind the Silicon Mask
Eshwar Sundaresan
A serial killer with a distinct and
gruesome style, a couple of Indian dudes and a cop whose dourness is
an instant lure meant I, gasp, read the Prologue AND Chapter One. The
book begins with Partho Sen who had me at his particular hello, which
was seeing “the violence of capitalism” in a snowflake. I like
seeing things in new ways, and writers who see things in new ways, so
meeting other characters speaking in an easy-going style as opposed
to the penchant for stiff oratory many subcontinent authors pitfall
into, I'm optimistic that this is heading into readable territory.
Banquet on the Dead
Sharath Komarraju
This reveals my own idiosyncracies. I
find the whole small locality-appachan-ammachy motif painful
in the extreme; they so rarely escape clichedom. Here's a
murder-mystery, as they say, but whether it will rise to the
Sherlock-Watson level it aspires to....Inspector Nagarajan and
rogue-turned-detective 'Hamid Pasha' try. There are some brushstrokes
of colour that's intriguing, as when the good Inspector tells his
client exactly what Hamid's background is, the bad boy image getting
its outline well-enough to intrigue, but here also is a fine example
of the stiff oratory mentioned above. Many of the conversations are
like meringue, whipped to within an inch of its natural consistency.
Sophie Says
Judy Balan
Emotionally shaken but not stirred
Sophie Tilgum morphs from market research maven to girl-about-town
Carrie Bradshaw, making a business out of straightening people's
flailing love affairs as The Break-Up Coach. Like a mirror held up to
Indian adult relationships these days, Balan does a fine job of
showing the superficiality and need for instant gratification that
goes under the guise of love. But Helen Fielding she ain't. Sophie
Says is well-written froth, realistically drawn but you will
learn no life lessons and come on, Bridget Jones was both funny
and interesting. That marketing flavour in Balan's protagonist
and writing emerges early on. You'll hear about BF Denver Cunningham,
The Blah-Blah Auntyhood and colleague Botox Booma, who is the
recipient of Sorted Sophie's first response which goes as follows:
“He clearly has no interest in the world around him and he puts out
your fire,” and her advise is to drop the man forthwith. Great. But
I don't really care. Will I as the story rolls on? That's for you to
find out.
