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thisotherbookaccount 's review for:
Midnight's Children
by Salman Rushdie
Saleem Sinai, the protagonist/narrator of Midnight's Children, says this towards the beginning of the book: To understand just one life, you have to swallow the world -- and maybe that's my problem with Midnight's Children.
Approach anything with a Pulitzer/Booker Prize label with caution, as I try to tell myself from time to time, but the double whammy of magical realism and the history of India made me break that rule of thumb. Besides, it's not like I haven't enjoyed Pulitzer/Booker Prize winners in the past (I'm a fan of Margaret Atwood's The Blind Assassin and Yann Martel's Life of Pi). So I gave this a shot and, well, it didn't turn out so well.
Instead of telling the story of Sinai and how his life mirrors that of modern India (since they were born on the same day and at the same time), Senai, as a narrator, would go off to tell the story of every single living member of his family. So we get to hear about his grandfather, grandmother, parents, sister, neighbours, caretakers, cousins, and everybody in between. Sinai was a part of India's history the way Forrest Gump was a part of the US'. But it was a tough book to get through because, whatever that you read in the synopsis, about how a boy is born at the stroke of midnight with telepathic powers and a powerful sense of smell, doesn't actually kick in until about 250 pages into the story.
In short, I can't say it was a bad book, because it obviously isn't. It just isn't my cup of tea, that's all. The characters were strong enough to carry me to about 450 pages, despite the story, and if you are patient enough to sit through Rushdie's ramblings, then this is the book for you.
Approach anything with a Pulitzer/Booker Prize label with caution, as I try to tell myself from time to time, but the double whammy of magical realism and the history of India made me break that rule of thumb. Besides, it's not like I haven't enjoyed Pulitzer/Booker Prize winners in the past (I'm a fan of Margaret Atwood's The Blind Assassin and Yann Martel's Life of Pi). So I gave this a shot and, well, it didn't turn out so well.
Instead of telling the story of Sinai and how his life mirrors that of modern India (since they were born on the same day and at the same time), Senai, as a narrator, would go off to tell the story of every single living member of his family. So we get to hear about his grandfather, grandmother, parents, sister, neighbours, caretakers, cousins, and everybody in between. Sinai was a part of India's history the way Forrest Gump was a part of the US'. But it was a tough book to get through because, whatever that you read in the synopsis, about how a boy is born at the stroke of midnight with telepathic powers and a powerful sense of smell, doesn't actually kick in until about 250 pages into the story.
In short, I can't say it was a bad book, because it obviously isn't. It just isn't my cup of tea, that's all. The characters were strong enough to carry me to about 450 pages, despite the story, and if you are patient enough to sit through Rushdie's ramblings, then this is the book for you.