The God of Small Things is the debut novel of Indian writer Arundhati Roy. It is a story about the childhood experiences of fraternal twins whose lives are destroyed by the "Love Laws" that lay down "who should be loved, and how. And how much." The book explores how the small things affect people's behavior and their lives. The book also reflects its irony against casteism, which is a major discrimination that prevails in India. It won the Booker Prize in 1997. The God of Small Things was Roy's first book and only novel until the 2017 publication of The Ministry of Utmost Happiness twenty years later. She began writing the manuscript for The God of Small Things in 1992 and finished four years later, in 1996. It was published the following year. The potential of the story was first recognized by Pankaj Mishra, an editor with HarperCollins, who sent …
The God of Small Things is the debut novel of Indian writer Arundhati Roy. It is a story about the childhood experiences of fraternal twins whose lives are destroyed by the "Love Laws" that lay down "who should be loved, and how. And how much." The book explores how the small things affect people's behavior and their lives. The book also reflects its irony against casteism, which is a major discrimination that prevails in India. It won the Booker Prize in 1997. The God of Small Things was Roy's first book and only novel until the 2017 publication of The Ministry of Utmost Happiness twenty years later. She began writing the manuscript for The God of Small Things in 1992 and finished four years later, in 1996. It was published the following year. The potential of the story was first recognized by Pankaj Mishra, an editor with HarperCollins, who sent it to three British publishers. Roy received £500,000 in advance and rights to the book were sold in 21 countries.
Tätä kirjaa oli aika uuvuttava lukea. Ensimmäiset kaksi ja puoli sataa sivua tuntuivat aika sekavilta ja tapahtumat irrallisilta, kerrontatyyli oli minusta ärsyttävä, ja vasta viimeisen sadan sivun aikana koko tarinaan tuli jotain tolkkua. Mutta kyllä sitten, kun loppuun asti sai punnerrettua, tästä muodostui melko voimakas kertomus eteläintialaisen yhteiskunnan jännitteistä.
Amazing.
Short but intense book, with lots to say about caste, class and family.
It was a powerful read but I honestly am not sure if I can say I liked it. It is disturbing and confronting. It is also extremely well structured, I will probably need to sit with it for a while.
Kerala and nearly all of the characters expand into three dimensions in a story that weaves between past and present and addresses class and patriarchal structures, colonialism, family dysfunction. It's cluttered however with poetic turns of phrase that founder and repeat and grow overshadowly wearisome.
Abandoned, at 24%. This is not good for my 2021 reading challenge: I'm already two books behind. If I were younger I might slog through... but now, with fewer moments left in my life, I choose to enjoy those moments more — and I am not enjoying this book. At all. Disjointed the timeline is, confusingly so. The characters (so far) only superficially drawn: no depth nor feeling, except for (the author's) heavyhanded scorn toward the Bitter Spinster and the Drunken Ex-Husband. The prose, awkwardly florid at times. (Lovely at times, too, but not enough of a balance for me).
Beautifully written, painting a vivid picture of a place and time, and dealing with a culture and subjects I knew little about. I struggled with the non-linear timeline though. Perhaps I’d got used to it by the time I reached the conclusion, but the latter half of the book felt stronger.
A book I’m glad to have read, which will stay with me for some time.
Damn, what a book
I cannot say I liked this book. It's great, but it's also awful, and I feel like it will take a while to wash it off of me. It describes ugly things as if they were beautiful and beautiful things as if they were ugly.
Also, I think it hit closer to home than I would have liked and much closer than it should have.
I cannot possibly rate this book.
A stunning tale, full of light and darkness, poetry and playfulness, big and small things. Arundhati Roy has a way with words that is unique, and speaks both to the hearts and minds of her readers.
Some great writing, most particularly in the tension of some passages and in the use of repeated phrases to highlight affect, but the pessimism can be grating. The narrative of loss, social difference, and the struggles of one family in the archaic Indian caste system is set up to be a story for all class struggle, but is overly sentimental throughout.
This book broke my heart.
