Rakhi Jayashankar's Blog, page 37
March 14, 2019
The Sun Shines Down by Sankha Ghosh- Review
Book Name - The Sun Shines Down Author - Sankha Ghosh Publisher - Hawakal PublishersBuy books from Amazon
Review
Political thrillers are the latest trend in India literature. The increased demand of political thrillers as well as the increased attempt by the authors could be the result of the boom in political awareness among the youth. One more feather to the political thriller wing is Sun Shines Down.
The book takes off with the serial murders of Civil Service Aspirants, which is a cover up for a scam. Meanwhile readers get to see Sreya Basu being the Chief Ministerial candidate and how they assort to PR services to build an image. A parallel tale of Faiz whose brother is murdered in the Civil Service scam develops. These to parallel plots leads the book.
Author has let the worms out of the political horse trade and the other decaying rotten side of the system. It is not a hidden fact that advertisement agencies are used in image building by all the political parties. The new surge of taglines and other ads are witness to the same. The characters have a lot of possibilities which could have been made use of. Their craft is good yet it leaves space for more development. The second innings of the book starts in Balochistan. Author's attempt in connecting the geo-political scenario there is commendable. Nonetheless the shift from India to Balochistan is sharp edged and hence creates a confusion initially. Further it becomes clear that it was a deliberate attempt to create suspense but needed a rework on that note.
Verdict
A political thriller for light read lovers
Scenario: 4 /5Narration : 4/5Character : 3/5Entertainment Quotient: 3.5/5
This review is in return of a free book from the author
March 4, 2019
Seven Sixes are Forty Three by Kiran Nagarkar- Review
Book Name - Seven Sixes are Forty Three Author - Kiran Nagarkar Publisher - HarperPerennialBuy books from Amazon
Review
To portray the deepest human emotions is the toughest job for a writer. Kiran Nagarkar proved to be the master of the art through the book 7643.
The plot unravels with a suicide. The first chapter sets a deep impact of a mystery thriller but later transforms for a literary fiction. The story of Kushank Purandare will stay with the readers forever. The pain of reality is sure to mark the name of the author in golden letters in the history of literature.
The book and the characters are above time and demographics. The relationships and how they develop is relatable in any era. The volatile narration hooks the readers to the book. It is brutally honest and painfully soothing. The characterization is the highlight of the book. Each character is crafted such that the authenticity is preserved throughout.
The plot is unconventional and classic. It takes us through differences incidents and experiences in the life of Kushank. How he deals with different situations differently makes the book a quintessential literary fiction and the detail analysis of the book makes it more or less a philosophical fiction.
The book is definitely not an easy read. One should take time to actually sit down and read the book.
Verdict
Scenario: 4.5 /5Narration : 4.5 /5Character : 4.5/5Entertainment Quotient: 4.5/5
This review is in return of a free book from the publisher
February 21, 2019
BOOK BLITZ- JUSTICE GONE BY N. LOMBARDI JR
About the Book:
When a homeless war veteran is beaten to death by the police, stormy protests ensue, engulfing a small New Jersey town. Soon after, three cops are gunned down. A multi-state manhunt is underway for a cop killer on the loose. And Dr. Tessa Thorpe, a veteran's counselor, is caught up in the chase. Donald Darfield, an African-American Iraqi war vet, war-time buddy of the beaten man, and one of Tessa's patients, is holed up in a mountain cabin. Tessa, acting on instinct, sets off to find him, but the swarm of law enforcement officers get there first, leading to Darfield's dramatic capture. Now, the only people separating him from the lethal needle of state justice are Tessa and ageing blind lawyer, Nathaniel Bodine. Can they untangle the web tightening around Darfield in time, when the press and the justice system are baying for revenge? Justice Gone is the first in a series of psychological thrillers involving Dr Tessa Thorpe, wrapped in the divisive issues of modern American society including police brutality and disenfranchised returning war veterans.
Book Links:
Goodreads * Amazon
Read an Excerpt:
Chapter 5
“I don’t need to tell you how imperative it is to make contact with Donald.”
Tessa was behind her desk, addressing the three people in front of her: Ed with his long sad face; Casey, looking like a brow-beaten youth; and Penny, her angular features and square glasses contradicting her elfish pixie hair.
Tessa’s eyes were glistening. That was how Casey knew she was emotionally distressed. She was a very emotional woman, one of the first things about her that he had grasped from the start, perhaps too emotional. But in his book, that was more of a positive attribute of her character, rather than a flaw.
He knew as well as she did that Donald Darfield was one of the worse damaged of the vets, and now, having just reached the critical point where he was on the verge of confronting his demons, was extremely fragile.
Tessa leaned forward. “We’ve each tried on our cell phones, multiple times, but he won’t answer, so we’ll need the help of others…the ones in his group, those closest to him. We need to know where he would go. Since he basically lives here in our shelter, I wouldn’t waste time in homeless shelters. It’s been twenty-four hours now, and he may have gone out of town. We need to know where.”
“Yes, we’ll get on it,” Casey assured her.
“As for me, I need to see Jay’s father. His landline’s been disconnected. Anyone know the cell phone number…did Jay leave it with us?”
The despondent shaking of heads and shoulder shrugs gave the answer. Abruptly, Penny popped her head up. “Oh wait. How about his aunt?”
“Marshal’s sister? Good. Get it to me.”
