small things
Couple of years ago, at a very unexciting phase in my life, My friend R, lent me her author-signed copy of 'The God of Small Things' and told me to handle it with care. I started reading the book, vaguely remembering my friend V's verdict that it was a very 'depressing' book. My expectations were set low.
When I finished the first chapter, I knew this book was not like The Others. It was a Special book and I could not know why, yet. So, I slowed down. I read the book slowly, deliberately, relishing the book word for word, page by page, not wanting to miss any small detail of this Special book. And in that one week, I was taken to the little backwater town of Ayemenem, alive with the characters in the book, their pain becoming my pain, their fears, mine. I did not realize the profound impact this book had on me until I finished it. Another week had passed and my mind was still in Ayemenem. With Estha, and Rahel. Ammu and Velutha.
If you objectively look at it, its a story of an elitist and slightly dysfunctional family in a small town in Kerala, set during a time when Communism was taking its roots; of how their lives changed drastically in the wake of a series of tragic events leading to the separation of the twins, who years later, meet each other and like strangers. Yes, it is a depressing book, if you look at it like that. But, when you read it deliberately, and acquaint yourself to the genius and unique literary tool the author uses, throughout the book, it takes you into the events and the core feelings of the book, like you were actually present in them, with very little Words. And it was the Words, that made the book Special. It was indeed the small things that mattered more than the great things, which are nothing but small things tumbling over each other like a line of dominos.
I personally felt that the book reminds of how we tend to hide our memories and their feelings in careless places. In places they are never accessible to be revisited. And the next time you taste that greasy 'pazhampori', the next time you catch a random whiff of a perfume or listen to that song you were used to years ago, it will bring with it flooding, the memories of that time, place, people and feelings, locked away in the senses of our careless hiding places.
It is also my belief that no two readers would experience 'The God of small things' in the same manner, and it depends on how differently they perceive it when they read it or each time they read it, or how carefully they read it.
So, the reason, I wrote about it again, was because I have recently come into possesssion of a novel the author has written after 20 years, since 'The God of small things'. And I hope, it will be a memorable experience. I will write about it, if it was. This is my gift to 29-year old me; turning in a couple of days. And also, I am in a very unexciting phase of my life right now.
When I finished the first chapter, I knew this book was not like The Others. It was a Special book and I could not know why, yet. So, I slowed down. I read the book slowly, deliberately, relishing the book word for word, page by page, not wanting to miss any small detail of this Special book. And in that one week, I was taken to the little backwater town of Ayemenem, alive with the characters in the book, their pain becoming my pain, their fears, mine. I did not realize the profound impact this book had on me until I finished it. Another week had passed and my mind was still in Ayemenem. With Estha, and Rahel. Ammu and Velutha.
If you objectively look at it, its a story of an elitist and slightly dysfunctional family in a small town in Kerala, set during a time when Communism was taking its roots; of how their lives changed drastically in the wake of a series of tragic events leading to the separation of the twins, who years later, meet each other and like strangers. Yes, it is a depressing book, if you look at it like that. But, when you read it deliberately, and acquaint yourself to the genius and unique literary tool the author uses, throughout the book, it takes you into the events and the core feelings of the book, like you were actually present in them, with very little Words. And it was the Words, that made the book Special. It was indeed the small things that mattered more than the great things, which are nothing but small things tumbling over each other like a line of dominos.
I personally felt that the book reminds of how we tend to hide our memories and their feelings in careless places. In places they are never accessible to be revisited. And the next time you taste that greasy 'pazhampori', the next time you catch a random whiff of a perfume or listen to that song you were used to years ago, it will bring with it flooding, the memories of that time, place, people and feelings, locked away in the senses of our careless hiding places.
It is also my belief that no two readers would experience 'The God of small things' in the same manner, and it depends on how differently they perceive it when they read it or each time they read it, or how carefully they read it.
So, the reason, I wrote about it again, was because I have recently come into possesssion of a novel the author has written after 20 years, since 'The God of small things'. And I hope, it will be a memorable experience. I will write about it, if it was. This is my gift to 29-year old me; turning in a couple of days. And also, I am in a very unexciting phase of my life right now.
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