It's ten-to-two.
It's ten-to-two on Rahel's painted watch.
It’s ten-to-two on Rahel’s painted watch which lies under the revolved earth of The History House in the Heart of the Darkness.
It’ll be always ten-to-two on the stillness of Roy’s book as the derailed freight train of her story slams into our hearts.
It’ll be always ten-to-two when Sorrow, Pain, Unrequited Love, Too Much Love, and Unbearable, yet Understandable, Truths of Life collapse from their wagons and bury us all under them;
It’ll be always ten-to-two as the train’s sharp wheels scar our souls as deep as the ugly scars on Mammachi’s head, her blind soul carefully hidden by the gray hair and they will be there forever, for us to carry.
Ours will be beautiful scars.
Scars… Healed scars. Scars healed by Unbearable Forbidden Necessary Cleaning Love, which will always be able to follow the Music escaping from a tangerine radio as it floats in the Air.
The Still Air of Life.
The Air of Roy’s story is filled with the haunting Truths of Life, so heavy to carry, they need to be shared, breathed by the twins, Esthappen, the boy-man, and Rahel, the girl-woman, as One. They are so horrible to be spoken of, that Rahel’s eyes becomes empty, empty with everything and Estha stops speaking, speaking with all. Inside.
But the Truths of Life leak as Mammachi’s Pickles’ bottles have leaked, impossible to be tamed into perfection, silent as a mute shriek of grief, imperceptible as a light cutting deep into darkness.
As History evolves and revolves as the round World we live in, the skyblue old Plymouth, with its painted rack falling apart, thunders the careening story of Life and Death.
Life and Death. Love and Hate. Angels and Demons. Humans and Beasts. Happiness and Rules. The Big Things and The Small Things, which in a reversal of their inherent nature belonged to the Small light God, who sweeps clean his steps as he walks backward, and the Big powerful God (god?), who stomps into the House with his dirty, muddied boots.
Roy leads us past glass of pickles and jellies of Paradise Pickles & Preserves, the factory; past The Sound of Music, the film; and past childhood, marriage, madness, pedophilia, poverty, violence, injustice and betrayal. And love, so much love.
With no mercy, she tows us past the lost, hidden beauties and still there horrors of India; past confused Indians, immersed in caste hierarchy and lost in the war between British Imperialism and Karl Marx Communism; forced Evangelism; past Elvis Presley, Oxford, Coca-Cola, American TV shows and London life; all preferred, favorites in spite of the unique, laid-to-waste-in-twenty-minutes Kathakali dance.
And she dresses us in saris of intolerance sewed carefully by single, married and widowed women and she gives us the painted masks of their unavailable, chauvinist kinsmen.
For us, she disrobes the once-one turned-lonely children and two couples of forbidden lovers - who had already been bared, robbed… Loved less… The four of them The Gods of Small Things.
And she makes us watch the Terror and the Love.
I read this in two seatings only because I had to get a couple of hours’ sleep. I was frozen in my armchair, fossilized in time by the unjustified justice of my few smiles and many tears; nerves uncapped, shaking, almost hiding, as I saw many of my thoughts being SHOUTED OUT LOUD at me, from me.
Will I read it again? Yes. Later. (Lay. Ter.)
Now, I need a moment. Of quiet emptiness.
To rage.
Et tu, English, Indians, Christians, Syrian Christians, Hindus, Pelaya, Pulaya, Paravan, Touchables and Untouchables, Lower Middle Upper Classes, No Classes, all-and-yet-never Comrades! Who saw and looked away!
Et tu, Sophie Mol! The unfortunate English child killed-killer of the simple happiness of Rahel's and Estha’s childhood, the two-egg twin that was only One.