Penny jumped up and exited.
“I’m taking a taxi as soon as we’re through here, which I think is right now.”
When Ed and Casey departed, Tessa called one of New York’s many private taxi services. A cab picked her up within fifteen minutes and she was on her way, across the George Washington Bridge and into New Jersey. When they got off the turnpike, Tessa gave meticulous directions to the home of Colonel Marshal Felson, Retired.
There were several vans and a small crowd of people outside the chain link fence enclosing the house. Now was the time for Tessa to try the number Penny gave her, counting on the possibility that Aunt Mae was in the house shielding her brother from the press.
A woman, by the gravelly nature of her voice an elderly woman, picked up the phone. “Hello?”
“Hi, is this Aunt Mae?” Tessa did not give her time to reply. “This is Dr. Thorpe; I was Jay’s counselor, and I need to speak to the Colonel. If you’re in the house, come to the gate and let me in.”
A brief silence. Apparently she was cupping the phone while conferring with Jay’s father. “Okay, I’m coming to let you in.”
When Aunt Mae, capped with a helmet of gray hair and dressed in a black frock with a discordant flower print, came out to let her in, the predictable surging of reporters commenced and was only quelled after Tessa promised them a comment on her way out. In the company of the elderly woman, she entered the two-story colonial and came face to face with Marshal Felson, standing in the sitting room with a drink of clear liquid in his hand. At six feet and three inches, broad at the shoulders, he imparted a formidable presence despite his weathered face. Silver hair chopped into the nubs of a buzz cut, bushy gray eyebrows, piercing light-blue eyes, and a prominently square jaw demanded accountability, despite his general appearance of an aged vet.
“Hello, Dr. Thorpe. Would you like a drink?"
"Yes, thank you. I’ll have whatever you’re having.”
The Colonel retreated to the kitchen in the back. His long- sleeved sky-blue shirt and pressed khakis displayed a subtle formality suggesting a relaxed respectability.
Aunt Mae, clasping her hands in front of her, fidgeted fretfully. “Sit down, dear,” she told Tessa, politeness always an expedient way to dispel the awkwardness.
Tessa took a seat on the damask sofa just as Felson arrived with her drink. She took a sip, surprised at the sweetness.
He looked at her with a sardonic smile. “Seven-Up. The hard stuff. None of that diet shit in this house.” His decorous mannerisms and strained joviality struggled to conceal the pent- up emotional turmoil brewing inside him.
She accepted the glass, saying, “Doesn’t surprise me. Very cool-headed of you to avoid alcohol. I can also sense you’re not grieving yet.”
“Not yet. You know, Betsy’s death took me harder. I mean with Jay going off to war, well…I know the risks of war. But I never expected this.” He sat down in the matching chair opposite her, looking up at the ceiling. “I’m still trying to sort this out.”
Tessa remained quiet, ready to listen.
“But you’re a clever gal, tell me what I’m feeling?"
"Rage.”
“Damn right!” He leaned forward from the depths of his armchair. “You know where I went today?” Felson did not wait for any reply. “I went to identify my son’s body. And the irony of it was…I really couldn’t…identify him. His face was so swollen, his eyes were just slits…his nose looked like a goddamned mushroom…his lips a bloody puffed up mess.” He took a gulp from his glass, then smacked his lips. “So…come to console me, Doctor?”
Tessa leaned forward, putting her glass on the coffee table. “Look, Colonel, I know we don’t see eye-to-eye on these matters—”
“No indeed! Your way is not my way. You just don’t understand. Marines are not ordinary people; they’re special. Going off to war, seeing terrible things, doing terrible things, that’s the goddamned job. If you can’t take it, join the goddamned Air Force, don’t become a Marine!” He took another slurp from his glass. “Going to see a doctor because you got bad memories is a sign of weakness, plain and simple.”
“And of course, you never have? Seen a doctor, I mean.”
“Damn right! So I guess your visit really isn’t necessary, is it?”
Tessa ignored his snotty rhetorical question. “Colonel, have you any idea at all of the whereabouts of Donny Darfield? He’s missing.”
“Donny, Jay’s friend, the colored boy?”
“African-American. Man.”
“Yes, of course…guess I’m old-fashioned. No, haven’t heard from him. Is that the only reason you came here?”
“No. What I really came to see you about is unity. We should bury the hatchet and work together.”
“Work together for what purpose? You know, I had to disconnect my phone…never mind the press…the Homeless Coalition, the VFW, Vietnam Veterans against the War, Iraqi Veterans Against the War, Veterans for Peace, you name it…my son is dead and everyone sees this as a political opportunity. So, tell me, what do you, Dr. Tessa Thorpe, want us to work together on, huh, what, promotion of your clinic?”
“No.” She paused, being purposely dramatic. “Justice.”
He looked at her with his stone-blue eyes, eventually slackening enough to digest her words. He put down the 7-Up he had been holding in his hand for fifteen minutes. “Ah, now we’re talking. So, what kind of justice do you expect my son to get?”
“None at all. If we sit idle.”
He leaned forward and whispered contemptuously. “You know they’re going to try and get out of this?”
Tessa, despite the gravity of the topic, leaned over the coffee table to meet his face and smiled maliciously. “Damn right,” she told him, parroting the colonel’s favorite response. “But we’re not going to let them.”
