That said, I’m not your usual bookish person that contributes to book sales shooting up the New York Bestseller lists, but if & when I do pick up a book, I end up devouring it. When I read, the novel plays out in my mind like a movie. Every character has a face, a set sense of style, a voice etc. Which, given that the context of her stories tends to circle around life patterns & places I’ve been exposed too, makes visualizing everything that much easier & that much more familiar. Not saying that I find myself in her characters (cause there a lot of whom I am actually thankful I didn’t turn out like), but it’s the accuracy in which she churns out the stories.
The characters that she puts in various situations would behave in the aggravating & realistic manner that they do. The type of manner which makes me want to shake them and reiterate their “Indian-ness”. And question their stupidity, their lack of judgment, their willingness to acclimatize without a second thought to a foreign (almost always Western) culture, and so easily shed off their roots*. Makes me wonder why once a decision is made, they look back and silently regret having gone ahead with their haughtiness. Why live life with secret regrets & burdens? So many questions, so much room for debate, and just so much depth for discussion.
Over the last couple of days I’ve spent the majority of my evening tea-times with my darling Mummy discussing the various roadblocks faced & decisions made by the characters in ‘Unaccustomed Earth’. Sure, they’re just a figment of imagination, but to me, the lives they lead are so tangible. Almost as if I’ve known these people my whole life. This book is a must-read. Go buy a copy. Read it. Hate a character. Love a character. Feel a sting of pain. Shed a tear. Awaken a lost nightmare. Smile in agreeance. Whatever it is, just read it. : )
و در انتها مینویسد که ساعتها با مادرش سر خاک غریب و شخصیتهاش حرف زده و میگوید از یک کاراکتر متنفر شو، عاشق دیگری شو، درد بکش اشکی بریز.
البته این آخرش کمی سانتیمانتال است.