InstaReview from fiction_head


InstaReview from fiction_head

Q the nerd is strung along on a midnight adventure by the secret love of his life, Margo. The next day, she disappears leaving clues for our smitten boy. What ensues is a wild goose chase for Margo who is just beyond reach. A mix of silly and gripping scenes bring out teenage turmoils pretty well. I take particular offence to Margo because her enigma goes bust with "i-did-leave-clues-for-you-but-i-never-thought-you'd-come-find-me"! (Yes, we saw the clues but figured, myeh!) With #youngadult staples like revenge #adventure, graduation party and #roadtrip it could be thrilling for a 16-year-old but thankfully I am twice the age.My rating: 2/5#johngreen #papertowns #bookstagram #booksofinstagram #reviews #bookreview

What Should I Read On A Roadtrip

I am researching what to read on a road trip. This, I presume, will help me process the fact that I will soon be on the mother of all road trips–The Great Indian Drive featuring A&T. It’s going to be epic as always!
Here’s my road trip reading list
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All the lists I referenced strongly suggest that I read this one. It’s what got wanderlust into Americans.
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Tamil writing, it seems to me, possesses an earthy connection that is comforting in its openness and lack of posturing. I foresee those would come handy as I negotiate the great Indian hinterland.
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Cobalt Blue came to me by way of my obsession with Jerry Pinto’s writing. The plot revolves around a brother and sister who fall in love with the same man! How in the world is this book not more popular? And what more exciting to read in unknown territory?
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My holidays always end on a high. If Fault in Our Stars is anything to go by, Paper Towns sounds like just the teen heartpulp I need!
Surely, I am not going to read any more than these. But I would love to hear from you. I still have time to change my mind on some of these books!
What you would read on a roadtrip?

InstaReview from fiction_head


InstaReview from fiction_head

Ravan & Eddie are #teenagers living in a chawl in #Bombay whose lives cross but briefly. Colonization, organized religion, inter caste affairs, breadwinner mothers–the #book has all the Indian tropes but the #story is a hilarious account of two children coming of age. Nagarkar is the wizard of the whimsical. His characters seem to be lending parts of their lives to him and not vice versa. And that for me is the mark of a brilliant writer.Rating:4/5#bookstagram #booksofinstagram #harpercollinsindia #ravanandeddie #bookreview #fictionhead

Procrastinator’s Pride: An Incomplete List Of Unfinished Books In My Shelf

Since yesterday, I can wax eloquent about Kiran Nagarkar’s Ravan and Eddie. Shamefully, it is my first Nagarkar read. Arguably his best work, (1.) Cuckold, was one of my gifts when I turned 25. And I turn 30 this year. A procrastinator’s pride, I have been meaning to read that book for half a decade!
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That’s how I thunk up this list. These are books I should have read MUCH earlier; I own copies of these, have read some of these, but haven’t completed them yet.
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I’ve had a copy of this Malayalam must-read for over 10 years now.
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I remember the first time I read the premise of this book. It was the summer of 2010, a period when i had all the time in the world to read. I was skulking around Blossoms hoping to meet “the rich man of my dreams” who would buy me as many books as I cared to read! Oh, for life’s simple needs! I ended up buying a lot of obscure books other than this one because they were cheaper.
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The year was 2007 and I was very excited about debut novels. Right up until I got myself a copy! Never got around to either of them.
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Of course there was a Marquez phase. The tragic end to that was marked by a thesis that exorcised the Marquez fetish. This book came to me right after the exorcism. I had no energy left for one more ecstasy. I read the first 20 pages from time to time but never again found the urge to finish it.
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I was in the eucalyptus stillness of the mountains. A chill rose among the plantations along with the potent smell of coffee. I remember I was reading Everything is Illuminated short on the heels of his other book, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close which was A-M-A-Z-I-N-G!! All I can say is the woods had me in their hold and a warm cup of freshly brewed coffee did me in!
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I don’t remember who introduced me to this one. I remember reading more than half way through this. And I remember it being very engaging. But then I did put it down.
Hmm, 8 is a good number, don’t you think? How about we make this a running list. I have a feeling I hide books I own but haven’t read, both from myself by double lining the bookshelves and from my conscience by not acknowledging them even when I see them. Watch this space for more in this list.

InstaReview from fiction_head


InstaReview from fiction_head

Helen Garner's The Spare Room is about the meaning of #friendship. Not to new and young friends but to older ones when one of them is terminal and #life seems finite. When Helen offers her spare room to Nicola, she doesn't know what's in store for her. #mustread for it makes you wonder what kind of #friend you would be when push came to shove.Rating: 3.5/5#fictionhead #bookstagram #bookreview #books

InstaReview from fiction_head


InstaReview from fiction_head

Fun home is a graphic novel about growing up and looking back at your childhood. In hindsight, you realize the depth of your bonding even with your dysfunctional family because they're all you've got. Time is clay in Bechdel's hands; she molds it effortlessly to fit her brooding narrative. #mustread for its wit and the skilled handling of childhood awkwardness and adolescent suffering! Rating: 4/5#comingofage #alisonbechdel #fictionhead #graphicnovel #bookreviews #bookstagram #funhome

Long Before There Were Names

1997 was not a particularly memorable year of what was my awkward childhood. However, a single memory stands out in all its pre-teen awkwardness. It was November, my birthday month. Being 11 still felt new against my skin.