Felson grinned back. “It’s a deal. Mae’s got your number on her cell phone. I’ll call you. As for now, I’m going to take a valium, my favorite nighttime snack these days, and then hit the sack. I’ll deal with life tomorrow.”
On her way to the taxi, Tessa gave out her promised comment to the journalists, which was that she and Marshal Felson would await the town of Bruntfield’s response before making any comment.
About the Author:
N. Lombardi Jr, the N for Nicholas, has spent over half his life in Africa, Asia, and the Middle East, working as a groundwater geologist. Nick can speak five languages: Swahili, Thai, Lao, Chinese, and Khmer (Cambodian).
In 1997, while visiting Lao People's Democratic Republic, he witnessed the remnants of a secret war that had been waged for nine years, among which were children wounded from leftover cluster bombs. Driven by what he saw, he worked on The Plain of Jars for the next eight years.
Nick maintains a website with content that spans most aspects of the novel: The Secret War, Laotian culture, Buddhism etc.
His second novel, Journey Towards a Falling Sun, is set in the wild frontier of northern Kenya.
His latest novel, Justice Gone was inspired by the fatal beating of a homeless man by police.
Nick now lives in Phnom Penh, Cambodia
Follow the Author:
Website * Goodreads * Amazon
');
When a homeless war veteran is beaten to death by the police, stormy protests ensue, engulfing a small New Jersey town. Soon after, three cops are gunned down. A multi-state manhunt is underway for a cop killer on the loose. And Dr. Tessa Thorpe, a veteran's counselor, is caught up in the chase. Donald Darfield, an African-American Iraqi war vet, war-time buddy of the beaten man, and one of Tessa's patients, is holed up in a mountain cabin. Tessa, acting on instinct, sets off to find him, but the swarm of law enforcement officers get there first, leading to Darfield's dramatic capture. Now, the only people separating him from the lethal needle of state justice are Tessa and ageing blind lawyer, Nathaniel Bodine. Can they untangle the web tightening around Darfield in time, when the press and the justice system are baying for revenge? Justice Gone is the first in a series of psychological thrillers involving Dr Tessa Thorpe, wrapped in the divisive issues of modern American society including police brutality and disenfranchised returning war veterans.Book Links:
Goodreads * Amazon
Read an Excerpt:
Chapter 5
“I don’t need to tell you how imperative it is to make contact with Donald.”
Tessa was behind her desk, addressing the three people in front of her: Ed with his long sad face; Casey, looking like a brow-beaten youth; and Penny, her angular features and square glasses contradicting her elfish pixie hair.
Tessa’s eyes were glistening. That was how Casey knew she was emotionally distressed. She was a very emotional woman, one of the first things about her that he had grasped from the start, perhaps too emotional. But in his book, that was more of a positive attribute of her character, rather than a flaw.
He knew as well as she did that Donald Darfield was one of the worse damaged of the vets, and now, having just reached the critical point where he was on the verge of confronting his demons, was extremely fragile.
Tessa leaned forward. “We’ve each tried on our cell phones, multiple times, but he won’t answer, so we’ll need the help of others…the ones in his group, those closest to him. We need to know where he would go. Since he basically lives here in our shelter, I wouldn’t waste time in homeless shelters. It’s been twenty-four hours now, and he may have gone out of town. We need to know where.”
“Yes, we’ll get on it,” Casey assured her.
“As for me, I need to see Jay’s father. His landline’s been disconnected. Anyone know the cell phone number…did Jay leave it with us?”
The despondent shaking of heads and shoulder shrugs gave the answer. Abruptly, Penny popped her head up. “Oh wait. How about his aunt?”
“Marshal’s sister? Good. Get it to me.”
Penny jumped up and exited.
“I’m taking a taxi as soon as we’re through here, which I think is right now.”
When Ed and Casey departed, Tessa called one of New York’s many private taxi services. A cab picked her up within fifteen minutes and she was on her way, across the George Washington Bridge and into New Jersey. When they got off the turnpike, Tessa gave meticulous directions to the home of Colonel Marshal Felson, Retired.
There were several vans and a small crowd of people outside the chain link fence enclosing the house. Now was the time for Tessa to try the number Penny gave her, counting on the possibility that Aunt Mae was in the house shielding her brother from the press.
A woman, by the gravelly nature of her voice an elderly woman, picked up the phone. “Hello?”
“Hi, is this Aunt Mae?” Tessa did not give her time to reply. “This is Dr. Thorpe; I was Jay’s counselor, and I need to speak to the Colonel. If you’re in the house, come to the gate and let me in.”
A brief silence. Apparently she was cupping the phone while conferring with Jay’s father. “Okay, I’m coming to let you in.”
When Aunt Mae, capped with a helmet of gray hair and dressed in a black frock with a discordant flower print, came out to let her in, the predictable surging of reporters commenced and was only quelled after Tessa promised them a comment on her way out. In the company of the elderly woman, she entered the two-story colonial and came face to face with Marshal Felson, standing in the sitting room with a drink of clear liquid in his hand. At six feet and three inches, broad at the shoulders, he imparted a formidable presence despite his weathered face. Silver hair chopped into the nubs of a buzz cut, bushy gray eyebrows, piercing light-blue eyes, and a prominently square jaw demanded accountability, despite his general appearance of an aged vet.
