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The Alchemy of Desire
Set against the brilliantly drawn backdrop of India at the turn of the millennium, The Alchemy of Desire tells the story of a young couple, penniless but gloriously in love. Obsessed with each other, they move from a small town to the big city, where the man, who dreams of being a writer, works feverishly on a novel, stopping only to feed his ceaseless desire for his beautiful wife.
A chance occurrence allows the lovers to abandon the city for a mist-shrouded spur of the lower Himalayas and move into a sprawling old house, which they hope will embody their love. At first they pursue their deep physical need with a reckless intensity. But during renovations of the house, a set of diaries written by the original inhabitant—a glamorous American adventuress—is unearthed, and the narrator finds himself irresistibly drawn away from his wife and thrust into another world and time, into the hole of history. As his life and love fall apart, he slowly begins to uncover the dark secrets at the heart of her story, until the shocking truth is laid bare and all certainties are overturned.
Inventive, playful, heartbreaking, brimming with ideas and memorable characters, The Alchemy of Desire celebrates the chaotic spirit of a country during a time of great change. It also offers, in searing, lucid prose, a deeply sensual and moving meditation on the nature of desire, history, truth, and art. This is a major novel by one of the most significant new voices of his generation.
A chance occurrence allows the lovers to abandon the city for a mist-shrouded spur of the lower Himalayas and move into a sprawling old house, which they hope will embody their love. At first they pursue their deep physical need with a reckless intensity. But during renovations of the house, a set of diaries written by the original inhabitant—a glamorous American adventuress—is unearthed, and the narrator finds himself irresistibly drawn away from his wife and thrust into another world and time, into the hole of history. As his life and love fall apart, he slowly begins to uncover the dark secrets at the heart of her story, until the shocking truth is laid bare and all certainties are overturned.
Inventive, playful, heartbreaking, brimming with ideas and memorable characters, The Alchemy of Desire celebrates the chaotic spirit of a country during a time of great change. It also offers, in searing, lucid prose, a deeply sensual and moving meditation on the nature of desire, history, truth, and art. This is a major novel by one of the most significant new voices of his generation.
528 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 2005
106 people are currently reading
1775 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 190 reviews
March 17, 2015
Garbage of Higher Order!
Sexual extravagance can be employed as a shocking factor, especially in transgressive fictions, case in point Charles Bukowski. Just a shocking phenomenon, you can’t expect to glue your readers only with that. There is so much wetness. You might skid on it and damage your cerebellum even before crossing 50 pages, if you are not very careful. If you don’t get what that wetness is, you aren’t perverse enough. At the 100th page, you can’t wait to get through the motion (pun intended).
After about 120 pages, a back story starts in 1980s. Tarun J Tejpal must have thought, “It is not a soft porn, this should represent whole India, North India at the least. Let me throw in Punjab insurgency!” So, we get bloods, guts and all gory things. Of course, more wetness! To Mr. Tejpal, chimneys resemble phallus, rhino horn resembles phallus and anything which stands up resembles only one thing. Seriously?! D:<
Another backstory. So this time ’Partition of India’ it is! Not much chance for wetness with characters involved. So what do we get from this bold writer. A hindu woman crosses border with her money stuffed inside vagina.
Yet another backstory. More back stories for characters in that back story. After 350 pages, the book actually picks up pace and reads like a decent fiction. Not just mere wetness, you get flooded at this point. Onanism, Sodomism, Mughal Harem, Botanical Tour and Birdwatch thrown in between. What do we get then. Sushi with a gulp of Sake. Yes, Mr.Holmes uncovers a mystery in 'Rashomon' style.
Without a doubt, it is a daring, bold, beautiful, intense, sensual and hard hitting fiction. Where is the catch then. Everything is a little bit too much and you end up with a verbal diarrhea.
Sexual extravagance can be employed as a shocking factor, especially in transgressive fictions, case in point Charles Bukowski. Just a shocking phenomenon, you can’t expect to glue your readers only with that. There is so much wetness. You might skid on it and damage your cerebellum even before crossing 50 pages, if you are not very careful. If you don’t get what that wetness is, you aren’t perverse enough. At the 100th page, you can’t wait to get through the motion (pun intended).
