The Inheritance of Loss

When I was 50 pages in, I questioned myself as to why the three man booker prize winners I had read had the thing they had in common, there, i.e like this sentence itself, their ability to stretch the visions and meanings of the things they want to convey, in long sentences, which, in the end, calls for either a very very slow re-read or a warning to read the next pages with the slowest reading speed possible. Perhaps, it is just me who feels like it. I was amazed at ability of the clarity of the conversion of words to convert scenes into real pictures in the mind, I was my director of the camera, and unlike other readings there were colours in the motion picture of the mind, while reading. Kiran's ability to put sarcasm and use it to pique the interest of the line, is tremendous. It felt almost like a free flow in the story lines, apart from the occasional pre planned processes of who unfolds in what scene and where. I like this kind of unfolding, seems more organic. And the fact that the story was set in the first half of 20th century's Northeast India was aided by that organism. There were many instances, when I felt I should leave the book, because it was becoming tiresome and cumbersome to read anymore, the story was stretching. But as I started with the fourth half of the book, the intricacies of judge, his past, how he had treated his wife, how he treated his cook, how Lola and Noni were as they always had been, Biju's struggle to home, it kinda all fell into place with the last 5 pages of the book. Language wise, I learnt a lot from Kiran's writing, it was my first book of her. It's a good read. I would have given the book 3 stars, but I gave four because I learnt a lot from how she wrote, linguistically speaking : The choice of words, the structure of the sentences, and a lot more.

I absolutely loved this book. The plot of the book acts as a mere backdrop of the novel. It's the people that are at the helm and it is their emotions and personal experiences that act as the driving force of the book. I found the way the book was written as a metaphor to what the author was trying to convey in the book (or at the very least, what my interpretation of it was). It was so poetic! This book is a work of art and must be cherished in the same fashion. It took me on a journey, not just to Kalimpong in the yesteryears, but also through my own self: the little pleasures and pains that we are sometimes too busy or too close to observe, hold and appreciate.

The writing is beautiful, captivating, rich. The characters feel real, and not all of them in pleasant ways; as for the places described, Desai transports you right to where the characters are. There’s tragedy here, yet not so much tragedy to make this feel like made-up torture porn: it’s believable, it’s the opposite of justice, but then again the worst character in the novel was a judge his whole life. What justice might there be in a world like this?

I finally gathered all my courage to read this book! I have to say that the tiny print (probably the smallest I've ever seen!) and the fact that a friend mentioned this book was a pessimistic read didn't make it very appealing;) Well, it is very well-written and I enjoyed some of the reflections conveyed by the author but what the book lacks is a significant plot. I thought it was dull, hard going and I really had to push myself to finish it.