Description
This novel is absorbing and convincingly introspective. The action is internal and microcosmic. The microcosm that the author creates is of course a reflection of the greater macrocosm. On one level, the settings are wonderfully, graphically, brought to life. On another level, they are almost irrelevant. The environment is almost incidental. It is an internal novel, which asks the big questions: Why? Who? But it does not answer them. No one can. But to pose the questions, at least, gives the reader a chance to find their own answers, or, indeed, their own set of questions. It is a substantial novel. It covers a lot of ground, and the author gives himself enough room for the development of the characters and situations. The tone is mordant and reflective. There are some pleasingly deceptive undertones that refresh the writing and build the novel. There is also a suspicion of humor throughout. Although the novel is fictional (all novels are both autobiography and lies, said Graham Greene), there is a reality beneath the surface that comes through. It fulfils the essential function of creating in the reader the “willing suspension of disbelief†, and with enabling him or her to identify with the protagonists, particularly with Sen and Dolund. If one wanted to categorize the book, one could perhaps define it as a post modernist novel, which also, incidentally, gives a wonderfully rich picture of certain levels of the Indian experience.
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