After about 120 pages, a back story starts in 1980s. Tarun J Tejpal must have thought, “It is not a soft porn, this should represent whole India, North India at the least. Let me throw in Punjab insurgency!” So, we get bloods, guts and all gory things. Of course, more wetness! To Mr. Tejpal, chimneys resemble phallus, rhino horn resembles phallus and anything which stands up resembles only one thing. Seriously?! D:<
Another backstory. So this time ’Partition of India’ it is! Not much chance for wetness with characters involved. So what do we get from this bold writer. A hindu woman crosses border with her money stuffed inside vagina.
Yet another backstory. More back stories for characters in that back story. After 350 pages, the book actually picks up pace and reads like a decent fiction. Not just mere wetness, you get flooded at this point. Onanism, Sodomism, Mughal Harem, Botanical Tour and Birdwatch thrown in between. What do we get then. Sushi with a gulp of Sake. Yes, Mr.Holmes uncovers a mystery in 'Rashomon' style.
Without a doubt, it is a daring, bold, beautiful, intense, sensual and hard hitting fiction. Where is the catch then. Everything is a little bit too much and you end up with a verbal diarrhea.
October 21, 2019
Utter trash entwined with historical real or fictitious events to give the book a raison d'etre, but alas it is just bad sex all around.
just don't.
just don't.
November 21, 2009
This is a very well written book with a steady subject at hand. My main issue is that it is over 500 pages long, of which 200+ pages could've been cut to get us to the point. This book is split up into five sections: Karma, Sathya, Kama, etc. (translated as action, love, money, desire, etc.)
We start with our nameless narrator and his wife, Fizz, at a crux in their marriage after fifteen years. For some reason he just doesn't desire her body anymore as he has constantly for the duration of their relationship. (The reason is not yet fully explained, but is touched upon in the back cover copy.) We end the first section with his wife leaving him. We begin the next section with their relationship in its better moments, his struggling life as a writer, their struggling for money as he finds the great novel within him, Indian history. Then, we're on to our narrator's family history, more of their relationship, odd-jobs they work to keep themselves afloat, more random stories, etc., etc. In the 'Money' section we learn he has inherited money from an aunt who disproved of his marrying a Muslim and so they spend recklessly and end up buying a home in Chandigarh. On to the next section where the reader FINALLY learns as to what caused the narrator to draw away from his wife. He has found more than sixty notebooks from an American woman that had inhabited the home and whose soul and (perhaps curse) inflicts him sexually then through abuse in his dreams causing him to be completely spent by the time he awakes to his beautiful Fizz. The next portion is her story as he's been able to decipher it through her journals (and here we have even more SEX, written tastefully but clearly) until we move on to the final section where our narrator realizes he is nothing without Fizz though he has sat for over two years letting these journals consume him. His last line is a reversal of the first line in the book realizing that real intimacy is at it's best when love is involved.
Like I said, a VERY sexual book. I'd say 75% has a reference, details, or speaks to intense fornication between the main characters or others, in particular through the American woman's journal when she was in France and her remaining time in India with her lover. Tejpal tips to India's history and background in sections that aren't too daunting to read about, but they do tend to shift focus from the main narrative causing one to want to skip. I'd suggest reading nonetheless as I found myself enthralled by certain chapters, sections, but again think this could've been condensed to make the story flow and for us not to have to wallow with the protagonist.
We start with our nameless narrator and his wife, Fizz, at a crux in their marriage after fifteen years. For some reason he just doesn't desire her body anymore as he has constantly for the duration of their relationship. (The reason is not yet fully explained, but is touched upon in the back cover copy.) We end the first section with his wife leaving him. We begin the next section with their relationship in its better moments, his struggling life as a writer, their struggling for money as he finds the great novel within him, Indian history. Then, we're on to our narrator's family history, more of their relationship, odd-jobs they work to keep themselves afloat, more random stories, etc., etc. In the 'Money' section we learn he has inherited money from an aunt who disproved of his marrying a Muslim and so they spend recklessly and end up buying a home in Chandigarh. On to the next section where the reader FINALLY learns as to what caused the narrator to draw away from his wife. He has found more than sixty notebooks from an American woman that had inhabited the home and whose soul and (perhaps curse) inflicts him sexually then through abuse in his dreams causing him to be completely spent by the time he awakes to his beautiful Fizz. The next portion is her story as he's been able to decipher it through her journals (and here we have even more SEX, written tastefully but clearly) until we move on to the final section where our narrator realizes he is nothing without Fizz though he has sat for over two years letting these journals consume him. His last line is a reversal of the first line in the book realizing that real intimacy is at it's best when love is involved.