It was a Children’s Day like none other. That year, 14 November fell on a Friday. And our Principal had had an English-medium brainwave!  What does one bunk school and do best on a Friday? Watch a movie, of course. And it was decided that the entire school would watch, not just any movie, but Star Wars Episode V — The Empire Strikes Back, which had just been rereleased. In our small town, as an upper primary kid, no one asked me for my opinion or interest. Things were decided, we were told and obeying came naturally to us.

That’s how the entire school landed up at Jos Theatre that Friday morning at 9:00 am. We were sorted into batches and filed into the huge standalone theatre, which little me thought seated well over a ‘thou—uuu—sand’ people because that was a huge number back then.

Days leading to this momentous event buzzed with excitement. S-E-X! That was the word my classroom was channeling. An English movie—most of us hadn’t watched one. The ones who had were all sniggering, chuckling, whispering or acting important. Of course you were a lost cause if you didn’t know English movies were all about sex. Thank god I knew that much! The collective intelligence of 11 year olds wondered what had gotten into the adults to take us to an English movie!

I wasn’t entirely sure what everyone was excited about. Of course it was uncool to admit that. Back then, I didn’t know what sex was. There, I said it! I believed that when men and women reached a certain age, they got married and babies were born as a result of them sleeping beside each other on the same bed. Years later, when I was told the unique fitting required to make a baby (why else would you have sex? We are Indians!), I was sure I was being misinformed. Goes without saying that it took me a lot more years to QED why sex is awesome.

Anyway, when Children’s Day finally dawned and I wore my brown box skirt, I had no idea this movie was going to change my life. Once we fell in line, began a long wait—of standing, shuffling, staring and inching to get all ‘1000’ of us, some too young to understand anything useful in English, seated. Two hours later, we were finally in the cool darkness of wilful suspension.

By then I was bored to tears. And then the movie began. I wasn’t sure I understood anything. I strained to catch all the accented English floating around, but to no avail. The most disturbing question for me was—what is sex in this? I was sure I understood all the actions the actors were performing. I was equally sure that I hadn’t missed anything. If I understood all the actions, it automatically meant that none of that was sex. So if all English movies were about sex, I had understood all actions and hadn’t missed anything then…things weren’t quite matching up. Asking my classmates for confirmation was out of the question. I didn’t want to be ‘that’ kid. I was beginning to get anxious.

The movie was over 2 hours of concentration, frustration, disappointment and confusion. Then it was over as abruptly as it started, and we were waiting for our journey back into the real world to begin. When we escaped that air-conditioned cocoon, I was supposed to become a butterfly, colourful in my knowledge of what sex was. But my mind was still racing to find the answer.

And I did. In the 25 steps of madness from the theatre to its gate, where our school uniforms ran into the ocean of movie-goers, I became a woman; in the most practical sense of the word.

A hand broke the cover of my skirt and reached firmly into me. That unfaltering finger knew where it was going and what it was doing, though I didn’t. It was crowded. Anyway, why would anyone want to touch where I pee?

I turned around to look behind me. I expected someone to be smiling or waving or looking embarrassed — basically acknowledging the act. Well, that’s how young I was. When nobody owned up, I went back to wading through the humanity.

There it was – the hand … in and out and … again.

This time I was sure someone I knew was playing with me. So I didn’t react immediately. I waited for it to happen again. There …  and … just missed. I couldn’t place the prankster.

I tried that stunt twice more. There … again.

By now we were in the middle of this quicksand of people. I was a child who happened to be a girl and not a girl who happened to be a child. And that’s when innocence left me. I didn’t know what ‘this’ was called but I knew ‘this’ was intentional.

Should I call out to Amma to check what ‘this’ is? In that rush … can’t it wait? I can see that she is trying her best to get me out of here. Shouldn’t I behave and tell her once we are back home? There it was again.

In those 7 minutes it took us to get to the front gate, everything changed. I, who knew nothing about sex a couple of minutes back — even after watching an “English” movie — suddenly knew what violation felt like, long before that word joined my vocabulary. Long before there were names, I knew who and what to protect my sex-less body from, but not why. I knew I didn’t want anyone making me feel as confused as I felt that day.

Those minutes slowed into hours over the years, as I began processing that event. All the way into my late 20s, I continued to ask myself — what should I have done that day? Deep in my consciousness, I know the answer; no 11 year old should have to know.

InstaReview from fiction_head


InstaReview from fiction_head

Favbook #3: In One Person by John Irving is about the life of a #bisexual boy; someone i'll never be. But Irving let me into Billy's life and taught me #empathy; and for that i'll be forever grateful! Thanks @sanjanaj for the the reco!#fictionhead #johnirving #bookstagram #books #mustread #inoneperson #favouritebook