I had been reading a lot of Hemingway and I sort of wanted a break from That Style; I definitely got it with this book. Roy's writing is breathtaking. To steal a sentiment from another review I just read, she puts words together in ways that should make no sense at all but flawlessly evoke the sense of being there. It reminds me of Tonguecat or The Sound and the Fury a bit in that regard. The story is dark and sad and horrible, which I resented at times, but ultimately I forgive it for its astonishing beauty. Also, something I don't see other reviews pointing out: this book is funny! Am I the only one who took that from it? While the dominant notes are certainly pretty dismal, the children are still children and Roy shows us how they play with words and think about what the worlds …
I had been reading a lot of Hemingway and I sort of wanted a break from That Style; I definitely got it with this book. Roy's writing is breathtaking. To steal a sentiment from another review I just read, she puts words together in ways that should make no sense at all but flawlessly evoke the sense of being there. It reminds me of Tonguecat or The Sound and the Fury a bit in that regard. The story is dark and sad and horrible, which I resented at times, but ultimately I forgive it for its astonishing beauty. Also, something I don't see other reviews pointing out: this book is funny! Am I the only one who took that from it? While the dominant notes are certainly pretty dismal, the children are still children and Roy shows us how they play with words and think about what the worlds shows them in completely ordinary childlike, hilarious ways.
She just writes gorgeous prose.
A pair of actors trapped in a recondite play with no hint of plot or narrative. Stumbling through their parts, nursing someone else's sorrow. Grieving someone else's grief.
Unable, somehow, to change plays. Or purchase, for a fee, some cheap brand of exorcism from a counselor with a fancy degree, who would sit them down and say, in one of many ways: "You're not the Sinners. You're the Sinned Against. You were only children. You had no control. You are the victims, not the perpetrators."
Rahel and Esthappen are siblings, Rahel a little girl, Estha her brother. They are bright, imaginative children. They are two-egg twins, but sometimes they are Mrs. Eapen and Mrs. Rajagopalan, or Ambassador E. Pelvis (with a puff) and Ambassador S. Insect. A boy in his beige and pointy shoes and his Elvis puff, a little fairy in her airport frock with matching bloomers. A puff …
A pair of actors trapped in a recondite play with no hint of plot or narrative. Stumbling through their parts, nursing someone else's sorrow. Grieving someone else's grief.
Unable, somehow, to change plays. Or purchase, for a fee, some cheap brand of exorcism from a counselor with a fancy degree, who would sit them down and say, in one of many ways: "You're not the Sinners. You're the Sinned Against. You were only children. You had no control. You are the victims, not the perpetrators."
Rahel and Esthappen are siblings, Rahel a little girl, Estha her brother. They are bright, imaginative children. They are two-egg twins, but sometimes they are Mrs. Eapen and Mrs. Rajagopalan, or Ambassador E. Pelvis (with a puff) and Ambassador S. Insect. A boy in his beige and pointy shoes and his Elvis puff, a little fairy in her airport frock with matching bloomers. A puff and a fountain in a love-in-Tokyo (which I believe is a long name for those little black rubber bands with two beads on the end that lots of us used to make pony tails, back in the 70's)(But I digress).
There are two very different tragedies in this story that come together and ruin the happy lives of Rahel, Esthappen, and Ammu, their mother, and a special man named Velutha. The adult world, with its infinite bigotry and violence, blames and punishes them all. Ammu, a divorcee who has returned with her children to her family's village, is already not very welcome, but then she has a secret affair with Velutha, who is from a lower caste. They break The Love Laws, which define who is to be loved, how, and how much, and they pay the highest price. Rahel and Estha are not spared the trauma, especially Estha; in another stroke of random unfairness, he experiences and witnesses more that Rahel does, and is made to feel very much to blame.
Arundhati Roy tells this story in a way that reminds me of water circling round a drain before rushing downward; the narrative moves back and forth in time and tells everyone's stories before the reader is given the details of the inevitable ending. It did take me some time to really get involved with the story, since the names, family relationships, and time-shifting style took some getting used to. In the end, though, I was awed by the writing and the story, and would highly recommend it to anyone.
The God of Small Things, By Arundhati Roy, copyright 1997, HarperCollins. 321 pgs. Winner of The Booker Prize, 1997
lifted from page 182.
It's a very interesting book. It's deep, there's so much in this book, it's full of lovely prose and it takes you on a long and amazing journey. more