Like I said, a VERY sexual book. I'd say 75% has a reference, details, or speaks to intense fornication between the main characters or others, in particular through the American woman's journal when she was in France and her remaining time in India with her lover. Tejpal tips to India's history and background in sections that aren't too daunting to read about, but they do tend to shift focus from the main narrative causing one to want to skip. I'd suggest reading nonetheless as I found myself enthralled by certain chapters, sections, but again think this could've been condensed to make the story flow and for us not to have to wallow with the protagonist.
September 22, 2007
Soft porn.
September 8, 2008
Do you remember Tarun Tejpal? The Editor-in-Chief of the revolutionary newspaper Tehelka? Very recently he has published a novel. The name of the book is The Alchemy of Desire. Last week I bought it from The Starmark on Lord Sinha Road. I would not mind saying that it is a nice fiction inspite of the fact that I have not finished even half of it yet. He sets the mood with the powerful starting line which says Love is not the greatest glue between two people. Sex is. How true! Being a person who loves to call himself impulsive, I would still say that emotional bondings attached with physical attraction are much more stronger compared to the platonic love of old Hindi flicks. And I can say that from my personal experience of being a person who have been in and out of love quite a number of times.
The story revolves around an impecunious young couple from a small town in India who are madly in love with eachother, move to the big city. The man works hard on a novel while caring only about his endless desire for his beautiful wife. In time they leave the city and moves to an old house in the Himalayas. While renovating their new home the husband discovers a chest full of diaries maintained by the previous owner of the house. In those diaries he slowly uncovers a dark secret, a forbidden secret.
It a nice buy and is worth every penny And once you start reading it, it's pretty difficult to put it down. It is published by Picador India and the cover price is Rs325.
The story revolves around an impecunious young couple from a small town in India who are madly in love with eachother, move to the big city. The man works hard on a novel while caring only about his endless desire for his beautiful wife. In time they leave the city and moves to an old house in the Himalayas. While renovating their new home the husband discovers a chest full of diaries maintained by the previous owner of the house. In those diaries he slowly uncovers a dark secret, a forbidden secret.
It a nice buy and is worth every penny And once you start reading it, it's pretty difficult to put it down. It is published by Picador India and the cover price is Rs325.
August 26, 2017
This is surely one of the most difficult reviews I have had to write in the recent past. I honestly did not know what to make of this book. It has been written well but I am not happy with the structure nor the size of the book. The plot does not move till you are through with 50% of the book. Till then the author is busy trying to share his personal sexual experiences / fantasies (which he is surely well accomplished in). But this is surely not my cup of tea.
The book ends in a whimper and you wonder why the author spent 515 pages to tell us that love is more important than sex! Unless you are a student of literature I would recommend you to skip this one. His other book is better
The book ends in a whimper and you wonder why the author spent 515 pages to tell us that love is more important than sex! Unless you are a student of literature I would recommend you to skip this one. His other book is better
August 21, 2008
One of those time-pass books. The man has a hang up about sex. Life for him seems to revolve around it. I think he should stick to Tehelka.
March 22, 2014
Love is not the strongest glue between two people, Sex is... that's the hard hitting opening line of the book. This is the first book written by Tarun Tejpal,and what an amazing piece of work he has come up with. New readers might find it hard to digest but I have found it to be a truly great art of work. He has written with style and flare of the likes of Salman Rushdie and Naipaul.
Its just not about the protagonist's unsatiable desire for his wife but also how that desire gets him through the nuances of life. The title of the book is so apt that its unbeatable. The writer so beautifully depicts the ageless desire to be so fulfilling that it almost fills every crevice of your life. The language and expressions are those used for the highlest level of love, almost devotion.I would suggest it to be a must read !!!
