When I woke up this morning, noticing the hour was way too early for a day when only the truly unlucky have work (and for that, you can thank my great great great great uncle or something or other, John Logan. Let's hear it for my fancy wasp relatives!), my first thought wasn't, "Balls, when will I learn to sleep in?" or "Sweet, 'Saved by the Bell' reruns start at 7am on tbs" but "oh good, I can finish A Fine Balance." And I did. And it was amazing. The owner of Idlewild Books, the most amazing travel bookstore in NY (and possibly my 2nd favorite bookstore in NY...but god, who are we kidding? that'd be like asking a mother to pick her favorite child!), pointed me towards this book, promising that it would give me an understanding of India no travel guide ever could. It gave me that and so much more. The heartbreaking randomness of events have never been more beautifully drawn than in Mistry's work. The coming together and coming apart of four seemingly random people in an unnamed Indian town in the 70's makes for one of the more compelling books I have read this year, if not in my lifetime. Between that and running into a friend of a friend last night who happens to be Indian and raved about how beautiful (if unbearably hot) Chennai is, I'm feeling a whole lot better about this whole thang.
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