The God of Small Things Reviews

• Imaginative and compelling

  
  By AAIL33CYCT47J on 2005-09-28
  My sister had been telling me to read this book for a long time and I just never got around to it. I wanted to, but I have to admit that the subject matter seemed pretty standard for an award-winning book: 'The God of Small Things' centers around a tragedy that rends a family apart and its lasting effects on the twins who were at the heart of it. But the truth is that there is little that is standard about Arundhati Roy's writing. She tells her story in a completely original narrative that puts you inside the heads of the young twins who drive the plot. You see the world through the slightly fantastic, exaggerated eyes of a child caught in very grown-up circumstances. I can see that some would criticize her style as "weird", but that is the whole beauty of it. Most children that I know see the world in a slightly off-kilter way (and I know for a fact that I did). That's just the nature of kids. The innocence of the perspective makes the events of the plot seem that much more disturbing and downright chilling. I was wrong to expect a by-the-numbers book when I picked this up. Ms. Roy's novel is very original and well written. Now if only she would write another fiction book!
  
  

• Allegedly Alluring Alliterative Allegory

  
  By on 2000-08-06
  This highly stylized novel tells the tale of a turbulent, patrician, Syrian Christian family from a small town in Kerala, in the southernmost tip of India.

  The plot centers on the seven year old fraternal twins Esthappen (Estha) and Rahel and is told from the point of view of Rahel.

  A strange and eccentric cast of characters rounds out the family with whom Estha and Rahel live. There is Blind Mammachi, the twins' grandmother and founder of Paradise Pickles and Preserves. Blind Mammachi is a virtuous violin-playing widow who suffered years of unwarranted abuse at the hands of her highly-respected husband and who now has a fierce one-sided Oedipal connection with her son, Chacko.

  There is Estha and Rahel's grandaunt, Baby Kochamma, who totters on air cushions for feet while playing out the bitterness of her lifetime of unrequited love for an Irish Roman Catholic priest; she even converted to Catholicism in order to win him...just as he was converting to Hinduism. Now, a spiteful, spirited spinster, Baby Kochamma spends her days savoring soap operas and satellite television wrestling matches.

  And then, there is Velutha, the title character, an ebulliently talented handyman, tainted by his Paravan lineage.

  Chacko, who is now divorced from his English wife and who hasn't seen his baby daughter since her infancy, runs Paradise Pickles and Preserves with the iron hand of what he deludes himself into thinking is communism, even as he flirts with and beds his female employees.

  The twins' mother, Ammu, is a divorcée (and a devotée of divorce), who fled her tyrannical husband's alcoholism and incessantly insistent demands, and yet Ammu, herself, is a wilfull woman with a wickedly wild side that will prove to be the undoing of both herself and her unsuspecting family. A feminist before feminism, Ammu cannot decide on a last name, because as she says, "choosing between her husband's name and her father's name didn't give a woman much of a choice." At all.

  Roy's characters are both fun and funny because "They broke all the rules. They crossed into forbidden territory. They tampered with the laws that lay down who should be loved and how. And how much. The laws that make grandmothers grandmothers, uncles uncles, mothers mothers, cousins cousins, jam jam and jelly jelly." With the exception if Ammu and Chacko, though, they are, unfortunately, made of plaster already filled with cracks and holes and ready to crumble, rather than solidly constructed of flesh and blood and, therefore, they suffer the fate of the not-very-believable.

  The tragedy in this book revolves around the visit of Chacko's ex-wife, now a willing widow courtesy of her second husband, and Chacko's daughter, Sophie Mol. Together this eclectically and fatally-fractured family will endure an inexorable egress toward disillusion, madness, guilt, betrayal and death. Lives, of course, will be forever fragmented as the one aspect all the characters share is their own vulnerability; the ability to be physically and psychologically wounded.