Its just not about the protagonist's unsatiable desire for his wife but also how that desire gets him through the nuances of life. The title of the book is so apt that its unbeatable. The writer so beautifully depicts the ageless desire to be so fulfilling that it almost fills every crevice of your life. The language and expressions are those used for the highlest level of love, almost devotion.I would suggest it to be a must read !!!
September 30, 2017
People who consider themselves as intellectuals, share a common flaw. They have this weird sense of self importance and vanity, which makes them spew constant analysis, judgements and criticism on sundry topics like, politics, history, sociology, philosophy and human psychology. Gladly, the author too shares this opinion, going as far as coining a term for such intellectuals. Not so gladly, the author himself is one of them.
This novel suffers in the bargain. The novel is good in rare places, mostly it is very boring. Too much space goes into description of minor things, repetitions, lacklustre sex (one review I came across calls this book 'soft porn'. I wish to make an addition -- it is a 'wannabe soft porn'. The sexual bits are totally flat, with no or fleeting foreplay. I recommend Kamasutra to the learned author -- to be studied in depth and detail. To not just be read, but to be felt and breathed. So as to ensure that no more works of his suffer the hard-on, lift, smell, enter, orgasm routine. It is obvious that the author is a mainstream porn junky!).
It is very difficult to slot this book in a particupar genre. Is it a romance? A whodunit? An erotica? An intellectual study of Indian society, pre and post Independence? An identity search novel? A historical fiction? Or like the protagonist, Tejpal wanted to write a masterpiece, but kept losing interest in his story soon after he started? Eventually just stringing along whatever sprung up?
I had decided to allot 3 stars to his book... but now after reviewing it, I guess I think even 2 would be a lot!
The redeeming factors are clearly the language, and the prose. Being a journalist, it is small mercy that we don't have to suffer a half-baked, under-editted work by some former Marketing Manager or a businessman, having zilch literary sense.
All-in-all, this author could actually write a good book. He has the tools. Lets see if he, and his protagonist, can come around to actually writing one.
This novel suffers in the bargain. The novel is good in rare places, mostly it is very boring. Too much space goes into description of minor things, repetitions, lacklustre sex (one review I came across calls this book 'soft porn'. I wish to make an addition -- it is a 'wannabe soft porn'. The sexual bits are totally flat, with no or fleeting foreplay. I recommend Kamasutra to the learned author -- to be studied in depth and detail. To not just be read, but to be felt and breathed. So as to ensure that no more works of his suffer the hard-on, lift, smell, enter, orgasm routine. It is obvious that the author is a mainstream porn junky!).
It is very difficult to slot this book in a particupar genre. Is it a romance? A whodunit? An erotica? An intellectual study of Indian society, pre and post Independence? An identity search novel? A historical fiction? Or like the protagonist, Tejpal wanted to write a masterpiece, but kept losing interest in his story soon after he started? Eventually just stringing along whatever sprung up?
I had decided to allot 3 stars to his book... but now after reviewing it, I guess I think even 2 would be a lot!
The redeeming factors are clearly the language, and the prose. Being a journalist, it is small mercy that we don't have to suffer a half-baked, under-editted work by some former Marketing Manager or a businessman, having zilch literary sense.
All-in-all, this author could actually write a good book. He has the tools. Lets see if he, and his protagonist, can come around to actually writing one.
December 9, 2014
This book was all over the place, as if the author couldn't decide which story to tell so he attempted to blend all of them. The story between the narrator and his wife was the most interesting. The slow-motion breakdown of their marriage was heart wrenching. Interesting tidbits on the cultural and political decline of India were sprinkled throughout the novel, and I have to assume what the narrator spouted was the author's own opinion. The narrator was also an author and portions of his writing were woven into the main storyline. Then there was the story within a story as the narrator read a dead character's journals. That portion was unbelievable and ridiculous. The 'desire' portion of the novel was tastefully written until the journal saga began. I found it interesting that a story about characters living in a multi-deity culture came across as incredibly godless. The worst and most unusual part of the novel was the overabundant references to armpits. Bizarre...
May 11, 2015
The biggest mistake of my life was to decide reading this book. I looked at the first and last page before selecting it to read, because the first line started with something like how two people are joined together with the strongest force of "sex" and the book ended with the same phrase but the word sex being replaced with 'love'. I was interested in reading how the book lead to that conclusion. This book was a huge disappointment. It was really a book containing soft porn with a little touch on homosexuality too but overall this book is a cocktail of sexual acts with various partners from the past (the lead character finds some diaries on details of sexual acts) and present (of himself and partner). There was no substance or meaning to the book. It didn't even make sense to me how the realisation or the conclusion was reached after all. Just rubbish!
