Sometimes ya just gotta share..


Ever start reading a book that is so good that you want to bring it up in every conversation you have?

Waiter: Can I get you some dessert? Coffee? Tea?

Police officer: You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used agai…

Not even at page 100 and Shantaram is already one of those books. A passage:

“if you’re not having objections, I will call you Lin.”

I peered down into Prabaker’s round face and his large, dark, mischievious eyes, and I nodded, smiled and accepted the name. I couldn’t know then, that the little Bombay street guide had given me a name thousands of people, from Colaba to Kandahar, from Kinshasa to Berlin, would come to know me by. Fate needs accomplices, and the stones in destiny’s walls are mortared with small and heedless complicities such as those. I look back, now, and I know that the naming moment, which seemed so insignificant then, which seemed to demand no more than an arbitrary and superstitious yes or no, was in fact a pivotal moment in my life. The role I played under that name, and the character I became — Linbaba — was more real, and true to my nature, than anyone or anything that I ever was before it.

At 900 pages it does, however, suffer from one of my pet peeves. .. though I make exceptions for really good fiction.



One Response to “Sometimes ya just gotta share..”

  1. Molly Says:

    Well, Shantaram is damn entertaining, but somewhere in those 900 pages it veers from melodramatic philosophy into plain old ridiculousness.

    The inevitable sex scene is the best example. As he writes:

    “My body was her chariot, and she drove it into the sun. Her body was my river, and I became the sea. And the wailing moan that drove our lips together, at the end, was the world of hope and sorrow that ecstasy wrings from lovers as it floods their souls with bliss.”

    Really? Really??

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