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cheese_cheese's review against another edition
2.25
No doubt witty, enlightening, and for sure an outlook on contemporary India as per Adiga’s writing, but it all ends up to be just tremendously depressing. I am not fond of comparing his debut novel to any of his recent works as any book deserves to be a standalone when reviewed, but where The White Tiger succeeds in giving the reader a sense of satisfaction as the ‘underdog’ finally gains a sense of control and autonomy, Selection Day fails, and is instead an experience akin to seeing a malnourished puppy getting kicked on the street.
Outlining the story of Manju, a teenager navigating societal expectations, a sexuality crisis, a cricket-obsessed tiger dad, and a gained simultaneous annoyance and attraction to a guy on his cricket team, the expected compassion and nuance attributed to such a heart-wrenching set of circumstances is simply not there. Adiga’s hard-hitting and gritty prose is ever-present indeed, and yet in the unsympathetic manipulation of the narrative it is as if nothing ever goes right for Manju--which is not really a bad thing, but the thesis of this book slowly devolves into something ambiguous as it takes a turn into repressed Achillean suffering.
The time-skip at the end gives me a feeling reminiscent of an uncle retelling that one moment in secondary school that jumpstarted his identity crisis after he had one too many.
Realistic? Sure. Enjoyable? Debatable. Beautifully written, but bleak. Also, misogyny.
jarichan's review against another edition
3.0
Eigentlich gefallen mir die Bücher von Aravind Adiga. Nur mit diesem hier hatte ich Mühe. Vielleicht liegt es daran, dass ich von Cricket so absolut keine Ahnung habe? Vielleicht, wer weiss. Auf jeden Fall wurden das Buch und ich nicht wirklich warm miteinander.
Erst mit Auftauchen Javeds wurde die Geschichte ein wenig interessanter und gewann etwas an Tempo. Eigentlich wären auch die Beziehungen zwischen den Brüdern und auch zum Vater interessant gewesen, auch die Beziehung der Gesellschaft zum Sport... Es gab jede Menge Themen, die einen hätten packen können.
Aber die Masse der Probleme und Konflikte hat dem Potential, das dieser Idee innewohnte, den Garaus gemacht. Hätte Adiga sich auf ein oder zwei Themengebiete konzentriert - es hätte etwas werden können. So ist es aber schlussendlich ein überladenes Buch ohne Zug geworden.
Drei Sterne für gute Beschreibungen der heutigen indischen Gesellschaft und ihrer Gefahrenzonen.
Erst mit Auftauchen Javeds wurde die Geschichte ein wenig interessanter und gewann etwas an Tempo. Eigentlich wären auch die Beziehungen zwischen den Brüdern und auch zum Vater interessant gewesen, auch die Beziehung der Gesellschaft zum Sport... Es gab jede Menge Themen, die einen hätten packen können.
Aber die Masse der Probleme und Konflikte hat dem Potential, das dieser Idee innewohnte, den Garaus gemacht. Hätte Adiga sich auf ein oder zwei Themengebiete konzentriert - es hätte etwas werden können. So ist es aber schlussendlich ein überladenes Buch ohne Zug geworden.
Drei Sterne für gute Beschreibungen der heutigen indischen Gesellschaft und ihrer Gefahrenzonen.
littlefoot10's review against another edition
2.0
This book was also not my cup of tea. The plot originally intrigued me, because I thought it was going to be about cricket, reaching for your dreams, working hard for something YOU want...the family drama of trying to be better than your siblings. And in part it was this.. and others I'm not even sure what was happening. The way this novel was written it just didn't flow. It's also hard to enjoy a book where the main character is as unlikable as Manju. It was definitely a struggle for me to finish this novel...but I completed it.
bookerworm's review against another edition
1.0
A bad book by a good writer. Too many unnecessary details and climax is missing.
rkap's review against another edition
emotional
sad
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.0
fictionfan's review against another edition
5.0
The Gentleman's Game...