  Lovers of Hemingway should definitely eschew this book, for this is no linear, spare story. A densely-woven tapestry made of constantly undulating, heavily-layered plots and lush torrents of newly-minted words and phrases, The God of Small Things is told in flashbacks and flashforwards and twists and turns that are as fresh and original as a newly-hybridized tomato, straight off the vine. This is good, brilliant even, when there is a story to tell. The God of Small Things, however, might just be a little short on story and a little long on style.

  Although Roy's dazzlingly daunting and agile ability to turn a phrase cannot be denied, it is her breathtaking aptitude for summing up a damaged life in one or two felicitous phrases that constitutes her major talent, for instance, the description of the great-grandmother's portrait: "With her eyes she looked in the direction her husband looked. With her heart she looked away." Or, "Baby Kochamma had lived her life backwards. As a young woman she renounced the material word, and now, as an old one, she seemed to embrace it. She hugged it and it hugged her back."

  As brilliant and original as this book is, it is certainly not a masterpiece. Despite its fine, often heady, writing, there remains something of the formulaic about it. Evocative and sensual descriptions aside, the tragedy that occurs and the love affair that ensues are both predictable and implausible, in part, because they spring from neither characterization nor the needs of the unfolding (sort-of) non-plot.

  The word play and the all-pervasive use of children's lingo, devices that serve to make the beginning of the novel sparkle and shine like sunshine on sea water, begin to wear as thin as a poor man's watered-down gruel after one hundred pages (more or less), and become both predictable and tedious.

  And, of course, there are several scenes (the most glaring taking place in a theatre) that seem quite gratuitous, something that Roy seemed to have inserted simply to shock for shock's sake. In a day and age when nothing shocks but the unvarnished truth (and even then, not always), these scenes are simply irritating and definitely detract from the would-be charms of the novel.

  The bottom line, for most readers, will not be the plot, or even the lack thereof, but their view of Roy's original prose style. Is it ostentatious or is it brilliant? Readers who find The Old Man the Sea the pinnacle of style should probably stay away. But those who enjoy working their way with a machete through a veritable forest of a book, filled with lush, densely-growing undergrowth, should find The God of Small Things nothing short of fantastic.
  
  

• Absolutely Astounding

  
  By on 2001-01-11
  Roy's mastery of metaphor and creativity in wordplay may just be among the best in the English language today. In The God of Small Things she tells a haunting tragedy in hauntingly beautiful prose that borders on poetry. Almost every scene painted itself visibly in my mind, but in particular I find myself dwelling on the OrangedrinkLemondrink Man, and on the airport scene: Ambassadors E. Pelvis and S. Insect; Rahel wrapping herself in the dirty curtain to escape the reeling changes in her life. I'm so impressed by Roy's ability to see a child's-eye view of the world, and it's so easy to believe that Rahel and Estha would assume that "love had been reapportioned." It's also a remarkable achievement in non-linear storytelling for a first-time novelist.

  Having said all that, I confess to loving non-linear narrative. If you don't like it, you probably won't think much of this book.

  Finally, and coincidentally, just before I read The God of Small Things I read Green English, by linguist Loreto Todd. It's a nonfiction book and I won't go into her thesis. But at one point she suggests that some of the best literature of the 20th century comes from countries where one language (usually a colonizing language, as in India, Ireland, New Zealand, numerous African countries...) has overlaid and been adapted to fit an earlier language, pushing the boundaries of expression. This book seems to me to be a prime example of that idea.
  
  

• Tough Read-Not for Everyone

  
  By AI9GAZ416TIM1 on 2002-04-01
  The God of Small Things is a Booker Prize recipient & I hoped that I would enjoy it as much as the many raving reviews said I would. Unfortunately, I did not find this to be a book that I enjoyed. The book was well written and full of a lot of lyrical/poetic prose. This is a book that requires much focus and concentration and despite my best efforts, I can't say that I enjoyed it. The novel, set in India does flashbacks from past to present around an Indian family. Rahel & Estha are twins, born into a family that owns a pickling company. Most of the story is set during the 1960's and portrays a life of deep poverty and sadness. Through flashbacks from the past as well as current information, we learn the painful history of this family and the secrets that destroyed it. I had hoped to gain a better understanding of Indian culture, but personally felt the author only grazed the surface of this issue and never felt I got to really know or understand any of the characters. This is a book that I may have enjoyed more reading it in an English class to gain a full appreciation and understanding of the writing. While many may love this book, I don't think it's for everyone.
  
