I picked up Audrey Niffenegger’s The Time Traveler’s Wife at a bookstore in Calicut because I was quickly finishing Lahiri’s short stories and needed something the pass my time in the humid, sultry days in Kerala. I was in the mood to read some Anita Nair, taking into consideration my location, but when I couldn’t find what I was looking for, I asked one of the enthusiastic attendants to hunt for The Time Traveler’s Wife. He soon came back to me with the only copy in the bookstore and I was pleased that my next few days were ensured in the companionship of a thick book. Any other time and place, I would’ve cringed at the sight of a lengthy book, but not this time.

The blurb on the book’s back flap was quite interesting, stating: “This is the extraordinary love story of Clare and Henry who met when Clare was six and Henry was thirty-six, and were married when Clare was twenty-two and Henry thirty.” Thanks to Henry’s capacity to time travel. Essentially I’m not a sucker for sci-fi, nor really for a romance; but a healthy combination of the two can seem to offer quite an appealing package. I was hooked on to the first one-third of the book simply because it was difficult to keep a track of time and chronology. However, once I broke the code of time, the story unfolded to be a simple one - and I don’t mean simple as a compliment. Clare and Henry’s love story is definitely extraordinary, in that Clare has known Henry since she was six and Henry only gets to know her when she is twenty-two, later traveling through time to get to know the younger Clare. (I can’t explain this well, I know, you’ll have to read the book to demystify my words.) But Clare and Henry only seem to love each other for the tale to move forward. I, as a sane romantic, need to know why someone loves someone. Niffenegger doesn’t convince me about their love, however she does over-do their sexual and romantic feelings for each other. I do have to hand her the fact that she handles the science-fiction bit well. I like the fact that Henry and Clare cannot change anything about the past or future, giving the story a touch of reality.

But overall, I’d only recommend the book to people who would suspend disbelief for the sake of a mushy romantic tale. At the core of Niffenegger’s book is a fantastic idea, but I don’t think she’s a talented enough writer to handle it. I do believe that lengthy books should only be undertaken by exceptionally gifted authors and this book could well have been a hundred pages shorter. Her characters’ interspersed discussions on politics and art come across as pompous. The repeated description and mention of Clare’s thick, long hair gets tiresome.

Last thoughts? Read it if you’re really bored and want to read something that won’t chew on your brains too much. But don’t expect a life-changing experience of a read.

I  was  surprised to see  Lahiri’s Unaccustomed Earth for 30% off sale when I went to the bookstore last week. I intended to buy the book for in-flight reading from Houston to Mumbai, knowing my impatience on the plane, and thinking that short stories would serve my attention span well.  I’ve not been a fan of Lahiri, and so spending a substantial amount on a new  book was unlike me; but there’s a different pleasure in reading a book that’s just out. I started reading the first story in the store itself and was intrigued, so I bought the book and finished the rest of the story at home. Part of the allure of the title story, for me, was the father-daughter relationship that Lahiri explores. She handles the story really well, etching out the characters in the story’s span, making sure that they don’t appear shallow.

Although the first story did please me, I was not going to transform into a Lahiri-fan just as yet. But the second story “Hell-Heaven” is good too - not too ambitious, yet giving away the agony of a married woman in love and giving the story a satisfactory climax.  The third story, “A Choice of Accommodations” was strictly okay - what I hoped would be a bridge between two great sections of the book. But “Only Goodness,” the fourth story fell flat. I am not sure what I disliked about it most - the Namesake reminiscent, shallow, aggravatingly-lost characters; or Lahiri’s need to make a profound story about a brother-sister relationship; or just the plain simplicity of it. The book builds itself up until this point, and the reader comes crashing down. Sigh! The last story of part one, “Nobody’s Business” is long and very forgettable.

I am not sure what to make of part two of the book. It is a section made of three interconnected stories, involving Hema and Kaushik. Again, these stories are a very pleasant read, but do drag in parts. What I liked about these stories was they gave me a chance to really get to know the characters - directly and indirectly - but still, the section wasn’t so long as to tire me of them. I was drawn to the central characters, which says a lot. However, I was disappointed with the trite and run-of-the-mill ending.

I would say, nevertheless, this is my most favorite work of Lahiri’s. Third one’s a charm, I suppose!

One of my class-mates passed around a flyer that said that Frank McCourt was going to be reading at Lamar University. Although the name excited me, I had no idea where Lamar University was, or didn’t have the courage to go there by myself. But another class-mate showed interest and I decided to tag along with her, to get the chance to see one of my favorite writers. So we hiked the 90 miles to Beaumont and Frank McCourt was worth every minute of the long drive.

McCourt wrote his seminal work Angela’s Ashes when he was 66. He won the Pulitzer Prize for it and suddenly shot to fame. Angela’s Ashes is a look into his life as a child in Ireland, and is one of those rare books that can make you smile, cry, think. I’ve reviewed the book here, so won’t say anything else, to avoid redundancy.

I’ve also read his later work Teacher Man, about his experience as a teacher in New York city.

McCourt made his audience laugh at almost every sentence and it was a joy to hear his Irish brawl that he has still maintained after so many years in America. He’s 78, but I first noticed his erect posture. He seemed to enjoy the talk itself, but was a little overwhelmed with the book signing that followed the lecture. I don’t blame him, because one-on-one interaction (with your “fans”) can be tiresome. But this interaction itself is something that I’m wary off. I’m one who thinks that writers must be kept at a distance from their works, because it is very possible that you might not like the person that has written your most favorite book. I go to a school where creative writing is upheld, and I study with the future writers, and I can tell you, you won’t like many of them if you were to know them. I guess one can’t put McCourt in the same category because he was also a teacher.