Two brothers are being groomed by their father to become the greatest cricketers in India. Radha, the elder, with his film-star looks and love of the game, is the better of the two, and it's accepted that he will be the star. But as they grow up, Radha's skill diminishes, just a little, but enough for him to be eclipsed by the younger Manju, whose attitude to the game is more ambivalent. Their mother having disappeared when they were little (run away? dead? The boys aren't sure), the brothers have been brought up by their tyrannical father Mohan, who is determined they will succeed in the sport as a way to raise the family out of the slums. So when the chance of sponsorship comes along, Mohan grabs it, even though it's at best an unethical deal which sells his sons into a kind of bondage and, at worst, borders on the illegal.
This is a story of sibling rivalry, tied in with a wider picture of corruption in society shown through the corruption in cricket. The game, once the preserve of all that was considered gentlemanly, has become all about money. The days of languorous five-day test matches has morphed into not only one-day cricket, but the hideousness of the ultra-short 20-20, which Adiga describes in his humorous glossary of cricketing terms at the end of the book as “in the eyes of some older fans, almost as bad as baseball.” It's not necessary, I think, to know about cricket to enjoy the book - Adiga doesn't fall into the trap of lengthy descriptions of games, tactics or technicalities, and the sport could as easily be any other. But cricket has a particular resonance, because of its origin as a game of the British Empire, a period whose influence is still vital in understanding much of Indian society.
As Manju hits adolescence, he becomes fascinated by another young player, Javed. Javed is gay and Manju's attraction to him suggests that he is too. But Manju is of a lower class than Javed and has a father who's not likely to be the most supportive, so it would take considerably more courage for him to admit his feelings than Javed. But his relationship with Javed isn't purely about physical attraction – Manju finds himself influenced by the older, more confident boy in other ways. Javed, another talented cricketer, sees the corruption in the sport and wants Manju to give it up. So poor Manju has a jealous brother who feels he deserves to be the best, a friend pulling him away from cricket, and his father and his coach putting pressure on him to practice every moment he can. It's not altogether surprising that he's confused before he gets to Selection Day, the day on which the big teams pick which young players they will sign.
I love Adiga's depiction of Mumbai or Bombay (names which he uses interchangeably). He shows the poverty, corruption and class divisions quite clearly but, unlike some of the (usually ex-pat) Indian writers who love to wallow exclusively in the misery, Adiga also shows the other side – the vibrancy, the struggle for social mobility, the advances of recent years. His characters, even when they're being put through the emotional wringer, manage to have some fun along the way, and the whole atmosphere he portrays lacks the irredeemable hopelessness of so much Indian literature. There's also a good deal of humour, often very perceptive and coming at unexpected moments, startling me into laughter. This book tackles some tough subjects, but on the whole Adiga simply lays the arguments out and leaves the reader to come to her own conclusions – there's no whiff of the polemical in his writing.
There is, however, some great characterisation, and he writes about them empathetically so that it's hard not to see why even the less savoury characters have turned out as they have. One of the things I loved was seeing how the perception of Mohan, the boys' father, changed as they grew up. This man who loomed over them in childhood shrinks as they grow – both physically and in terms of his influence. It's the mark of the quality of Adiga's writing that this happens so gradually there's no jarring moment, but towards the end I realised I had come to feel about him quite differently than I had in the beginning.
For me, this was a slow-burn book. It took at least a third of the book before I was convinced that this tale of cricketing brothers was going to hold my interest. But as it progressed, I began to appreciate the subtlety with which Adiga was showing various aspects of contemporary Indian life, and as always I found his writing pure pleasure to read. And by the time I reached the end, I found he had again created some characters who had become real to me, in the way Masterji did in his excellent [b:Last Man in Tower|10854908|Last Man in Tower|Aravind Adiga|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1328165348s/10854908.jpg|15021310]. This book confirms Adiga's place as one of my favourite authors, and gets my wholehearted recommendation.
NB This book was provided for review by the publisher, Scribner.
www.fictionfanblog.wordpress.com
“India: A country said to have two real religions – cinema and cricket.”
Two brothers are being groomed by their father to become the greatest cricketers in India. Radha, the elder, with his film-star looks and love of the game, is the better of the two, and it's accepted that he will be the star. But as they grow up, Radha's skill diminishes, just a little, but enough for him to be eclipsed by the younger Manju, whose attitude to the game is more ambivalent. Their mother having disappeared when they were little (run away? dead? The boys aren't sure), the brothers have been brought up by their tyrannical father Mohan, who is determined they will succeed in the sport as a way to raise the family out of the slums. So when the chance of sponsorship comes along, Mohan grabs it, even though it's at best an unethical deal which sells his sons into a kind of bondage and, at worst, borders on the illegal.