Et tu, Pappachi, the Imperial Entomologist, domestic abuser, proud and full of cruel, ugly moths; Mammachi, the almost-blind beaten-wife and example of Christian beatitude; Vellya Paapen, the one with a mortgaged glass eye and the real blind one; Baby grand aunt Kochamma, the gullible girl turned bitter-sour, with her perfect Per-Nun-Ciation and unfair, hasty judgements and psychologic torture! Who played alone-along their parts, ignorantly not knowing life was no rehearsal!
Et tu, poor Rahel and Estha! Children so loved less, from the Beginning until the End, the only one, forever un-living-dead bearers’ of short sad lives and long alive deaths, who didn't know how to do otherwise.
Et tu, All-of-Us! Who are rehearsing the Play and making Black Holes in the Universe, while out-of-our-minds, we count our Keys, looking into the void-avoiding the smelly injustice being distributed!
What it worth it? The price to pay for a forbidden love?
Yes. Maybe. I don’t know.
I will need to read it again. Later.
Now, I need a moment. Of empty quietness.
To Praise.
To Love.
But no words of mine would do justice to Roy’s work of art, so leave me here, hurting and loving, stabbed in the back by my own hand with the Truths of my your our Life, accepting a bit more of myself you this world, and read this real, poetic, sad, grand, too-small-to-be-contained Book.
And the Kathakali dancers danced and their drummers drummed, to ask pardon of their Gods, as we also should do for the daily, unconscious murder of our Gods of Small Things.
While it’s ten-to-two.
Before it’s too late…
———————————————————————
In the light of my last review of another book, where I closed its ebook covers at 20% because of typos, missing commas, too-many-grand-long-forgotten words and foreign mottos written wrongly, loose-lost opinions about historical facts, and over-the-top “'pumpkin bums’ descriptions of nothing-happening-to-many-characters-that-had-nothing-to-do-with-any-one”, I think that to be fair to those who read my reviews, I owe an explanation to my 5 star rating for ‘The God of Small Things’.
Roy took me through the creation and death of an ornamental garden; made me sat in a church filled with ants, a baby bat and a dead child.
I traveled in a bluesky Plymouth on a road full of frog stains while she uses foreign words, many half-full sentences, repeated ideas and (over-the-top, some will say) analogies. I consulted the dictionary more than a couple of times, as English is not my mother language and she uses words I was not familiar with (Probably, I would have to consult the Portuguese dictionary too).
She made me wait, as a pregnant woman waits, as I read story upon story of many different characters, who seemed to have nothing to do with Rahel and Estha or anyone else, but were all linked somehow by society and social relationships.
Yes, this book could have been smaller, but it could have been bigger. But if it were different, then it wouldn’t be ‘The God of Small Things’.
I didn’t closed the book at 20% and I rated her work 5 stars.
Why?
Because.
Because there are books and books; authors and authors.
Because I don’t care if another author has used a style before Roy used it. I don’t care if there is another author who does it better than she did it. What readers and reviewers sometimes don’t understand is that gifted authors are often gifted-avid-readers, with screaming souls begging to be set free; who drown in the works they have read and let them soak in and soothe their pains. These authors are allowed to use all the styles as their own, without being accused of stealing them, as I’ve seen a few reviewers raging about. And I tell you that as an avid reader with a newly-freed author’s soul, hoping to be one day as gifted as Roy.
Because what I care is that, in Roy’s work, there are magical, complex, centuries of old-untold relationships to be read about, learned and admired, in the middle of the marvel unseemly-going-nowhere descriptions of a ripple fruit bursting and an orange sun setting.
Because Roy’s Universe is raw and rough, a few times sweet, filled with her beautiful, sharp-edged opinions - that some may think prejudiced - but are historically based and lived. She tells us an Indian story that could have been a Brazilian story. My story. Your story.
Because what I care is that, without asking my permission, Roy took my soul and gave it back; Sadder for a moment, but more knowledgeable and fuller of passion.