  

• A Little Over-Hyped

  
  By on 2000-08-05
  Although my own novelist wife loved the stylistic devices used in this novel, I thought the book contained some major flaws. First, I do want to say that it is obvious that Ms. Roy is a writer of considerable talent and imagination, but she is not a natural storyteller a la Gabriel Garcia Marquez. I think she needs a little more experience and discipline, that's all.

  All of the characters except two were quite wooden and cardboard. Ms. Roy certainly did not make good use of the third person subjective in letting us into the minds and hearts of the people she wanted us to know.

  Also, while other, more experienced writers can, and have, gone back and forth in time successfully (Toni Morrison springs to mind instantly), this type of nonlinear storytelling takes much planning and effort. It seems as though Ms. Roy was simply not up to the task--yet!

  And, I thought a novel was supposed to let you know what the story was about in the first paragraph, if not the first sentence? When I was reading page one hundred, I found myself thinking, "But what is the story about! "

  The stylistic devices employed were, at times, irritating, but I could have gotten past this if only the story itself had been compelling enough, which it just wasn't.

  No matter how much my gorgeous wife loved the style and tone, I find I can only give the book three stars, and even that is pushing it!

  I would, however, be willing to try another book of Ms. Roy's when she gains a little more experience in the technique of storytelling.
  
  

• One of the best books I've read...innovative language
  By on 2000-10-04
  What is the God of Small Things? Small things are what we talk about when the big things are too difficult and too overwhelming. This book is the story of the childhood of non-fraternal twins, Rahel & Estha - a girl and a boy, family, forbidden lovers, politics, and tradition. Ammu is the twins' mother; a woman of a priviledged family who married, then divorced her twins' alcoholic father. Baby Kochamma is their manipulative spinster aunt who pines for a priest she met as a young girl. Sophie Mol is a visting Indian/English cousin who meets her end soon after arriving. The story progresses, in a backwards and forwards manner, telling the tale(s) that ended their childhoods. The children, utimately become pawns in the cruel "history" being played out by the adults around them. We often see the result of the action, before we know what occurred; a complex puzzle unfolding. This story encorporates issues of human relationships, the complicated emotions and repurcussions of the caste system, brutality, and the ability to survive. Holding together the microcosms of the many "small" stories within this story is Roy's use of language. The silly rhymes of the children, their imaginative nicknames for adults, and their view of the love and cruelty of adults, and the interpretation of the world on their terms, creates a framework for this story. The use of "non-standard" English is widely used, which some reviews seem to believe is unintentional. For instance, verbs are sometimes capitalized in order to emphasize the inevitability, the concrete-ness, of the action. Sentances are often framented in order to express a thought, especially a child's thought. (I certainly don't think in complete, grammatical sentances myself). It's really quite beautifully written. It takes a few pages to get to the heart of the story, but once there you will be enthralled. If you are open to an innovative use of language and story telling, along with complex, emotional narrative, you will enjoy this book. I highly recommend it.
  
  
• Pseudo-intellectual
  By A5W4T1HU3OEGV on 2001-02-20
  I consider this book the written version of modern art's "big yellow dot". In any modern art museum you'll find a large black canvas with nothing but a big yellow dot on it. No matter what obtuse meaning pseudo-intellectuals ascribe to that painting, it remains that it's no more than a big yellow dot.

  "God of Small Things" is the written equivalent. It will no doubt continue to be popular in some circles as some readers ascribe deep meaning to its confusing plot lines and verbiage. But deep in my heart I believe the vast majority of people are saying (if only under their breath), "Why in the world did I read this book?"
  
