After being exposed to all the hype for some time, I fell to the trap and bought this book. It left me sick at the end with a bad taste in the mouth.
First of all, I found Martel’s writing style laborious. I struggled to keep the pages turning. His writing about India is what you would expect from the eye lense of a typical backpacker/hippie who has travelled in India for a few weeks. I hate this superficial arrogance which boasts of having found the essence of India. Even Indians after living a life time in India don’t make such tall statements.
The basic story, that of a boy and a tiger surviving together on a life boat after their ship sinks is highly unbelievable to start with. Now I know this is fiction and all make believe. But Martel simply doesn’t cut it. I simply can not imagine an Indian family naming their son as Piscine Molitor Patel! Yes that’s the name of the boy apparently named so after some stupid swimming pool in Paris! Give me a break!
I simply can not understand why this book got the Booker prize. Anyway after reading another book that got the same prize (God of small things), I suspect to win this prize your book has to have some disgusting things oozing with the ’’Bibhatsa rasa’’. For example the hints to cannibalism in this book.
Recommendation: Skip it!
PS: I am going to try and find out if I can return this book to the bookstore.