Monthly Archives: January 2012

A part of the furniture

A little unassuming volume, “A part of the furniture” proved to be an entertaining read.

Touted to be a romance, it proved to be much more than just that, at least to me.

The story speaks of Juno Marlowe, a young British girl. There were instances when I felt things were getting too unrealistic, when it struck me that it was set in wartime, and that Juno is just seventeen. There is something about certain periods when people’s actions aren’t what they would be during normal times. War is one such.

There is also a credible portrayal of teenage confusion between rebellion and compliance. Of the struggle between innocence and knowledge.

The end was a bit M&B-ish, but with a slight twist, leaving me with a feeling of justice meted out and affairs sorted.

In short, worth reading on a lazy afternoon

 

The Septembers of Shiraz – a surprise

“The Septembers of Shiraz” is a novel about the experiences of the various members of a Jewish family in Iran at the time of a revolution.  Given the setup, there are many things that can make an author lose track; which is why I was pleasantly surprised and happy at the way in which the story was narrated so beautifully.

Gems of wisdom here and there. Now and then a really pertinent and insightful question that makes you want to sit down and ponder upon for a while. At the same time, the story moves along at a good pace, making you feel that you just have to continue reading. Beautiful descriptions.

In short, a really worthwhile read… One book I’d recommend for sure.

Happy reading…

The Blue Notebook – a disappointment

I recently managed to get hold of  “The Blue Notebook” by James A.Levine. Maybe the fact that I’d had great expectations from it, given all the rave reviews I’d been reading,  or because I’d been trying to lay my hands on it for a very long time, but whatever the reason, the book was a big letdown for me.

As you can infer from the title, it is about a young prostitute. The writing seemed to me a tad dry. Again, it might have been because of the high expectations I had. At the end of the novel, I did not feel anything. Forget moved, the book failed to evoke anything remotely like it in me. There were parts which could have been really moving, but somehow, the overall effect tended to diminish even those few instances.

I was more affected by the descriptions in a chapter of Suketu Mehta’s “Maximum City”, than by this entire novel.

So, sorry to say this, but this was one big disappointment…