  

• Small is Beautiful
  By A1M39P7MO277FV on 2000-01-05
  Set in Kerala during the late 1960s when communism rattled the age-old caste system, The God of Small Things begins with the funeral of young Sophie Mol, the cousin of the novel's protagonists Rahel and her fraternal twin brother, Estha. In a circuitous and suspense--filled narrative, it is a story of decadence of a family with a hoary past, trapped in a time bubble (the time on the painted face of child Rahel's watch always reads "ten to two"). The bubble is tossed like a yo-yo by the great surge of events, ready to burst any moment. Nevertheless this steady, mechanical and almost pre-ordained process of withering, stirs up great passions, with its attendant ironies and pathos. In the end, we have a classic with a tragic grandeur, albeit of small things! "A story is a simple way of presenting a complex world and in my book I have tried to create a complete world carefully with craft and detail," clarifies Arundhati Roy, the author while talking to mediapersons.

  Things unfold in the Ayemenem House, now mossy, soaky and dusty, but once the symbol of pride for the Syrian Christian clan. Here, the characters inch towards their doomed destinies. Things culminate with the arrival of Sophie Mol with her mother Margaret Kochamma, to visit her `biological father,' Chacko. A stealthy jaunt, masterminded by her cousins Estha and Rahel, climaxes in her death by drowning. This incident, alongwith the exposed rendezvous of Ammu, the divorced daughter of the house with an low caste menial, lets loose all kinds of passions, rage, trickery and madness. Expulsions, separations and deaths follow, turning the place to a phantom of its old glory.

  The old house had a fatal attraction about it. Every character returned there -- defeated, deserted and drained by the big, bad world, where they had dispersed earlier. The parallel here is all too discernible to miss -- of the returning Malayalees from their "unhappy" working places in the Gulf.

  But once back to Ayemenem House, the characters are trapped -- just like the small bird in the Plymouth, which, unable to find a way out of the car, dies there. All these, seen through the innocent eyes of Estha and Rahel, give a coat of freshness to the narrative. The children's perspective, apart from the overdose of similes and contrived usages, sustain the readers' interests in the small things Lenin, the young son of communist schemer K N M Pillai, for instance, is described as `dressed like a taxi' because of his yellow shirt and black pants. Arundhati Roy's super sensitive antenna catches all the tiny details of her landscape -- and the thick, wet Kerala countryside has plenty to offer. The `farting slush' does not escape her, nor does the `funnel cap' created by mosquitoes over people's heads.

  It is not the story element of The God of Small Things that is its strong point, but the language. The language characterised by a strange cadence -- plenty of capitals, joined words and phrases, pranky childish distortions -- supports the jerky unfolding of the story. The narration too is not linear but moves back and forth in time, each chapter briefly touching upon what has gone before or what is in store. These techniques pervade the whole story, even in describing the poignant moments like Ammu's cremation, Estha's separation from his mother and his witnessing the police interrogation. "My thoughts and language are the same things," says Arundhati Roy in an interview. "The book is not based on research, but is about some very raw, private things. It is more about human biology than human history ---- our nature is capable of extreme brutality, extreme love," she adds. As she rightly said, The God of Small Things was `a work of instinct.' She was not searching for a story, `the narrative and the structure slowly revealed itself and the book was written `sentence by sentence.' Therefore, the reader realises very soon that he can't skip over passages: every sentence has to be read and reread to get the flavour of her prose.

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• Beautifull, Tragic, Ironic, Colorful
  By on 2001-12-04
  It seems everyone has trouble understanding the relationships between the characters. Here is a summary.

  Rahel and Estha are twins.
  Their parents are Ammu and Baba.

  Sophie Mol is an only child.
  Her parents are Chacko and Margaret.

  Ammu and Chacko are siblings.
  Their parents are Pappachi(Jone Ipe) and Mammachi

  Pappachi's younger sister is Baby Kochamma.
  Their father was Rev. John Ipe (Punnyan Kunju)

  Who should read this book?

