I picked this book up coz I saw her name in the bookstore a lot number of times and that too with lot of titles to her name and wondered what she was all about. This time I wanted to know for myself.
Sometimes trying new authors just based on their name instead of the content of the book pays off, that’s how I found Arthur Hailey and Frederick Forsyth, but sometimes its plain tiring. This feeling I already experienced with Shobha De. This is the second time in a row I vowed that I’ll never pick this author’s novel again.
After completing the book, I thought it was worse than Harold Robbins, but atleast I enjoyed some of the dialogues or his writing style. I liked his Carpetbaggers a lot. But now when I think back, she’s worse, its raw just for being raw. In fact the whole story doesnt make sense, to put it vaguely, it doesnt have stuff, stuff in it to keep you engrossed.
The characters exist just for making up the story, and it prolongs unnecessarily. There are no anecdotes worth mentioning or laughing. I think the story was only present to support the profanity rather than the other way round.
I strongly don’t recommend this book for anyone. At the end all that will be gained is eye strain than enjoyment or entertainment.