Lopping poppies: Booker prize winner 'The Inheritance of Loss'
December 17th 2006 08:33
In a shameful act of betrayal of the art of reading and readers everywhere, I found myself skimreading sections of the book, which is obviously well-written but a bit dull and flabby about the middle, much like people who love cheese.
By the 200-page, three-quarter mark, there was no going back. Excitement grew (in me, not in the plot) at the prospect of writing a negative book review. Like a professional reviewer, I could tear it apart, have the undeniable pleasure of lopping a tall poppy, goodness. For this reason only, I set aside a few hours over the weekend to 'read it out', to go back to the half-alive characters and the godforsaken Himalayan climate and the realism so mundane peppered with the too-wise (for the author is young) insights into the shame and sadness of the disposessed. Ho hum, make a cup of tea, get on with it.
Finally, at chapter THIRTY EIGHT (page 241 in the American edition I read) it gets interesting; in fact, it suddenly becomes brilliant. I am so glad that I trusted in the almighty Booker and stuck with it; wish I hadn't skimmed through the all-important build-up. I recommend this book wholeheartedly on the condition that it is not read piecemeal on public transport etc.
Alas, no nasty book review.
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