  -If you enjoy reading a fresh style of writing that is
  breathtaking and acutely observant of the intricacies of life.

  -If you want to read a story of two innocent children who become
  the indirect victims of prejudices centuries old.

  -If you enjoy reading books that explore social views of a
  society and how that translates into the lives of everyone
  involved.

  Roy writes with a style so powerful and so imaginative you become drawn into the world of the twins, Rahel and Estha. Through their guiless, sometimes mischevious eyes, you observe and experience the story as it travels to its destined ending.
  
  

• Brilliant Tedium
  By AKMZXM4OXY8X9 on 2000-12-06
  I tried. God, I tried. After 50 pages, I sampled near the end of the book. The same.
  
  So I did it. I gave up on her. The author can write stunningly - but she writes as if answering one question: Just how clever and expressive can I be? She writes as if the storyline is only a tease for her 'where the hell is this going' descriptions.
  
  It made me want to go home and kick the dog.
  
  Update Autumn 2007: I picked it up this summer again and I finished the damn thing. I am stubborn sometimes.
  
  My assessment stands. A lot of work for little reward. This is a great book if you are never going to die - but for average readers who must account for their time, there are too many other excellent books whose authors write with the reader in mind, keeping them within a traceable arc of our common journey.
  
  
• Like reading poetry!
  By A3NSSFRT20WXZ7 on 2000-05-09
  Rahel and Esthappen are dizygotic twins, born of two eggs but of one soul. In Kerala, India, the twins' mother Ammu is raising them with the help of the twins' grandmother Mammachi, their great-aunt Baby Kammachi, and their uncle Chako. At the beginning of the story, Chako's young daughter Sophie Mol was found dead. From her funeral, the story moves back and forth in time to reveal the circumstances of her death and how someone that the twins loved by day and Ammu loved by night tore the family apart.

  At first, this book is impossible to absorb. Don't despair. Persist! Push forward until the story grabs you! The author's writing might seem fragmented and annoying at first. Later, when you figure out the action, the writing becomes lyrical. It has a beautiful rhythm and sound to it. This book might not be for everyone, though. My husband never made it past the first page! He kept repeating "It was just the language. I couldn't get through it. I couldn't read it." If you're willing to make it into the second chapter, I think you'll gladly make it through the whole story.
  
  

• An Amazing Book
  By A25ANKVMUP6WT3 on 1999-12-03
  "May in Ayemenem is a hot, brooding month," and so is Arundhati Roy's novel The God of Small Things. Imagine a cold piece of butter slowly melting in a frying pan, setting the scene for the cooking to come, and you can see the way Roy's prose works. Words that are hot and brooding reel you into an intricate web of family politics and social mores, evoking a feeling similar to a written stream of consciencness. Roy writes in layers, except that the layers are both added and taken off; I was reminded of my childhood when I would eat wafer chocolates from the bottom and the top, leaving the middle until last, because that was the best part. Roy kindly dispells the, often torturous, anxiety of what happens in the end early on in the book. The reader is told what happened before it happened, what happened after it happened, and saves what happened for last. A format that seemingly would put off a reader becomes its most appreciated quality. This book is for everyone; murder mystery, love story, epic saga all in one. Even if you're not the romantic type, the social scrutiny of Indian customs provides for interesting reading. However, if you're interested in brain candy, forget it. There is too much to absorb. Emotion and intellect are needed in order to understand the emotion and intellect that are related. You could take in only what is superficially presented, as the plot alone is worthwhile, but you would be missing so much. Rahel, a dizygotic twin returns to the place of her childhood and subesequently a place of unhappiness to see her brother, the other twin, after more than twenty years of separation. Esta, the brother, has stopped talking, and Rahel has stopped feeling. Their reunion allows for the remembrance and grieving of their disasterous youths. They recall small things, seemingly unimportant, yet vital to the reconstruction of their sense of inner peace. They are the same age as their mother when she died, thirty-one. Their house is run down and the only relatives left from the monster in their pasts are, in essence, only waiting to die. Entering their minds through an omniscient voice, we are transported back and forth in time, remembering small things, painting a big picture. We remember a cousin's accidental death, and the death of another who served as a scapegoat. We remember how fate can make the strangest families. We also remember Rahel and Esta, and how they "broke the love laws. That lay down who should be loved. And how. And how much." While the novel serves to shock the reader from time to time, the pace is slow. Roy's style would be described as somewhat verbose for the impatient, yet serves to parallel the way we deal with emotions, hurt, and love in life. Creating a paradox however, this reader went back to re-absorb certain elements of beauty or truth, due to a lack of time created by an impatience to find out what happens next. Although usually overly critical of fiction, I would recommend this book for anyone who likes to read intelligent literature. It gives the reader a chance to realize how profound those small things really are.
  
