May be I am not the kind of reader the author was expecting. I expected more story, more drama, more life. But the author seemed to be interested only in the scorching heat of Calcutta and few residents of that 15 year old apartment, its lifts, Dr Sen, Mrs Gupta, etc. To me the book seemed completely lifeless.
I never comment on a book without reading it completely. That is the only reason that helped me to finish this book. The author has explained every minute detail with great care, but I do not find any requirement for a big book for all those writings.
May be its the style of writing a 'very good' book. May be I am not good enough to understand or enjoy such a work. Because I had found less enjoyment in many other 'Booker Prize' winning works too. They just give you too many pages to explanation of very trivial details. I had read three 'Booker Prize' winning Indian author books viz. God of Small Things by Arundhathi Roy, The White Tiger by Aravind Adiga and Inheritance of Loss by Kiran Desai. (I havent completed the last mentioned book yet, trying hard to be able to read it to the end). All my friends who used to take the books from me once I had finished them, refused to touch those mentioned books or started scolding me for giving them such books!
I appreciate the fact that the author is able to feel the intricate enjoyment in all those trivial things, yet a book full of such nonsense is no way near literature according to me. :(