February 12, 2017
Desperate writing. Half the book reads like porn. A young couple, man is writer and is writing the story in first person. I should have taken the hint when the first sentence reads "love is not the greatest glue between two people. Sex is" So the author apparently believes that the glue between a novel and reader is also provided by sex and its description. The excuse for this unbridled display of amorous tendencies is that the couple is "madly in love". Huh? The flow of story is uneven, sudden gush of emotional outpouring absorbed by long laborious descriptions of pathological ardour. The book as well as it's reading was a wasted chance. Why did I bother reading till the end? Cos I hoped for some story to finally emerge. There are glimpses but wholly unsatisfactory
July 9, 2008
This book ...hmmm, I've read 450 pages in 5 days; yet can't find anything good to say about it. What does that mean? Seems like such a personal fantasy, not that interesting even though it seems like given the topic it should be. All the reviews on the back were great, but these critics were coming from a place as viewing this as an "Indian novel" by and "Indian" writer. I'm just not feeling it. Except I like some of the early descriptions of the house, and the gardens.
June 5, 2008
This book is about f#@$ing. Straight up, don't get it twisted, this book is not about making sweet love or the comfort of a warm and loving embrace, its about f@$#ing. If Fabio was from India, he would be on the cover. If I had to read one more time about someone's "musk", so help me... It would be one thing if there had been a compelling story to back up the kink, but no. Save your rupees, this book is dumb.
August 23, 2015
I am quite ambiguous about this book. The storyline is not linear which makes it interesting in my point of view. I enjoyed the rhythm and it seems to me that it takes the whole book for our want-to-be writer to truly appreciate his wife Fizz. While the book has a high sexual content, I never thought that if could be considered as soft porn. Interested in reading his other book "The story of my Assassins."
February 5, 2008
I was excited by the first pages of the book and the amazing descriptions of the countryside in India. However, this long-winded book doesn't move beyond those first few pages - continuing in detail to describe the main character's writer's block and erotic obsessions of a ghost. While I was loathe to do so, I finished the book to see if there was a return to grace but with no satisfaction.
August 14, 2008
Boring. Haven't picked it up in a week or so. Although the prose is beautiful the excessive descriptions are too long and my interest is lost. Decided to not continue with it. I believe Good Reads reviews were fairly accurate with this one but I do not have the patience to read it all the way through only to be disappointed.
March 12, 2008
I loved this book. From the start to the finish. From the city to the hill station to the diaries to the sex to an attempt to move on. Brilliantly written, loved the language. Worth reading for sure.
April 22, 2021
Nu dragostea este cel mai puternic liant dintre doi oameni. Ci sexul.
Legile elementare ale fizicii spun că este mai greu să desparţi două corpuri care sunt unite la mijloc, decât dacă ar fi unite pe undeva înspre vârf sau înspre bază.
Încă o mai iubeam la nebunie atunci când am părăsit-o, însă dorinţa se stinsese şi nici măcar toţi anii în care am împărţit totul şi ne-am mângâiat, şi am descoperit, şi am călătorit, nu mi-au putut sta în cale atunci când am plecat de lângă ea.
Sau poate că îmi amintesc eu greşit.
La drept vorbind, nu eu am fost cel care a plecat. Ci Fizz.
Dar adevărul este că ea – de altfel, ca întotdeauna – a făcut ce am vrut eu să facă, ce i-am poruncit eu să facă. Iar eu am făcut ce am făcut pentru că, la momentul respectiv, trupul meu deja nu mai putea găsi calea către al ei; şi oricine a frământat şi a străpuns atât mintea, cât şi trupul, poate să spună că acesta din urmă, cu toate poftele lui sâcâitoare, este adevăratul motor al vieţii. Mintea nu face altceva decât să-i indice calea pe care s-o urmeze sau, eventual, să-i ţină vreo predică pompoasă atunci când nu există nici o altă cale.