“Hello, Dr. Thorpe. Would you like a drink?"
"Yes, thank you. I’ll have whatever you’re having.”
The Colonel retreated to the kitchen in the back. His long- sleeved sky-blue shirt and pressed khakis displayed a subtle formality suggesting a relaxed respectability.
Aunt Mae, clasping her hands in front of her, fidgeted fretfully. “Sit down, dear,” she told Tessa, politeness always an expedient way to dispel the awkwardness.
Tessa took a seat on the damask sofa just as Felson arrived with her drink. She took a sip, surprised at the sweetness.
He looked at her with a sardonic smile. “Seven-Up. The hard stuff. None of that diet shit in this house.” His decorous mannerisms and strained joviality struggled to conceal the pent- up emotional turmoil brewing inside him.
She accepted the glass, saying, “Doesn’t surprise me. Very cool-headed of you to avoid alcohol. I can also sense you’re not grieving yet.”
“Not yet. You know, Betsy’s death took me harder. I mean with Jay going off to war, well…I know the risks of war. But I never expected this.” He sat down in the matching chair opposite her, looking up at the ceiling. “I’m still trying to sort this out.”
Tessa remained quiet, ready to listen.
“But you’re a clever gal, tell me what I’m feeling?"
"Rage.”
“Damn right!” He leaned forward from the depths of his armchair. “You know where I went today?” Felson did not wait for any reply. “I went to identify my son’s body. And the irony of it was…I really couldn’t…identify him. His face was so swollen, his eyes were just slits…his nose looked like a goddamned mushroom…his lips a bloody puffed up mess.” He took a gulp from his glass, then smacked his lips. “So…come to console me, Doctor?”
Tessa leaned forward, putting her glass on the coffee table. “Look, Colonel, I know we don’t see eye-to-eye on these matters—”
“No indeed! Your way is not my way. You just don’t understand. Marines are not ordinary people; they’re special. Going off to war, seeing terrible things, doing terrible things, that’s the goddamned job. If you can’t take it, join the goddamned Air Force, don’t become a Marine!” He took another slurp from his glass. “Going to see a doctor because you got bad memories is a sign of weakness, plain and simple.”
“And of course, you never have? Seen a doctor, I mean.”
“Damn right! So I guess your visit really isn’t necessary, is it?”
Tessa ignored his snotty rhetorical question. “Colonel, have you any idea at all of the whereabouts of Donny Darfield? He’s missing.”
“Donny, Jay’s friend, the colored boy?”
“African-American. Man.”
“Yes, of course…guess I’m old-fashioned. No, haven’t heard from him. Is that the only reason you came here?”
“No. What I really came to see you about is unity. We should bury the hatchet and work together.”
“Work together for what purpose? You know, I had to disconnect my phone…never mind the press…the Homeless Coalition, the VFW, Vietnam Veterans against the War, Iraqi Veterans Against the War, Veterans for Peace, you name it…my son is dead and everyone sees this as a political opportunity. So, tell me, what do you, Dr. Tessa Thorpe, want us to work together on, huh, what, promotion of your clinic?”
“No.” She paused, being purposely dramatic. “Justice.”
He looked at her with his stone-blue eyes, eventually slackening enough to digest her words. He put down the 7-Up he had been holding in his hand for fifteen minutes. “Ah, now we’re talking. So, what kind of justice do you expect my son to get?”
“None at all. If we sit idle.”
He leaned forward and whispered contemptuously. “You know they’re going to try and get out of this?”
Tessa, despite the gravity of the topic, leaned over the coffee table to meet his face and smiled maliciously. “Damn right,” she told him, parroting the colonel’s favorite response. “But we’re not going to let them.”
Felson grinned back. “It’s a deal. Mae’s got your number on her cell phone. I’ll call you. As for now, I’m going to take a valium, my favorite nighttime snack these days, and then hit the sack. I’ll deal with life tomorrow.”
On her way to the taxi, Tessa gave out her promised comment to the journalists, which was that she and Marshal Felson would await the town of Bruntfield’s response before making any comment.
About the Author:
N. Lombardi Jr, the N for Nicholas, has spent over half his life in Africa, Asia, and the Middle East, working as a groundwater geologist. Nick can speak five languages: Swahili, Thai, Lao, Chinese, and Khmer (Cambodian).In 1997, while visiting Lao People's Democratic Republic, he witnessed the remnants of a secret war that had been waged for nine years, among which were children wounded from leftover cluster bombs. Driven by what he saw, he worked on The Plain of Jars for the next eight years.
Nick maintains a website with content that spans most aspects of the novel: The Secret War, Laotian culture, Buddhism etc.
His second novel, Journey Towards a Falling Sun, is set in the wild frontier of northern Kenya.
His latest novel, Justice Gone was inspired by the fatal beating of a homeless man by police.
Nick now lives in Phnom Penh, Cambodia
Follow the Author:
Website * Goodreads * Amazon
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February 20, 2019
The Watchmaker and Time by Devang Kanavia- Review
Book Name - The Watchmaker and Time Author - Devang Kanavia Publisher - Embassy Book DistributorsBuy books from Amazon
Review
Time and tide waits for none. Time is never constant. Time is something around which most of the philosophies are knitted.
