Monday, August 31, 2009
I just read Aravind Adiga's "White Tiger" which won last year's Booker. An enjoyable enough debut, but a perplexing prizewinner. It seems a little ridiculous reviewing the Booker winner a year late, particularly when I didn't think it was a particularly memorable novel. I did enjoy it, but felt it had too many designs on the reader, which led to a certain predictability setting in after the first few (very good) chapters. Basically, when the character leaves the rural Indian "Darkness" for Delhi, it loses its strangeness, and becomes a little laboured; very much a journalistic novel that shows "the other side of India", yet I'm not sure how much most of us have taken in of India's "economic miracle" as it is. Everyone I know who has visited has always come back talking at length about the immense poverty. I finished it yesterday and its already slipping from memory somewhat. After reading three first person debuts with unreliable narrators, in the last couple of weeks, I think my next read needs to bring back the omniscient author. Third person, please.
Posted by Adrian Slatcher at 12:42 PM