This is a story of sibling rivalry, tied in with a wider picture of corruption in society shown through the corruption in cricket. The game, once the preserve of all that was considered gentlemanly, has become all about money. The days of languorous five-day test matches has morphed into not only one-day cricket, but the hideousness of the ultra-short 20-20, which Adiga describes in his humorous glossary of cricketing terms at the end of the book as “in the eyes of some older fans, almost as bad as baseball.” It's not necessary, I think, to know about cricket to enjoy the book - Adiga doesn't fall into the trap of lengthy descriptions of games, tactics or technicalities, and the sport could as easily be any other. But cricket has a particular resonance, because of its origin as a game of the British Empire, a period whose influence is still vital in understanding much of Indian society.
In the next few minutes, Anand Mehta came up with the following observations about cricket: that it was a fraud, and at the most fundamental level. Only ten countries play this game, and only five of them play it well. If we had any self-respect, we'd finally grow up as a people and play football. No: let's not expose ourselves to real competition, much safer to be in a “world cup” against St. Kitts and Bangladesh. Self-obsession without self-belief: the very definition of the Indian middle class, which is why it loves this fraud sport.
Poised to offer the world more deep thoughts about the gentleman’s game, Mehta heard:
Shot! Bloody good shot!...
Confronted by the sound and smell of an instant of real cricket, Mehta felt all his mighty observations turn to ashes.
As Manju hits adolescence, he becomes fascinated by another young player, Javed. Javed is gay and Manju's attraction to him suggests that he is too. But Manju is of a lower class than Javed and has a father who's not likely to be the most supportive, so it would take considerably more courage for him to admit his feelings than Javed. But his relationship with Javed isn't purely about physical attraction – Manju finds himself influenced by the older, more confident boy in other ways. Javed, another talented cricketer, sees the corruption in the sport and wants Manju to give it up. So poor Manju has a jealous brother who feels he deserves to be the best, a friend pulling him away from cricket, and his father and his coach putting pressure on him to practice every moment he can. It's not altogether surprising that he's confused before he gets to Selection Day, the day on which the big teams pick which young players they will sign.
I love Adiga's depiction of Mumbai or Bombay (names which he uses interchangeably). He shows the poverty, corruption and class divisions quite clearly but, unlike some of the (usually ex-pat) Indian writers who love to wallow exclusively in the misery, Adiga also shows the other side – the vibrancy, the struggle for social mobility, the advances of recent years. His characters, even when they're being put through the emotional wringer, manage to have some fun along the way, and the whole atmosphere he portrays lacks the irredeemable hopelessness of so much Indian literature. There's also a good deal of humour, often very perceptive and coming at unexpected moments, startling me into laughter. This book tackles some tough subjects, but on the whole Adiga simply lays the arguments out and leaves the reader to come to her own conclusions – there's no whiff of the polemical in his writing.
“People thought I had a future as a writer, Manju. I wanted to write a great novel about Mumbai,” the principal said, playing with her glasses. “But then...then I began, and I could not write it. The only thing I could write about, in fact, was that I couldn't write about the city.
“The sun, which I can't describe like Homer, rises over Mumbai, which I can't describe like Salman Rushdie, creating new moral dilemmas for all of us, which I won't be able to describe like Amitav Ghosh.”
There is, however, some great characterisation, and he writes about them empathetically so that it's hard not to see why even the less savoury characters have turned out as they have. One of the things I loved was seeing how the perception of Mohan, the boys' father, changed as they grew up. This man who loomed over them in childhood shrinks as they grow – both physically and in terms of his influence. It's the mark of the quality of Adiga's writing that this happens so gradually there's no jarring moment, but towards the end I realised I had come to feel about him quite differently than I had in the beginning.