Devang Kanavia, through his book, Watchmaker and time, tells the journey of the famous watchmaker Pedro, in search of the truth behind the enigma time. Pedro makes unique and famous watches. But till his granddaughter dumped him with a barrage of innocent yet philisophical questions, Pedro is flabbergasted to know that he had no idea about what exactly the time is and were it started. Pedro's quest for the answers lead to the rest of the book.
The characters are crafted with lot of authenticity. Pedro's granddaughter's inquisitiveness is just like how kids in general ask unending questions.
The book is short yet deep. The quest of truth is depicted simply yet deeply so that laymen could relate to it. Towards the second half, pace of the book shoots and drop a bit towards the climax. A book on philosophy is generally a tough one to fathom but this one is simple. The language is easily comprehensive and targets the youth as well.
The plot in general, is a thought provoking one, an easy one at that.
Verdict
Simple yet deep
Scenario: 4 /5Narration : 4/5Character : 4/5Entertainment Quotient: 4/5
This review is in return of a free book from the publisher
February 16, 2019
Colour me Father by Paolo Hewitt_ Review
Book Name - Color Me Father Author - Paolo HewittBuy books from Amazon
Review
Color me father is an open letter by a father to his son. It is not a mere letter it is a poetic prose with an in depth interaction between a father and his son. It is rather a monologue, an engaging one at that.
Author had kept the letter a purely impersonal one. He writes to his Son Rafi about his life, Rafi's life, his family, wife, Rafi's birth, his birth and many more things. Apart from these he has discussed several worldly matters with his son. As a father he is equipping his son to develop an awareness and opinion about everything around him.
The snippets of his past is a painful one. He has given the anecdotes in such a way that the readers won't be able to take it off from their mind considering the fact that it's reality. Despite having a troublesome childhood, he wants his Son to have a perfect life. The narration is literarily high value.
There are not characters as such. Rafi is also coming in the picture only when author addresses him. Nonetheless, Rafi is there throughout. Overall the book is simultaneously a heart-wrenching and heartwarming one. Nonetheless, the curse of losing the pace has followed this book like the majority of books in the world of literature. However author has succeeded in gaining the momentum back.
Scenario: 4.5 /5Narration : 4/5Character : 3/5
Entertainment Quotient:4 /5
This review is in return of a free book from the author
Book Name - Color Me Fa...
Review
Color me father is an open letter by a father to his son. It is not a mere letter it is a poetic prose with an in depth interaction between a father and his son. It is rather a monologue, an engaging one at that.
Author had kept the letter a purely impersonal one. He writes to his Son Rafi about his life, Rafi's life, his family, wife, Rafi's birth, his birth and many more things. Apart from these he has discussed several worldly matters with his son. As a father he is equipping his son to develop an awareness and opinion about everything around him.
The snippets of his past is a painful one. He has given the anecdotes in such a way that the readers won't be able to take it off from their mind considering the fact that it's reality. Despite having a troublesome childhood, he wants his Son to have a perfect life. The narration is literarily high value.
There are not characters as such. Rafi is also coming in the picture only when author addresses him. Nonetheless, Rafi is there throughout. Overall the book is simultaneously a heart-wrenching and heartwarming one. Nonetheless, the curse of losing the pace has followed this book like the majority of books in the world of literature. However author has succeeded in gaining the momentum back.
Scenario: 4.5 /5Narration : 4/5Character : 3/5
Entertainment Quotient:4 /5
This review is in return of a free book from the author
February 14, 2019
Homicide@Caramelo by Prasoon- Review
Book Name - Homicide@Caramello Author - PrasoonBuy books from Amazon
Review
For pulling off a thriller, the book needs to be huge, the character have to be numerous so that the suspense element is maintained throughout. This preset notion was changed by Ruskin bond in his book Perfect Murder. Nonetheless many did not dare to venture the same because to build up a plot and suspense simultaneously in lesser words is a challenging task.
Prasoon through his book Homicide@Caramello pulls of a similar attempt with success. The name itself is enough to excite the readers. Apparently the whole story in nutshell is the name itself. Caramello is a coffee shop inside hotel Hans. A murder that happened inside Caramello is the theme of the whole book. Aman is madly in love with his wife Ria who is pregnant. Ria stumbles upon something that spoils her sleep for good. She tries to reach to the bottom of it. Where she is led to in this attempt forms the rest of the book.
Each chapter ends with a suspense. Be it Riya's apprehensions or Dia's intrigue or Aman's interests, readers are forced to go on.The snippets of suspense in the end is the highlight of the book. Whatsoever thoughts the readers have, will be reinforced and reignited with these snippets. The unexpected twist in the penultimate chapter is commendable. It is not beyond the realm of reason but still comes across as a surprise. The climax could have been work on a bit more but the pros of such an approach is that it makes the reader read the book once more and mull over what it meant.
Verdict
A junior Ruskin Bond
Scenario: 4 /5Narration : 4.5/5Character : 4/5Entertainment Quotient: 4/5
This review is in return of a free book from the author
February 13, 2019
Between You and Me by Atul Khanna
Book Name - Between You and Me Author - Atul Khanna Publisher - BloomsburyBuy books from Amazon
Review
We celebrate our republic day on 26th January. But many of us don't know what is the meaning of being republic. Beyond the fundamental rights and duties, very few know about the constitution and its crux. Atul Khanna is one among those rare people and has written a book that lays bare the double standards and shortcoming in our constitution.
