Kiran Nagarkar

“The small causes court sits on Thursdays. When Father’s away I preside.”

The matter-of-fact manner in which the novel opens plunges you straight into the Court of Mewar. You are swiftly drawn into the battles, the intrigues, the history, the culture of 16th Century Mewar, and you turn page after page, like a thirsty desert traveller trying to quench his thirst.

The narrator of the novel is the Maharaj Kumar of Mewar. A man who is a bundle of contradictions, who contains multitudes, who wins battles using unorthodox ways, whose marital life is most unconventional, who can lose himself in music or the meticulous planning of a tunnel system under the guise of sewerage. Wary of friends and foes, longing for the love of a saint-wife who is at once mendacious and a passionate lover of the Blue One, lover of justice and loyalty, heir-apparent the Maharaj is under constant threat from inside and outside. Kiran Nagarkar weaves a complete masterpiece, a tour de force that is mesmerising in its sweep.

He paints Rajasthan in broad strokes, and in miniature detail all at once, taking you to a completely different world in a completely familiar way. When the Maharaj Kumar talks, you listen. He holds your complete attention. The novel is so well balanced: no long boring passages, no meandering chapters. Everything is as it should be, perfectly positioned and perfectly weighted.

What I particularly liked was that the Indian words were used so naturally (and without italics), and the “contemporary idiom” which gave the book the “immediacy” that the author says he was striving for.

When I begin to read a book, I get so involved that the outside world becomes a blur, an interrupting nuisance. This book made me an absolute grump - I could simply not extricate my mind from the colourful tapestries of Mewar that the author had woven so skillfully. I was transported to a world that was endlessly fascinating.

This is an absolute relief from hackneyed themes and clichés; without doubt, this is one of the best books I’ve read.

Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman

Review by Anitha Murthy

I have this habit of reading forewords and prefaces and everything else that comes before the actual story begins. The first page of this book had notes about the authors. When I read that Terry Pratchett “likes people to buy him banana daiquiris (he knows that people don’t read author biographies, but feels this might be worth a try)”, I was favourably disposed towards the book. Similar nuggets about Neil Gaiman (who prefers money, if you’re interested), made me instantly develop a warm affection for the book

If you’re a person who takes the Apocalypse and Armageddon and religion very seriously, this book is definitely not for you. If however, you’re a Douglas Adams fan kind of person, then hey, join the club of readers who have been advised not to read this book in bed for fear they will awaken their spouse with the guffaws. I had to interrupt my own reading several times to read aloud to my spouse. It is utterly selfish and rude not to share the hilarity.

When a chattering (Satanist) nun makes a mistake while switching babies in order to place the baby Antichrist, all Hell does not immediately follow. It takes time for Crowley (An Angel who did not so much Fall as Saunter Vaguely Downwards) and Aziraphale (An angel, and part-time rare-book dealer) to track the young Antichrist, Adam Young, who unfortunately, is the epitome of humanity or human-ness. Add to this Anathema, the last living descendant of the witch Agnes Nutter – author of the amazingly accurate book: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter. And Newt (Wages Clerk and Witchfinder Private) whose weapon of witch detection is a pin, amongst other things. You have the Four Horsemen (DEATH, War - as a drop-dead gorgeous redhead, Pollution, and Famine) riding bikes, and wearing jackets on which Hell’s Angels is emblazoned.