It’s been less than forty-eight hours since I finished this book, and the impression it made on me has already faded. It was lovely while it lasted, I’m sure, though a little slow, but why even bother to read something whose essence flees so suddenly after it is finished? I shut the covers, and bam! I forgot the main character’s name. (Okay, so I lied: the book focuses on the sisters Bim and Tara, and their brother Raja, and their brother Babu, and Tara’s ambassador husband Bakul. I had to look that last one up.) While it’s a nice little story—a blend between their childhood and their present, the attempt to come to terms with their very different present lives, and to heal the wounds of the past—for some reason it didn’t click with me. Meh. It looks like I’m just having bad luck with the Desais this month; maybe I should transfer to reading Singhs. Or Patels. Or Iyers. Or maybe even a Gandhi!
(I get the feeling Nehru would be boring.)
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