The book is multilayered and handles several variety of arenas where the change in the constitution is required. The book in short is the detailed analysis of the constitution and a set of suggestions to improve and moreover upgrade the constitution.
As a preface author throws light to the freedom struggle and tells the readers why the efforts from every freedom fighters except two were neglected. Author subtly divulges the strategy by the Nehru family in glorifying Jawaharlal Nehru whereas Ambedkar, the Architect of Indian constitution remained neglected till recently.
To begin with author enlightens the readers about the style of action and some sneak peek into the tenure of several leaders who did or did not hold cabinet positions. Author presents several suggestions as petitions, which, if followed could make a lot of changes in Indian economy. As the author puts forth India is trapped in the constitution that was made nearly a century back. The prime petition is for the mixed vote system. The idea on further thought seems like a wonderful thought. The process which is more or less a grading system will eradicate the favoritism. Likewise, several petitions are put forward. A few that on personal note, I found most effective will be mentioned here.
While Lokpal was formed, as every citizen, I also thought that something useful and effective is going to happen but apparently it turned out to be mere puppet. The case Jammu and Kashmir is indeed an eye opener for me. The second partition is something that was unknown to me and I am not very proud of it. The chapter is about repealing Article 370. It is a very important chapter in the whole book. The chapter about civil code is yet another important one.
Overall the book targets all practical areas that influences the lives of a citizen. It dissects the constitution in minute details and analyses it. In a few years the book would be a reference material to the political students. The book is recommended to every responsible Indian Citizens.
Scenario: 5/5Narration : 5/5Relevance : 5 /5Research :5/5
This review is in return of a free book from the author
February 10, 2019
Book Blitz- The Retreat by Mari.Reiza
~ Book Blitz ~The Retreat by Mari.Reiza Coming of Age / Psychological Thriller
About the Book:
An uncomfortable but fascinating ripening journey.
Ahmed has abandoned her. Nadia is gone the way Isabelle did before, her two fallen warriors. But Marie can still hear His voice clearly.
A deep call for justice takes hold in an impressionable teenage girl from a recently broken family during a religious retreat; what happens next will mark her life for years to come.
the Retreat is a story of men playing God, of hurt that doesn’t find its way out.
Find it on Amazon
Read an Extract:
‘So, mass girl,’ Hélène is calling Marie. ‘We’re planning a night escape from this hell in a couple of days, are you in?’
‘Won’t we get into trouble?’
‘Rules are there to be broken,’ Hélène smiles, ‘at least by me!’ And how she bets other people are breaking them too right then, convinced as Hélène is that Berger employs himself, as they speak, probably more playing (with his willy) than praying.
‘I’m in enough trouble as things are.’ Marie is thinking about her skiing, her skirt and Prudence’s unwelcome mulishness to mend her, as if she had much wrong in her.
‘What do you mean?’ Martine can’t wait to know what trouble Marie is in.
‘Nothing.’
‘We need to get out of here, into the real world,’ Hélène has a dream to sell, ‘down the bar. Buy some drinks. Dance to some music. Meet some boys...’ Martine makes a screaming face.
‘Things any normal girl is expected to do,’ she says reassuringly. ‘It’s not like we will be killing souls.’
Marie knows Hélène is right, but it’s also Marie’s belief, based on her little experience, that Hélène, her sister, Martine, are all there for a reason, that this retreat is full of girls who are either troubled or need attention because they are trouble. Can she trust them?
‘So, what happened at the caravan last year?’ she finally asks. ‘Could it happen again?’
Marie’s friends freeze.
‘The caravan was different.’ Hélène’s face turns sombre. She hadn’t expected the question. ‘We should have never been there.’
‘Fucking bastard,’ adds Martine.
‘What happened?’
‘We were a bit drunk,’ Hélène hesitates, ‘we were silly, but we should never have been put in that situation in the first place.’
‘The men were nice at first but then they were terrifying.’ Martine’s side of the story.
‘Isabelle had only acted in good faith, you know how she is,’ Hélène’s voice is down to a pensive whisper, ‘she’s such a do-
gooder at heart, nothing like them,’ she points to the door, ‘but a good-meaning person.’
‘And she’s stupid!’
‘Shut up, Martine.’
‘I mean, what world does she live in!’ Martine doesn’t shut up.
‘One where she only sees good in people.’
‘What did she do?’ Marie doesn’t understand. She didn’t expect Isabelle to be the culprit in this story.
‘She insisted on leaving the caravan,’ says Hélène, finally spilling the beans. ‘She had been talking to one of the young immigrants through a window, for over an hour, in Spanish, and claimed he had opened his soul to her and he needed her love, that we could not treat them like animals because they had gone through enough already.’
‘And then?’
‘These men had not seen women in months.’ Hélène sighs. ‘We were young, drunk. Probably looked like sluts to them.’
‘When Isabelle opened the door, it had been a trick,’ says Martine. ‘They all tried to push in and we managed to close it again but they took Isabelle.’
‘And you did not call anybody?’
‘How? By the Holy Spirit? We had been abandoned there. All we had been given was a shitty walkie-talkie the nuns never answered. And Isabelle on the other side of the door was not alarmed,’ insists Hélène, ‘not in the slightest, she insisted she would talk to them and disappeared down the camp, into another caravan.’
‘And you didn’t call anyone?’ Marie can’t believe they deserted their friend.
