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The book I picked up in my large charity shop purchase that was the biggest unknown quantity (and also the biggest book) was Shantaram by Gregory David Roberts.
It's 933 pages long, spanning about eight years in the life of an Australian armed robber, who escapes from prison and flees to Bombay, where he establishes a free clinic in a slum, but also gets embroiled in working for the local mafia.
It's partially autobiographical, turning the actual experiences of the author into a novel. I found it compelling right from the start, though daunting in its size. But I'm so glad I persevered, because it's a truly fascinating book, which is extremely well written and absorbing.
What amazes me is that Roberts packs so much into a relatively short period, when there are also really interesting things that happened to him both before and after his time in Bombay, some of which are referenced here but not full explored.
But the story he does tell is full of great characters, exciting anecdotes, thrilling escapades - and several encounters with a very amusing bear.
The only thing that annoyed me about the story is that frequently, especially in the first half, there was very clumsy foreshadowing, along the lines of: "I didn't know it then, but I would come to learn over the years I knew Fred, that..." I find this technique very irritating, but it didn't detract too much from my enjoyment of the book overall.
Several sections were very grim, in terms of describing deaths and injuries that occurred, but it was in keeping with the gritty reality of the story, so I could forgive that.
The book is beautiful and brutal, fascinating and horrifying, funny and tragic. All of human life is here, and the protagonist proves a compelling and appealing guide to the world of Bombay in the 1980s. The prose is startling in its descriptive beauty and imagery, and I was wholly invested in Lin's exploits throughout.
I'm so glad I randomly picked this book up as part of a job lot, as I likely never would have come across it otherwise. And I'm delighted to discover there's an 880 page sequel, though I don't think I'll be embarking on that for a while.
It's 933 pages long, spanning about eight years in the life of an Australian armed robber, who escapes from prison and flees to Bombay, where he establishes a free clinic in a slum, but also gets embroiled in working for the local mafia.
It's partially autobiographical, turning the actual experiences of the author into a novel. I found it compelling right from the start, though daunting in its size. But I'm so glad I persevered, because it's a truly fascinating book, which is extremely well written and absorbing.
What amazes me is that Roberts packs so much into a relatively short period, when there are also really interesting things that happened to him both before and after his time in Bombay, some of which are referenced here but not full explored.
But the story he does tell is full of great characters, exciting anecdotes, thrilling escapades - and several encounters with a very amusing bear.
The only thing that annoyed me about the story is that frequently, especially in the first half, there was very clumsy foreshadowing, along the lines of: "I didn't know it then, but I would come to learn over the years I knew Fred, that..." I find this technique very irritating, but it didn't detract too much from my enjoyment of the book overall.
Several sections were very grim, in terms of describing deaths and injuries that occurred, but it was in keeping with the gritty reality of the story, so I could forgive that.
The book is beautiful and brutal, fascinating and horrifying, funny and tragic. All of human life is here, and the protagonist proves a compelling and appealing guide to the world of Bombay in the 1980s. The prose is startling in its descriptive beauty and imagery, and I was wholly invested in Lin's exploits throughout.
I'm so glad I randomly picked this book up as part of a job lot, as I likely never would have come across it otherwise. And I'm delighted to discover there's an 880 page sequel, though I don't think I'll be embarking on that for a while.