For me, this was a slow-burn book. It took at least a third of the book before I was convinced that this tale of cricketing brothers was going to hold my interest. But as it progressed, I began to appreciate the subtlety with which Adiga was showing various aspects of contemporary Indian life, and as always I found his writing pure pleasure to read. And by the time I reached the end, I found he had again created some characters who had become real to me, in the way Masterji did in his excellent [b:Last Man in Tower|10854908|Last Man in Tower|Aravind Adiga|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1328165348s/10854908.jpg|15021310]. This book confirms Adiga's place as one of my favourite authors, and gets my wholehearted recommendation.
NB This book was provided for review by the publisher, Scribner.
www.fictionfanblog.wordpress.com
eclectictales's review against another edition
2.0
I was approved an ARC of this book by the publishers via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. This review in its entirety was originally posted at my blog, eclectic tales: http://eclectictales.insanitysandwich.com/blog/2017/01/10/review-selection-day/
Now, I was pretty excited when I initially agreed to read this book for review: set in India, a story about family with the running theme of cricket, a sport I have never truly understood nor learnt about, but especially the family dynamic aspect of the novel. Unfortunately I found that for most of the novel, the characters and the family were apart so whilst the shadow of each other’s personalities and achievements weighed down on the other characters, there weren’t as many confrontations or scenes together as I thought there would have.
I also wished I understood cricket more–I thought the book would sort of enlighten me a bit about the game and how it works, but I finished the book feeling even more confused than ever before =/
Overall, whilst Selection Day had great ideas and a great premise, I felt like perhaps there was too many things going on: a coming of age story, family dynamics amongst a strict single father and two rivalling sons in dreams and ability, sexuality, class/religion…In the end I just didn’t feel for the story nor truly cared for the characters.
Now, I was pretty excited when I initially agreed to read this book for review: set in India, a story about family with the running theme of cricket, a sport I have never truly understood nor learnt about, but especially the family dynamic aspect of the novel. Unfortunately I found that for most of the novel, the characters and the family were apart so whilst the shadow of each other’s personalities and achievements weighed down on the other characters, there weren’t as many confrontations or scenes together as I thought there would have.
I also wished I understood cricket more–I thought the book would sort of enlighten me a bit about the game and how it works, but I finished the book feeling even more confused than ever before =/
Overall, whilst Selection Day had great ideas and a great premise, I felt like perhaps there was too many things going on: a coming of age story, family dynamics amongst a strict single father and two rivalling sons in dreams and ability, sexuality, class/religion…In the end I just didn’t feel for the story nor truly cared for the characters.
stefaniefrei's review against another edition
4.0
„… der Sieg der Zivilisation über den Instinkt“ (S. 92)
Aravind Adiga hat in seinem dritten Roman „Golden Boy“ viel zu erzählen darüber, wie Menschen einander manipulieren und betrügen und damit letztlich auch sich selbst. Er schreibt über enttäuschte Träume und Hoffnungen. „Manju kannte den Blick: Erschöpfung, die daher rührt, dass man tagein, tagaus Leute treffen muss, die mehr von einem wollen, als man ihnen geben will.“ S. 202
Mohan Kumar hat große Träume und Hoffnungen: sein älterer Sohn Radha soll der beste Schlagmann beim Cricket werden, der jüngere Manju der zweitbeste. Alles wird diesen Plänen und dem Trainingsregime untergeordnet, keine Kohlenhydrate, kein Junkfood, eiserne Disziplin – und Kontrolle über jegliche pubertären Begehrlichkeiten. Manju ist wissenschaftlich interessiert – der Vater wirft selbst Experimente für die Schule weg. „Mit seinen vierzehneinhalb Jahren war Radha klar, dass die Regeln seines Vaters, die ihm die Welt ringsum gerahmt hatten, Gefängnisgitterstäbe waren.“ S. 38 Reine Ablehnung ist hier eine zu einfache Lösung: gerade für Jungen aus den Slums, gerade innerhalb der Zersplitterung des Vielvölkerstaats Indien mit seinen Religionen und Ethnien ist der sportliche Erfolg DIE Chance auf sozialen Aufstieg – und (über-)ehrgeizige Eltern gibt es leider überall.
