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spinstah's review against another edition
3.0
This grew on me - it's the story of three people from different social circles whose lives happen intersect, and how they're all affected by a murder. At first I wasn't sure if I would like it - the novel starts out in a Hollywood-type atmosphere, with famous rich people being as witty and scandalous as possible. But once you get past that opening, the main characters are interesting people, and I was drawn into the story. All of the characters go through some major changes in their lives, and we see this happen over a period of a few years. There are also some wonderful descriptions of Bombay, which is a character in and of itself.
nuts246's review against another edition
4.0
The book started off with promise, with the central character looking at the city of Bombay through his lens exactly the way I had looked at the city that once captured my mind. The relationships feel into place too conveniently, but they often do in real life too. Loved part I.
Then the book came apart. Part II felt like re-reading news and tabloid magazines from the 1980s and 1990s. The prose lacked appeal.
Part III onwards, the book went on autopilot. There were flashes of tenderness, and moments that made you think, but for the most part, the fizz had escaped from the soda bottle.
Pick it up if you love the city of Bombay/ Mumbai, but do not go into it with too many expectations. Then, you will not be disappointed.
Then the book came apart. Part II felt like re-reading news and tabloid magazines from the 1980s and 1990s. The prose lacked appeal.
Part III onwards, the book went on autopilot. There were flashes of tenderness, and moments that made you think, but for the most part, the fizz had escaped from the soda bottle.
Pick it up if you love the city of Bombay/ Mumbai, but do not go into it with too many expectations. Then, you will not be disappointed.
devm108's review against another edition
4.0
A book about typical Bombay dreams, passion, love, art, loss, betrayal, nostalgia, sad memories, happy memories, kind people, bad people, and falling in and out of sense. I expected something more engrossing, something more deeply rotted to the spirit of Bombay and not just about its reference in the book as a place where all major characters lived and all major incidents took place. I also expected a different read, atleast a bit more interesting one, and not just a simple ‘love, crime, betrayal, loss’ plot. But, I absolutely love the way Sidhanth portrays his characters in a language so poetic and deeply imaginative, painted with all sorts of lively colors that all words, and all stories become fun to read and live with.
siria's review against another edition
1.0
I couldn't manage to finish this book. The prose is terrible, full of sexual metaphors so appallingly awful that it seemed as if the book had been written by an immature 12 year old desperate for attention. Feeling wary after the first chapter, I flipped forward through the book to find: "Glee dripped out of Natasha like precum"; "smugness blasted out of her face like a fart”; “Priya had a crusty librarian’s voice, one that could only be relieved by a dildo." All are phrases that certainly got my attention, but only by pointing towards the author's lack of talent, sexism, and transphobia (there's a line about a drag queen that just... ugh). Avoid.
amerikanerin's review against another edition
4.0
Dark ending, but beautiful descriptions of Bombay.
unabridgedchick's review against another edition
3.0
Do I like the cover?: Not really. It feels like a throwaway. As Karan's photography is the focus of the novel, I would have loved a black and white photo of Bombay instead.
Review: This novel is a bit like a tabloid-tell-all, set in Bombay, and I mean that in the best way. A reclusive pianist, a Bollywood star, a repressed artist, a Nick Carraway-ish photographer: the cast is appropriately superficial and self-destructive and yet, as we -- and Karan Seth, the outsider-turned-insider -- discover, there's depth and passion and fear.
I wasn't sure what I was getting into as the jacket blurb is fairly vague (but mentions Fitzgerald, which caught my interest). There is a sort of Fitzgerald feel to the novel -- the glitzy tragedy of those who invite heartbreak and disaster -- but Shanghvi managed to make (most) of the characters real enough that I still felt for them. A kind of frenetic sadness infuses the story, which is part bildungsroman, part crime thriller, part celebrity expose.
There's a real crudity in the writing but I found it emphasized the frenzy of celebrity, the repressed sexual nature of the characters and the world they lived in. Sensitive readers will likely be turned off by the language and at times it felt nearly misogynistic but isn't entirely out-of-place given the tone of the novel.
Whereas Shanghvi's narrative prose had me in swoons, I found his dialogue stiff, stilted, and unbelievable. I think the attempt was to make the characters sound superficial but it read, for me, inauthentic and archaic. (Shanghvi has the characters using some very odd, dated slang and I kept flipping to the front of the book to see if this was a problem with translation.) Honestly, it felt like two different people were at work in this book.
At times, the novel felt a little long: enormous day-to-day detail around some events and then a leap of four years or ten years. The expansion and growth of the characters was appealing, but for me, the story would have had more oomph if it stopped sooner. In this case, the pathetic ends weren't poignant or moving, but simply sad, draining the tension that had been so deliciously built up.
Review: This novel is a bit like a tabloid-tell-all, set in Bombay, and I mean that in the best way. A reclusive pianist, a Bollywood star, a repressed artist, a Nick Carraway-ish photographer: the cast is appropriately superficial and self-destructive and yet, as we -- and Karan Seth, the outsider-turned-insider -- discover, there's depth and passion and fear.
I wasn't sure what I was getting into as the jacket blurb is fairly vague (but mentions Fitzgerald, which caught my interest). There is a sort of Fitzgerald feel to the novel -- the glitzy tragedy of those who invite heartbreak and disaster -- but Shanghvi managed to make (most) of the characters real enough that I still felt for them. A kind of frenetic sadness infuses the story, which is part bildungsroman, part crime thriller, part celebrity expose.
There's a real crudity in the writing but I found it emphasized the frenzy of celebrity, the repressed sexual nature of the characters and the world they lived in. Sensitive readers will likely be turned off by the language and at times it felt nearly misogynistic but isn't entirely out-of-place given the tone of the novel.
Whereas Shanghvi's narrative prose had me in swoons, I found his dialogue stiff, stilted, and unbelievable. I think the attempt was to make the characters sound superficial but it read, for me, inauthentic and archaic. (Shanghvi has the characters using some very odd, dated slang and I kept flipping to the front of the book to see if this was a problem with translation.) Honestly, it felt like two different people were at work in this book.
At times, the novel felt a little long: enormous day-to-day detail around some events and then a leap of four years or ten years. The expansion and growth of the characters was appealing, but for me, the story would have had more oomph if it stopped sooner. In this case, the pathetic ends weren't poignant or moving, but simply sad, draining the tension that had been so deliciously built up.
arrrgh_schooling's review against another edition
1.0
I just couldn't finish this book. I wish I could have enjoyed it as I love reading about that part of the world. But the author's writing was just horrible--some of the descriptions and metaphors were just disgusting. I'm not a prude, but come on. Why is it necessary for EVERYTHING to be sexual?
boaroboros's review
5.0
I received this book a long time ago (for free from GoodReads First Reads), or at least what seems like a long time ago (about 4 years). When I first tried to read I was in the tail end of one of my great readings (a period in my life where for some period of time I read in abundance, to then not read for some time in any significant amount). I read the first three chapters (my bookmark was still there when I started to read it again) and I thought the prose was terrible. Not untalented but horrendously pretentious and a little matter-of-fact. When I began my second go at book I still found it really quite pretentious (a step-down from horrendously) for the first few chapters and quite honestly still don't think the first tenth of the book was very good. As thing progressed and I got past feeling like I was reading the screenplay to a self-important art film I realized that Shanghvi could really write a character and he knows how to make you give a shit. Although the book is pox-marked with some awful metaphors and ridiculous happens it also it littered with insightful thoughts on life, friendship, and love (some beautiful enough to make this young cynic cry) and some damn good prose once he gets into it. So, although the book has its flaws, taken as a whole its fucking fantastic.
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