Furia înciudată a puritanilor şi a moraliştilor sau strigătele chinuite ale acelora ale căror trupuri n-au reuşit să găsească drumul către fericire. Când mă uit la clerici – hinduşi, musulmani, sau creştini – cum blestemă poftele trupului, nu văd decât nişte oameni rătăciţi şi furioşi, şi frustraţi. Dacă ei n-au fost în stare să se scufunde în gloria cărnii, dacă n-au fost în stare să găsească acea cale care i-ar fi condus către o fericire mai presus de orice altceva, sunt în schimb hotărâţi să-i bage în ceaţă şi pe ceilalţi călători. Aceia care nu reuşesc să-şi descopere sinapsa sexuală fac în aşa fel încât să ne învrăjbească nouă trupurile şi minţile.
Nimic de zis, există şi oameni care au într-adevăr o legătură cu divinitatea, aşa cum există şi rinoceri cu un singur corn, dar astfel de oameni sunt puţini şi sunt departe, şi îi recunoşti uşor atunci când îi vezi. Nouă, celorlalţi, trupul ne este templu.
Legile elementare ale fizicii spun că este mai greu să desparţi două corpuri care sunt unite la mijloc, decât dacă ar fi unite pe undeva înspre vârf sau înspre bază.
Încă o mai iubeam la nebunie atunci când am părăsit-o, însă dorinţa se stinsese şi nici măcar toţi anii în care am împărţit totul şi ne-am mângâiat, şi am descoperit, şi am călătorit, nu mi-au putut sta în cale atunci când am plecat de lângă ea.
Sau poate că îmi amintesc eu greşit.
La drept vorbind, nu eu am fost cel care a plecat. Ci Fizz.
Dar adevărul este că ea – de altfel, ca întotdeauna – a făcut ce am vrut eu să facă, ce i-am poruncit eu să facă. Iar eu am făcut ce am făcut pentru că, la momentul respectiv, trupul meu deja nu mai putea găsi calea către al ei; şi oricine a frământat şi a străpuns atât mintea, cât şi trupul, poate să spună că acesta din urmă, cu toate poftele lui sâcâitoare, este adevăratul motor al vieţii. Mintea nu face altceva decât să-i indice calea pe care s-o urmeze sau, eventual, să-i ţină vreo predică pompoasă atunci când nu există nici o altă cale.
Furia înciudată a puritanilor şi a moraliştilor sau strigătele chinuite ale acelora ale căror trupuri n-au reuşit să găsească drumul către fericire. Când mă uit la clerici – hinduşi, musulmani, sau creştini – cum blestemă poftele trupului, nu văd decât nişte oameni rătăciţi şi furioşi, şi frustraţi. Dacă ei n-au fost în stare să se scufunde în gloria cărnii, dacă n-au fost în stare să găsească acea cale care i-ar fi condus către o fericire mai presus de orice altceva, sunt în schimb hotărâţi să-i bage în ceaţă şi pe ceilalţi călători. Aceia care nu reuşesc să-şi descopere sinapsa sexuală fac în aşa fel încât să ne învrăjbească nouă trupurile şi minţile.
Nimic de zis, există şi oameni care au într-adevăr o legătură cu divinitatea, aşa cum există şi rinoceri cu un singur corn, dar astfel de oameni sunt puţini şi sunt departe, şi îi recunoşti uşor atunci când îi vezi. Nouă, celorlalţi, trupul ne este templu.
February 19, 2017
I have struggled to finish this book and I have my reasons! The book is over 500 pages out of which at least half of it is just plain sexual content which is constructed in a way that after a point of time it just gets redundant. That's where I felt like just dropping it half read but on the contrary there is some beautiful writing too.
"Lovers need the gift of the story. They need to tell stories to each other continually to keep themselves from disappearing. Passionate love has nothing to do with any obvious attributes of the lover - class, intellect, looks, character. It has got to do with the stories the lover can tell. When the stories are stirring, complex, profound, - like great fiction they need never be crudely true- then so is the love. When the stories are thin - their grammar sloppy, their life- force weak, their plot tawdry- then so is the love."