„Cricket ist der Sieg der Zivilisation über den Instinkt“ S. 92 Der indische Autor schreibt darüber – denn in diesem Umfeld leben seine Protagonisten, hieran machen sie diese Träume und Hoffnungen fest. Das „funktioniert“ auch für einen Leser außerhalb des Commonwealth, des „Einzugsgebietes“ für Cricket, wenngleich man natürlich wenig von den Regeln und Ritualen versteht – man kann einfach stattdessen an Fußball denken oder an American Football. In Deutschland kann man sagen, man sei beispielsweise von jemandem beruflich ins Abseits gestellt worden, einfach, weil die Fußball-Begrifflichkeit so omnipräsent ist – auch ohne die Regeln komplett nachvollziehen zu können. Die Betrügereien mit Fußballwetten finden ihr indisches Pendant. „Wir sind von uns selbst besessen, ohne an uns zu glauben – das ist genau die Definition der indischen Mittelschicht, die diesen Betrugssport eben deshalb so sehr liebt.“ S. 283
Für die begabten Brüder bietet der sportliche Erfolg eine Chance – dabei liegt die tragische Ironie durchaus auch darin, dass sie mit diesem Erfolg ihrem kontrollsüchtigen Vater entgehen können gerade INDEM sie dessen Erwartungen erfüllen. Und durch den Sport öffnen sich ihnen auch immer wieder Türen zu anderen Welten, anderen Möglichkeiten. So lernt Manju den moslemischen Cricketspieler Jarved kennen. Dieser widersetzt sich der wenn auch sanfteren Manipulation seines reichen Vaters und beendet dessen Cricketträume. „Aber was willst du denn machen, wenn du kein Cricket mehr spielst?“ fragt ihn Manju. Jarved: „Alles“ S. 198 Das sexuelle Erwachen von Manju verkompliziert die Situation, da er nicht den gesellschaftlichen Vorgaben entspricht.
Nach einem etwas schwierigeren Start in die Handlung wegen der vielen Sportbeschreibungen (einfach weiterlesen) und fremden Begriffe aus Indien (meist Regionen, Sprachen, Gerichte – einfach gelegentlich nachschlagen) konnte ich mich einlesen, mir blieb aber ein Problem: Immer, wenn einer der Charaktere mich zu berühren anfing, wechselte der Autor die Perspektive. Ich hatte ein wenig das Gefühl, als wisse er selbst nicht so sehr, ob er nun die Geschichte von einem seiner Charaktere erzählen wollte – am ehesten die von Manju – oder über die indische Gegenwart oder über das Dilemma des Erfüllens von Träumen anderer, und als trete er deshalb immer wieder in eine gewisse Distanz zu seinen Figuren. Außerdem schildert der Autor eindrucksvoll bestimmte Sachverhalte oder Ereignisse, die er später auch auflöst oder zumindest Ansätze bietet (wie Manjus „Gedankenlesen“), während er bei anderen für mich völlig diffus bleibt, ohne dass es sich um ein stilistisches Mittel zu handeln scheint (Manju und die Taube). Insgesamt also für mich kein ungetrübter Genuss wegen zu vieler offener Fäden, wobei ich sprachlich durchaus angetan war. 3,6 Punkte....
Aravind Adiga hat in seinem dritten Roman „Golden Boy“ viel zu erzählen darüber, wie Menschen einander manipulieren und betrügen und damit letztlich auch sich selbst. Er schreibt über enttäuschte Träume und Hoffnungen. „Manju kannte den Blick: Erschöpfung, die daher rührt, dass man tagein, tagaus Leute treffen muss, die mehr von einem wollen, als man ihnen geben will.“ S. 202
Mohan Kumar hat große Träume und Hoffnungen: sein älterer Sohn Radha soll der beste Schlagmann beim Cricket werden, der jüngere Manju der zweitbeste. Alles wird diesen Plänen und dem Trainingsregime untergeordnet, keine Kohlenhydrate, kein Junkfood, eiserne Disziplin – und Kontrolle über jegliche pubertären Begehrlichkeiten. Manju ist wissenschaftlich interessiert – der Vater wirft selbst Experimente für die Schule weg. „Mit seinen vierzehneinhalb Jahren war Radha klar, dass die Regeln seines Vaters, die ihm die Welt ringsum gerahmt hatten, Gefängnisgitterstäbe waren.“ S. 38 Reine Ablehnung ist hier eine zu einfache Lösung: gerade für Jungen aus den Slums, gerade innerhalb der Zersplitterung des Vielvölkerstaats Indien mit seinen Religionen und Ethnien ist der sportliche Erfolg DIE Chance auf sozialen Aufstieg – und (über-)ehrgeizige Eltern gibt es leider überall.