If the book interests you, you can request for a REVIEW COPY in exchange for an honest review.
About the Author:
Mari.Reiza was born in Madrid in 1973. She has worked as an investment research writer and management consultant for twenty years in London. She studied at Oxford University and lives off Portobello Road with her husband and child.
Find Mari at:
Twitter * Instagram
');
About the Book:
An uncomfortable but fascinating ripening journey.
Ahmed has abandoned her. Nadia is gone the way Isabelle did before, her two fallen warriors. But Marie can still hear His voice clearly.
A deep call for justice takes hold in an impressionable teenage girl from a recently broken family during a religious retreat; what happens next will mark her life for years to come.
the Retreat is a story of men playing God, of hurt that doesn’t find its way out.
Find it on Amazon
Read an Extract:
‘So, mass girl,’ Hélène is calling Marie. ‘We’re planning a night escape from this hell in a couple of days, are you in?’
‘Won’t we get into trouble?’
‘Rules are there to be broken,’ Hélène smiles, ‘at least by me!’ And how she bets other people are breaking them too right then, convinced as Hélène is that Berger employs himself, as they speak, probably more playing (with his willy) than praying.
‘I’m in enough trouble as things are.’ Marie is thinking about her skiing, her skirt and Prudence’s unwelcome mulishness to mend her, as if she had much wrong in her.
‘What do you mean?’ Martine can’t wait to know what trouble Marie is in.
‘Nothing.’
‘We need to get out of here, into the real world,’ Hélène has a dream to sell, ‘down the bar. Buy some drinks. Dance to some music. Meet some boys...’ Martine makes a screaming face.
‘Things any normal girl is expected to do,’ she says reassuringly. ‘It’s not like we will be killing souls.’
Marie knows Hélène is right, but it’s also Marie’s belief, based on her little experience, that Hélène, her sister, Martine, are all there for a reason, that this retreat is full of girls who are either troubled or need attention because they are trouble. Can she trust them?
‘So, what happened at the caravan last year?’ she finally asks. ‘Could it happen again?’
Marie’s friends freeze.
‘The caravan was different.’ Hélène’s face turns sombre. She hadn’t expected the question. ‘We should have never been there.’
‘Fucking bastard,’ adds Martine.
‘What happened?’
‘We were a bit drunk,’ Hélène hesitates, ‘we were silly, but we should never have been put in that situation in the first place.’
‘The men were nice at first but then they were terrifying.’ Martine’s side of the story.
‘Isabelle had only acted in good faith, you know how she is,’ Hélène’s voice is down to a pensive whisper, ‘she’s such a do-
gooder at heart, nothing like them,’ she points to the door, ‘but a good-meaning person.’
‘And she’s stupid!’
‘Shut up, Martine.’
‘I mean, what world does she live in!’ Martine doesn’t shut up.
‘One where she only sees good in people.’
‘What did she do?’ Marie doesn’t understand. She didn’t expect Isabelle to be the culprit in this story.
‘She insisted on leaving the caravan,’ says Hélène, finally spilling the beans. ‘She had been talking to one of the young immigrants through a window, for over an hour, in Spanish, and claimed he had opened his soul to her and he needed her love, that we could not treat them like animals because they had gone through enough already.’
‘And then?’
‘These men had not seen women in months.’ Hélène sighs. ‘We were young, drunk. Probably looked like sluts to them.’
‘When Isabelle opened the door, it had been a trick,’ says Martine. ‘They all tried to push in and we managed to close it again but they took Isabelle.’
‘And you did not call anybody?’
‘How? By the Holy Spirit? We had been abandoned there. All we had been given was a shitty walkie-talkie the nuns never answered. And Isabelle on the other side of the door was not alarmed,’ insists Hélène, ‘not in the slightest, she insisted she would talk to them and disappeared down the camp, into another caravan.’
‘And you didn’t call anyone?’ Marie can’t believe they deserted their friend.
If the book interests you, you can request for a REVIEW COPY in exchange for an honest review.
About the Author:
Mari.Reiza was born in Madrid in 1973. She has worked as an investment research writer and management consultant for twenty years in London. She studied at Oxford University and lives off Portobello Road with her husband and child.
Find Mari at:
Twitter * Instagram
');
February 7, 2019
Book Blitz- Prisoner of Yakutsk by Shreyas Bhave
~ Book Blitz ~Prisoner of Yakutsk by Shreyas BhaveThe Subhash Chandra Bose MysteryFinal Chapter 8th to 10th February
About the Author:
What exactly happened to Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose?
• In 1945, Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose, Leader of the INA leaves Singapore to take a series of flights, and dies in Taiwan after his plane crashes near Formosa. Or so it seems.• In 1947, Mr Mrs Singh, an illustrious army couple, both veterans of the Indian National Army, are last seen in Delhi, and then never again.• In 1949, the plane carrying the first deputy Prime Minister of India, Sardar Vallabhai Patel, mysteriously disappears for seven hours.• In 2012, following the fall of WikiLeaks, a female hacker of the notorious X group is on the run as most wanted by everyone from Interpol to the KGB• In 2015, the millionaire CEO of a Fortune 500 company suddenly resigns and vanishes from the public eye.