To cut a long story short, I went to see Frank McCourt read, and I had a fun evening. There.

As a  full-time student of literature, I am supposed to read several books a week. Most of the time, I read them out of sheer
compulsion. I peruse through them, taking in the gist and moving on. Books, like clothes, are changed ever so often, so my attention span lasts for around a week. That’s why, if a book grabs me by the collar, shakes me out of my readers-zombie-like-state, I can confidently say, it’s a book worthy of being reviewed.

The White Hotel is the kind of book I hunt for - multi-layered, non-linear and oh-so-complicated. Although every once in a while, I enjoy getting what a book gives, with no trouble; but mostly I love to be teased. It’s like a foreplay between the writer and the reader, before you get to the climax actual act of enjoying what the book has to offer.  The White Hotel plays with your senses, your imagination, your understanding of the world and yourself. Revolving around literary world’s favorite  theorist  - Sigmund Freud - this book will be a treat for anyone who finds psychoanalysis fascinating. This is a thinking person’s book, and it will twist your way of thinking. I love the way D. M. Thomas turns the narrative upside down and then throws it out in the open, leaving your to grab the pieces and put the puzzle together. He takes your by your reins and doesn’t let go till the end of the book. If only reading every book was such an adventure, students of literature would die happy!

Test your vocabulary at the  Free Rice website. For every correct answer you give, the site will donate 10 grains of rice to the hungry. I played for 5 minutes and donated 500 grains of rice.

The Snopes people say the site is legit.

When I heard that Doris Lessing won this year’s Nobel Prize for Literature, it did not immediately strike me that I’ve read one of her books and also reviewed it.

Wouldn’t mind reading more by her, when I have the time.

This blog has been unfairly ignored. Ever since the new semester started, with a load of three classes and two teaching classes, I have had no time for leisurely reading. I’ve been reading, of course, but forcibly. Not all readings are as bad as I might make it out to be - but I hate to read three books a week. Among many, these are a few books I read (and liked).

Hemingway’s Sun Also Rises

Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby

Taylor’s The Veiled Garvey

Smedley’s Daughter of Earth

Wright’s Native Son

Even if others might not think so, I am a self-declared Amitav Ghosh fan. Why? Because up until now, I had only read two of Ghosh’s works - The Shadow Lines and Calcutta Chromosome; and the latter isn’t even recognized as one of his best works. But I still loved him. Reading The Hungry Tide has boosted my own inferiority complex about author-ly love - because after all three is better than two.

There is a chance I may be biased to the book because of its author - but I do believe that THT is brilliant. Shadow Lines and Calcutta Chromosome were so different from each other, that I could not really pinpoint Ghosh’s writing style; but THT has given me a clearer idea. At the risk of sounding clichéd and pompous - I think Ghosh is the intelligent reader’s writer. If you’re looking for simple emotions, Ghosh might bore you a little. Rather, his work leaves you feeling just a little bit smarter and I always welcome that.

THT is not just about complex characters that you might identify with- it’s also about the tide country that I knew nothing about. It’s also about dolphins and tigers. Even a non-nature reader like me was sucked in - and that says a lot about the novel. Contrary to the myriad characters in his earlier works - THT has only four or five major characters who they’re deeply explored, and by the time you’re done reading with the novel, you know them really well. You want to know how their lives go on.

Last words? Go read it if you get a chance. If you go beyond chapter 10, it’s likely that you won’t stop.

PS: Thank you, Renny, for the suggestion

Although I’m not a fan of cartoons, I love watching animated movies. I’ve watched Monsters, Inc. over and over again, and it gives every time, like a good book. Everyone has their animated-movie-favorite - may it be Finding Nemo, Shrek, The Incredibles, Cars, so on. But I especially like watching a Disney/Pixar movie because of the animated shorts that they show before the movie. I didn’t notice the short when I saw The Incredibles which opened with Boundin’, which wasn’t quite engrossing. However, I did notice One Man Band shown before Cars. The short was simply fantastic. So I came home, and checked out more of Pixar’s shorts.

Although Pixar is miserly about sharing their shorts with the general public, YouTube uploaders have found devious ways to share the films. I would’ve loved to show you One Man Band, but it isn’t available. But the Academy Award winning Geri’s Game is:

Their latest offering is Lifted, which was shown before the new release Ratatouille. In my humble opinion the animated short was better than the full length feature. Let’s wait and see if someone uploads it on the Tube.

Sometime during my bachelors, we rounded-up Indian literature, within which we were given summaries of many of R.K. Narayan’s early English literature. Totally satiated with his stories (which sounded very bland and boring even in summaries), I stayed away from his literature. The only Narayan literature I was familiar with was Malgudi Days on the TV. When a friend gave me his My Dateless Diary - An American Journey, I decided to read it only because it was thin and readable in a few days. I read it quickly, but there wasn’t really anything drawing me to the book.

I am not a fan of travelogues, but I thought this book American-ness would interest me, being a newbie to the country myself. The datedness of his observations are definitely a drawback, because today’s Star TV generation knows more about America than any traveler possibly might. Narayan’s humor is dry and mildly entertaining, but not enough to save the boredom the book contains. The observations could have been more engrossing were they about his travels rather than about his own self in an alien country. I also felt as if Narayan too often revels in self-praise, which also gets tiresome after sometime.

There is very little this book had to offer, and I wouldn’t read it unless I was on a deserted island with nothing else to do.