From the moment I began the first chapter until I reached the final page, this book never ceased to fascinate me. The book itself is full of contradictions, both to itself and what is normally characterized as quality literature. The setting, to begin with, is exotic, the time period less so, given the recent return of violence in that region and among the Nepalise people, and the characters most familiar to anyone. The novel is constructed around fairly usual types of characters- the alcoholics, the hopeful youths, the wizened, aging adults, even the light, friendly characters. The difference is in Desai’s exploration of each character type, and no fluffy skimming over of any individual is permitted. The choppier, more scattered style can be a bit too ’’new age’’ for some of us more used to the classical prose style, but the change is refreshing and adds to the depth of characterization.
Not to give away the entire novel or anything, but the most unique quality of this novel is not realized until the very end. The novel ends with everyone being worse off than they were in the beginning. Ideals have been lost irrevocably, youth has beeen compromised, and all that was gained has been lost, coupled with the additional loss of dignity. By the ending, I promise that the dismal nature of the title will strike a chord and complete the meaning of the book. Depressing, yes, but also a frighteningly compelling idea.
The only further recommendation I have to anyone even remotely interested in picking this novel up: please, read it in a place devoid of distraction and be willing to dedicate some attention to it. I advise this merely because a) the prose is stock-piled with those ’’eternal truths’’ and pieces of worthy wisdom for all living beings and b) once you get into it, there is no way you will willingly put it down. I finished it in a matter of days, while keeping a life, and was annoyed at any distraction that made me have to re-read something.