A set of seemingly unconnected disappearances emerge to be woven into a single fabric as the answer to one leads to another… In this riveting narrative, bestselling author Shreyas Bhave, takes the reader on a thrilling adventure to solve the greatest mystery the Indian nation has known.
Book Links: Goodreads * Amazon
Read an Excerpt:
Colonel Hardy looked at his wristwatch. It was almost time for the Court Marshall to begin. But then there were so many trials squeezed into one day that it was natural for his colleagues to be late for this one. He decided to start without them. “So, born in Lahore, eh?” he asked, eyes still on the files.
“Born and brought up there, Sir,” Major Singh replied. “I graduated from Government College, Lahore, and then sat for the Military Entrance Exam, passing which, I went to the Indian Military Academy at Dehra Doon.” Major Singh’s English was impeccable.
“Which year batch was it? “Hardy asked, impressed by the Punjabi’s resume. He himself was an alumnus of the same institute, though a few years junior to this man.
“1936.”
“Good.” Colonel Hardy gnawed his lower lip. So the Punjabi Major was his senior by almost half a decade.
“I was commissioned as Second Lieutenant on the Special List in early 1939,” Singh said, standing straight in the dock. “2nd Battalion. The Highlanders!”
“Secunderabad, right?”
“Indeed. A boring year until we were sent to the Far East to hold a garrison in a quaint little British port.”
Colonel Hardy read further. “Singapore, huh.”
“The war was soon to come.”
Hardy smiled as he went through the war records in the files. “I see one promotion after another. In less than six months, you were Acting Captain.”
“I served with distinction. Your army promotes on talent alone; I’ll give you that.” Singh bowed.
Colonel Hardy closed the files and looked up. “Japanese prisoner-of-war in Malaya, 1941 – what happened?”
“I was captured in Malaya.” Singh twisted his thick mustache. “I had taken my regiment on a midnight raid on the Japanese docking station on the island of Java.”
Book Trailer:
About the Author: Shreyas Bhave's love for history since his childhood prompted him to write his take on the story of Asoka who was one of the towering figures in the history of India, which has been taken up as ‘The Asoka Trilogy’ by Leadstart Publishing. The first part of the trilogy called ‘The Prince of Patliputra’ has been published in January 2016 and the second part called 'Storm From Taxila' was published in 2018.
Connect with the Author:
Website * Facebook * Twitter
');
About the Author:
What exactly happened to Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose?• In 1945, Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose, Leader of the INA leaves Singapore to take a series of flights, and dies in Taiwan after his plane crashes near Formosa. Or so it seems.• In 1947, Mr Mrs Singh, an illustrious army couple, both veterans of the Indian National Army, are last seen in Delhi, and then never again.• In 1949, the plane carrying the first deputy Prime Minister of India, Sardar Vallabhai Patel, mysteriously disappears for seven hours.• In 2012, following the fall of WikiLeaks, a female hacker of the notorious X group is on the run as most wanted by everyone from Interpol to the KGB• In 2015, the millionaire CEO of a Fortune 500 company suddenly resigns and vanishes from the public eye.
A set of seemingly unconnected disappearances emerge to be woven into a single fabric as the answer to one leads to another… In this riveting narrative, bestselling author Shreyas Bhave, takes the reader on a thrilling adventure to solve the greatest mystery the Indian nation has known.
Book Links: Goodreads * Amazon
Read an Excerpt:
Colonel Hardy looked at his wristwatch. It was almost time for the Court Marshall to begin. But then there were so many trials squeezed into one day that it was natural for his colleagues to be late for this one. He decided to start without them. “So, born in Lahore, eh?” he asked, eyes still on the files.
“Born and brought up there, Sir,” Major Singh replied. “I graduated from Government College, Lahore, and then sat for the Military Entrance Exam, passing which, I went to the Indian Military Academy at Dehra Doon.” Major Singh’s English was impeccable.
“Which year batch was it? “Hardy asked, impressed by the Punjabi’s resume. He himself was an alumnus of the same institute, though a few years junior to this man.
“1936.”
“Good.” Colonel Hardy gnawed his lower lip. So the Punjabi Major was his senior by almost half a decade.
“I was commissioned as Second Lieutenant on the Special List in early 1939,” Singh said, standing straight in the dock. “2nd Battalion. The Highlanders!”
“Secunderabad, right?”
“Indeed. A boring year until we were sent to the Far East to hold a garrison in a quaint little British port.”
Colonel Hardy read further. “Singapore, huh.”
“The war was soon to come.”
Hardy smiled as he went through the war records in the files. “I see one promotion after another. In less than six months, you were Acting Captain.”
“I served with distinction. Your army promotes on talent alone; I’ll give you that.” Singh bowed.
Colonel Hardy closed the files and looked up. “Japanese prisoner-of-war in Malaya, 1941 – what happened?”
“I was captured in Malaya.” Singh twisted his thick mustache. “I had taken my regiment on a midnight raid on the Japanese docking station on the island of Java.”
Book Trailer:
About the Author: Shreyas Bhave's love for history since his childhood prompted him to write his take on the story of Asoka who was one of the towering figures in the history of India, which has been taken up as ‘The Asoka Trilogy’ by Leadstart Publishing. The first part of the trilogy called ‘The Prince of Patliputra’ has been published in January 2016 and the second part called 'Storm From Taxila' was published in 2018.
Connect with the Author:
Website * Facebook * Twitter
');
