The Inheritance of Loss

Before I go into more detail, I will first summarize this book in two words: Eloquent and Depressing. With an emphasis on depressing.

Okay, now for my more detailed thoughts on this book, of which I have many. So get ready.

It wasn't exactly a page turner, in fact there were definitely times when I felt like I was slogging through it. I talked to someone at work today who said they tried and just couldn't quite finish it and she knew of someone else who had the same problem. I think part of this is because there are so many references to the seemingly trillions of regions and countries, former countries, and former regions in the surrounding areas. And it seemed like each region had like 3 different names for its people and then like 3 new names based on their religion and it all just got very confusing and served to highlight my complete ignorance of that area of the world.

Also, without spoiling it, I'll just say that I did not like the ending. I hate it when the ending of a book sucks! It's such a disappointment.

All of that said, the virtues of the book aren't really in the characters or even the plot specifics. The beauty of the book is in its prose and the way it tells the story of India (and Indians). It almost seemed like the author viewed the characters not as individuals with their own stories to tell, but rather as tools to tell the bigger story of India, colonialism, and really, the rest of the world. The characters felt more representative than specific.

I thought the language was really beautiful. So much so that I actually had to borrow Jeff's nerdy highlighter and use it a few times. There were a few passages that were so eloquent that I wanted to go back and reread them. Here is just part of a paragraph where a main character witnesses a riot in the 1980's:
"How can the ordinary be changed? Were these men entirely committed to the importance of the procession or was there a disconnected quality to what they did? Were they taking their cues from old protest stories or from the hope of telling a new story? Did their hearts rise and fall to something true? Once they shouted, marched, was the feeling authentic? Did they see themselves from a perspective beyond this moment, these unleashed Bruce Lee fans in their American T-shirts made-in-China-coming-in-via-Kathmandu?"

And another about a young Indian guy named Biju trying to make it in New York (and failing):
"Biju walked back to the Ghandi Cafe, thinking he was emptying out. Year by year, his life wasn't amounting to anything at all: in a space that should have included family, friends, he was the only one displacing the air. And yet, another part of him had expanded: his self-consciousness, his self-pity -- oh the tediousness of it. Clumsy in America, a giant-sized midget, a bigfat-sized helping of small... Shouldn't he return to a life where he might slice his own importance, to where he might relinquish this overrated control over his own destiny and perhaps be subtracted from its determination altogether? He might even experience that greatest luxury of not noticing himself at all."

So there you have it. I hated it and I loved it.

I started The Pillars of the Earth tonight right after finishing The Inheritance of Loss. I leave for Alaska tomorrow night so I probably won't be posting until Wednesday of next week, at which time I will hopefully have a "review" ready for The Pillars of the Earth.

Bookends

I finished Bookends by Jane Green last night. I'm not going to lie, I really liked this book. In my opinion, it is by far her best book, at least of the ones that I've read so far.

It had all the solid qualities of a good chick lit book - main character in her early 30s, working single professional, dating and romance, and of course the witty, gay best friend. Better yet though, there was more to it than just the basic formula. The characters all seemed like actual people and the story was well written. I genuinely liked (and related to) the main character and her relationships with her friends. It also touches on many of the things that we go through in our late twenties/early thirties - career changes, having kids, realizing it's been 10 years since college, reuniting with old friends and the guilt surrounding having lost touch with them in the first place. I'm not sure the book warrants a more in depth analysis than this, but I would definitely recommend it if you're looking for a break from some more serious reading.

On a side note, I think I really am on to something with the whole gay best friend in chick-lit thing. I should probably go back to grad school and write my thesis on "The Role of the Queeny Best Friend in Modern Fiction Targeted at Females ages 25-35". Do we all have an inner fag hag dying to come out? These are the types of serious questions I will address in my thesis.

So I plan to start The Inheritance of Loss by Kiran Desai during lunch today. The back of the book describes it like this:
In a crumbling, isolated house at the foot of Mount Kanchenjunga in the Himalayas lives an embittered judge who wants only to retire in peace, when his orphaned granddaughter, Sai, arrives on his doorstep. The judge's cook watches over her distractedly, for his thoughts are often on his son, Biju, who is hopscotching from one gritty New York restaurant to another. Kiran Desai's brilliant novel, published to huge acclaim, is a story of joy and despair. Her characters face numerous choices that majestically illuminate the consequences of colonialism as it collides with the modern world.

Sounds good, right? I'll let you know what I think. In the meantime, I think I may take Amy up on her comment suggestion and buy Into the Wild or Thunderstruck (or both!) for my upcoming Alaska trip.