Where to begin? This is one long, hard slog of a book - rambling, incredibly ambitious, completely surreal, self-consciously intellectual, alternatively funny and dull (often in the same chapter); chock-full of (literally) fantastic, memorable characters and incidents, packed with wonderful turns of phrase and some lovely metaphors ("the chutnification of...
more Where to begin? This is one long, hard slog of a book - rambling, incredibly ambitious, completely surreal, self-consciously intellectual, alternatively funny and dull (often in the same chapter); chock-full of (literally) fantastic, memorable characters and incidents, packed with wonderful turns of phrase and some lovely metaphors ("the chutnification of history, the pickling of time"). But though its undoubtedly magical and clearly deserving of its cultural status, detailing as it does the trials and tribulations of three generations of an Indian family while simultaneously delineating the history of India, Pakistan AND Bangladesh since Indian independence in 1947 and attempting to show how the protagonist's fate is inexorably interlinked with the subcontinent's events, its long-winded prose style, irritating foreshadowing and complete over-use of magical realist elements nearly did me in by the time I reached the 600th page. Notice how long and dense my last sentence was. That's what the book's like. So though I'm glad I've read this novel, I don't think I'll read another Rushdie any time soon. I'm exhausted.
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