"Like great fiction, the stories lovers tell each other can be about anything and can be told in any tone. They can have the exuberance of Dickens or be spare like Hemingway; then can team as Joyce or confound as Kafka; they can be mad as Lewis Carroll or sad as Thomas Hardy. They can be anything - grim, comic, philosophic, loony. But they must be true. "
Pick this one up only if you are patient enough, for beautiful lines appear occasionally.
"Lovers need the gift of the story. They need to tell stories to each other continually to keep themselves from disappearing. Passionate love has nothing to do with any obvious attributes of the lover - class, intellect, looks, character. It has got to do with the stories the lover can tell. When the stories are stirring, complex, profound, - like great fiction they need never be crudely true- then so is the love. When the stories are thin - their grammar sloppy, their life- force weak, their plot tawdry- then so is the love."
"Like great fiction, the stories lovers tell each other can be about anything and can be told in any tone. They can have the exuberance of Dickens or be spare like Hemingway; then can team as Joyce or confound as Kafka; they can be mad as Lewis Carroll or sad as Thomas Hardy. They can be anything - grim, comic, philosophic, loony. But they must be true. "
Pick this one up only if you are patient enough, for beautiful lines appear occasionally.
December 11, 2012
Its one of the most annoying and worthless novel I have come across in the recent past...It seems Mr. Tejpal was in dilemma how to write a thick novel and impress his readers. So, he chose a stupid plot and filled it up with too much of detailing of each abstract.
At times you want to throw the book because it becomes too irritating to read too much of details. This book is dictionary of synonyms it seems. For instance, If Mr. Tejpal talks about trees, he mentions whole lot of paragraph just naming those trees. Similarly, mountains, desire, etc.
Mr. Tejpal tries really hard to be funny at times but at the end it turns out to be too much repeatitve and complete waste!!!
For people who love fiction, trust me dont even think of reading this. Its one of those read which you cant even remember even if you try to!!!!
At times you want to throw the book because it becomes too irritating to read too much of details. This book is dictionary of synonyms it seems. For instance, If Mr. Tejpal talks about trees, he mentions whole lot of paragraph just naming those trees. Similarly, mountains, desire, etc.
Mr. Tejpal tries really hard to be funny at times but at the end it turns out to be too much repeatitve and complete waste!!!
For people who love fiction, trust me dont even think of reading this. Its one of those read which you cant even remember even if you try to!!!!
August 17, 2015
Tarun Tejpal is a masterful writer, and his gripping prose keeps the reader hooked until the last page.
However, his liberal use of the shock factor began to grate on my nerves, and it was difficult to get through 500+ pages of his meandering plot and weak transitions. I felt he could have done so much more with his novel's vivid characters and historical backdrop.
Overall, not a book I'd recommend.
However, his liberal use of the shock factor began to grate on my nerves, and it was difficult to get through 500+ pages of his meandering plot and weak transitions. I felt he could have done so much more with his novel's vivid characters and historical backdrop.
Overall, not a book I'd recommend.
September 7, 2020
There is such a thing as too much sex, and this book is a perfect example. Full of characters whose very lives are defined by the daily-multiple-orgasm producing sex they have. It's so unreal, it's stupid. Practical aspects of relationships were not visible anywhere. Its like an unending wet dream.
The only thing I sort of liked was the way the story unraveled.
The only thing I sort of liked was the way the story unraveled.
March 9, 2009
Not much what I expected too, many times I had to skip pages which keep on stating same thing again and again. can't say a must read. I will be starting next book from the person, story of my assassin, hope thats better
June 16, 2014
I quite enjoyed thus book, but if I'd wanted to read porn I would have been better off buying a magazine. I am not sure how an author can write so much about sex and make it so dull. It would have been a much better book with a bit of editing and losing 120 pages.
October 3, 2017
Porn sugar coated in a flowery language. bought the book, read it , thought it could have been smaller. wasted time and money and imagination. no wonder such a habits of author shown him his real place.
September 17, 2007
I really really tried to like this book. But in the end I had to accept it's mediocrity. Or my ignorance about erotic literature. Or my ignorance about Indian literature. Whatever. Not that good.
June 4, 2008
Too slow-moving and seemed to be nothing more than a string of sex scenes and not much else so I had to abandon it.
July 16, 2008
a little hard to get through as a lot of details our very India- centric. only made it half through... just not that great.
July 9, 2020
i really had a hard time finishing few pages.
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