„Cricket ist der Sieg der Zivilisation über den Instinkt“ S. 92 Der indische Autor schreibt darüber – denn in diesem Umfeld leben seine Protagonisten, hieran machen sie diese Träume und Hoffnungen fest. Das „funktioniert“ auch für einen Leser außerhalb des Commonwealth, des „Einzugsgebietes“ für Cricket, wenngleich man natürlich wenig von den Regeln und Ritualen versteht – man kann einfach stattdessen an Fußball denken oder an American Football. In Deutschland kann man sagen, man sei beispielsweise von jemandem beruflich ins Abseits gestellt worden, einfach, weil die Fußball-Begrifflichkeit so omnipräsent ist – auch ohne die Regeln komplett nachvollziehen zu können. Die Betrügereien mit Fußballwetten finden ihr indisches Pendant. „Wir sind von uns selbst besessen, ohne an uns zu glauben – das ist genau die Definition der indischen Mittelschicht, die diesen Betrugssport eben deshalb so sehr liebt.“ S. 283
Für die begabten Brüder bietet der sportliche Erfolg eine Chance – dabei liegt die tragische Ironie durchaus auch darin, dass sie mit diesem Erfolg ihrem kontrollsüchtigen Vater entgehen können gerade INDEM sie dessen Erwartungen erfüllen. Und durch den Sport öffnen sich ihnen auch immer wieder Türen zu anderen Welten, anderen Möglichkeiten. So lernt Manju den moslemischen Cricketspieler Jarved kennen. Dieser widersetzt sich der wenn auch sanfteren Manipulation seines reichen Vaters und beendet dessen Cricketträume. „Aber was willst du denn machen, wenn du kein Cricket mehr spielst?“ fragt ihn Manju. Jarved: „Alles“ S. 198 Das sexuelle Erwachen von Manju verkompliziert die Situation, da er nicht den gesellschaftlichen Vorgaben entspricht.
Nach einem etwas schwierigeren Start in die Handlung wegen der vielen Sportbeschreibungen (einfach weiterlesen) und fremden Begriffe aus Indien (meist Regionen, Sprachen, Gerichte – einfach gelegentlich nachschlagen) konnte ich mich einlesen, mir blieb aber ein Problem: Immer, wenn einer der Charaktere mich zu berühren anfing, wechselte der Autor die Perspektive. Ich hatte ein wenig das Gefühl, als wisse er selbst nicht so sehr, ob er nun die Geschichte von einem seiner Charaktere erzählen wollte – am ehesten die von Manju – oder über die indische Gegenwart oder über das Dilemma des Erfüllens von Träumen anderer, und als trete er deshalb immer wieder in eine gewisse Distanz zu seinen Figuren. Außerdem schildert der Autor eindrucksvoll bestimmte Sachverhalte oder Ereignisse, die er später auch auflöst oder zumindest Ansätze bietet (wie Manjus „Gedankenlesen“), während er bei anderen für mich völlig diffus bleibt, ohne dass es sich um ein stilistisches Mittel zu handeln scheint (Manju und die Taube). Insgesamt also für mich kein ungetrübter Genuss wegen zu vieler offener Fäden, wobei ich sprachlich durchaus angetan war. 3,6 Punkte....
hawkscratch's review against another edition
challenging
dark
emotional
funny
reflective
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.25
ericgaryanderson's review against another edition
4.0
With this I've read all three of Adiga's novels (I haven't gotten to his short story collection yet). He is a terrific novelist: a wonderful stylist (great sentences!) and a sharp observer of his characters and the spaces they inhabit or pass through. Selection Day is ostensibly about boys coming up as cricket players, but the book has much more to say about growing up, grappling with challenging parents and other flawed adults, exploring relationships between boys, and coming as near to terms as possible with emerging sexualities than it does about sport. Perhaps a bit hurried toward the end, but mileage on this may vary. A good read, GoodReads!