Who are we kidding? Most writing is cringe-worthy at some level. It is verbal diarrhea. Sometimes I want words to have lives of their own. They should say "fuck you floozie, I am my own being. You wrote me but that doesn't give you any ownership over me" and strut away. Then we would think twice before penning... Continue Reading →
The last line of the book deals with diarrhea. Yes. The Makioka Sisters is a book of non negligible size. It presents and does not judge. It is sweeping in its presentation. Elegiac is the word. Would it not be more apt to describe it as polished? The last line deals with dysentery. A gentle bow,... Continue Reading →
The world war is a permanent wedge in history. An indelible scar that should remind us all of human greed, paranoia, idealism and ideology. Whipping up frenzy in a closed society today seems easy and inevitable. Reading Shigeru Mizuki's detailed retelling of the war is harrowing. How individual incidents and choices of families, that are rationalized under mostly well intentioned... Continue Reading →
Reading Shusaku Endo's Scandal is a little like being the priest in a confession box. While the pious christian is spilling out his guilt and burning with doubt and shame, you sit bored in the other half of the confessional chamber stifling a yawn. The analogy is even more apt when you realize Endo is a devout... Continue Reading →
The Key and Diary of a Mad Old Man employ diary entries to chronicle the writers' pursuit of sensuality. They offer ample lascivious thrills that one would not be hard pressed not to look beyond the fantastic struggles of the characters and the psychological games that sex involves. But these are classics. They are penned by... Continue Reading →
1/3 rd Murakami There is an Indian author named Chetan Bhagat. A newly popular writer with simplistic stereotypical stories that do not warrant much attention other than to calibrate maturity levels of readers. Not exactly the deepest fellow doing the rounds in Indian Literature, if you catch my drift. Haruki Murakami reminds me of Chetan Bhagat. Emo kids, mysterious... Continue Reading →
"As Japan grows increasingly cosmopolitan, Japanese and foreigners are eagerly mingling with one another; all sorts of new doctrines and philosophies are being introduced; and both men and women are adopting up-to-date Western fashions. No doubt, the times being what they are, the sort of marital relationship that we've had, unheard of until now, will... Continue Reading →
As I navigate through this life ...
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A body of paradoxes.
Groovy Book Reviews and Literary Insights
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