Because this is not a book for everyone, but for those who live life on its full, and are grateful for the possibility that, even being of die-able age, they are still alive; for those who are interested in relationships and its octopus sucking tentacles; for those who are mindful of how cruel the world can be and yet are able to see the beauty of a sunset and a strict forbidden incest love told in poetical, not-rhymed words; for those who can stand up for others in need.
For those who love.
“Because Anything can Happen to Anyone.
It’s Best to be Prepared.”
Arundhati Roy, in The God of Small Things
———————————————————————
P.S. 1 - If in your ebook you stumble upon lost inverted commas, dizzy dashes and en-dashes, overlook them. They are just simple typos - perhaps there on purpose, who knows?
This book is like a child or a loved-lover, who should never be loved less, for his perchance carelessness, because it belongs to the Universe of Rippling Truths of Life.
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It is curious how sometimes the memory of death lives on for so much longer than the memory of the life that it purloined.Highlighted by 2,258 Kindle readers- And the Air was full of Thoughts and Things to Say. But at times like these, only the Small Things are ever said. The Big Things lurk unsaid inside.Highlighted by 1,795 Kindle readers
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About the author
Top reviews from other countries
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- PowerbooostReviewed in India on June 21, 2024
A Rare and Gripping Masterpiece - Excellent Quality and Fast Delivery
Arundhati Roy's "The God of Small Things" is a literary masterpiece that is as rare as it is gripping. From the moment I picked up this book, I was captivated by Roy's intricate storytelling and the profound depth of her characters. It's no wonder this novel won the Booker Prize, and my journey through the works of Indian Booker Prize winners feels especially rewarding with this gem in my collection.A Rare and Gripping Masterpiece - Excellent Quality and Fast DeliveryPowerbooost
Reviewed in India on June 21, 2024
Book Quality:
The quality of this book is outstanding. It arrived in perfect condition, with a sturdy cover and crisp, clean pages. The print is clear and easy to read, making for a comfortable reading experience. Additionally, the book came with a transparency scanner to check its authenticity, giving me peace of mind that I had received an original copy. This attention to detail in ensuring the authenticity of the book is much appreciated.
Timely Delivery:
I was incredibly impressed with the delivery speed. I received the book within just 4 hours of placing my order. This prompt service is commendable and added to my overall satisfaction with the purchase. Knowing I could start reading this highly anticipated novel almost immediately was a delightful surprise.
Story and Writing:
Set in the lush landscape of Kerala, India, the novel delicately weaves together the lives of its characters with a narrative that oscillates between the past and the present. Roy’s prose is both lyrical and precise, painting vivid pictures of the socio-political landscape while delving deep into the emotional and psychological realms of the protagonists. The story of Estha and Rahel, the tragic events of their childhood, and the enduring effects on their lives are depicted with a poignancy that is both heartbreaking and beautiful.
One of the novel’s greatest strengths lies in its attention to the “small things” – the seemingly insignificant moments and details that cumulatively shape the lives of the characters. Roy’s ability to highlight these nuances makes the narrative incredibly rich and textured. Her exploration of themes such as forbidden love, family secrets, and societal norms is handled with such finesse that it leaves a lasting impression.
The structure of the novel, with its non-linear timeline and shifts in perspective, might be challenging for some readers, but it is precisely this complexity that makes the book so engaging. Each chapter adds a new layer to the story, gradually revealing the full picture in a way that is both satisfying and thought-provoking.
In conclusion, "The God of Small Things" is a book that demands to be read and re-read, each time offering new insights and emotions. It is a rare work of fiction that combines a compelling narrative with exquisite writing. If you are on a journey to explore works by Indian Booker Prize winners, this novel is an absolute must-read. Arundhati Roy has crafted a masterpiece in the truest sense, and it’s a book that will stay with you long after you’ve turned the last page. Highly recommended!
Overall Experience:
My overall experience with this purchase has been excellent. From the superb quality of the book to the incredibly fast delivery, I couldn't be happier. This level of service and product quality makes me confident in continuing my literary journey with similar purchases in the future.
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