  
• a torture
  By A3SNG5ORFKIEOK on 2004-12-11
  If I didn't have to read this book for my English class, I would have given up after the first few pages. The writing is extremely showy. The author capitalizes words with Little Significance in the middle of sentences. This technique would be acceptable if it was only a few words but she sticks them all over the place for decoration. She also put excessive and many times pointless imagery all over the place distracting the reader from the content. I don't think that it would be exaggerating to say that half the book is imagery. A few times the imagery is beautiful but many times it is downright disgusting or pointless. For example, immediately following a descriptive urinating scene she has to say that the pee was like, "a yellow brook burble through a mountain pass." This made me imagine pee gushing down a mountain pass. Not exactly beautiful. An exceptionally disgusting part was when she had to write a little poem about the process of Estha (the boy twin) getting molested. Her attempt to show-off by writing a poem describing the process of molestation is distasteful at least.
  
  Another problem is her constant repeating of "important quotes." I heard the same thing so many times that I wondered if the author thought I was too stupid to get it the first time. This technique is good if used only a few times but once again; it was too excessive and caused the quote to become a cliché.
  
  In addition, she also has a tendency to stickmanywordstogetherinanannoyingway. This made the book hard to get through. This book sounds like a first draft.
  
  Besides technical issues, the characters in the book with the exception of Baby Kochamma and Chacko, are poorly developed. The twins who are suppose to be the main characters seem like empty buckets with no personality. It's kind of hard to be sympathetic to their misery when they barely show any emotion or admirable traits. One also wonders about the morality in this book since she condones incest between twins. The book also appears sexist in the repeating quote of "Mans Needs" and the portrayal of most men as wife-beaters or women oppressors. The only men in the book that were good guys were Estha and Velutha. However, both of these men are powerless and weak. This author basically whines and complains about all the horrible things that can possibly happen in society without offering any solutions. There is no silver lining. She seems more concerned with showing off her poor literature skills than the plot or the characters. Highly not recommended.
  
  
• If you like your literature challenging, tackle this one.
  By A16B8NF1CWWIH3 on 2002-03-01
  The first thing I would like to mention is that I am by no means a scholar when it comes to literature. I do, however, love to read books. I have my own particular taste for what I read, (mostly science ficiton and fantasy), but if a book is interesting and easy to read, then I believe it is worth looking in to. I read numerous reviews on The God of Small Things, and most of them had good things to say about Ms. Roy's book. Unfortunately I did not enjoy the book. I believe the reason that I did not really like it is because of my own personal views on the way a book should be written. When I read a piece of literature I don't want the text to be so confusing that I spend most of my time trying to figure out what the author is saying. It feels as though all of my mental energy is spent trying to piece together the sequence of events taking place. What the writer is trying to describe in his/her book should imbue itself on my memory for a short period of time, allowing me to immerse myself in the world the author has created; books such as Ender's Game, by Orson Scott Card, or The Lord of the Rings trilogy, by J.R.R. Tolkien. I did not have these feelings while reading The God of Small Things. There are parts of the book where one does get into what she is describing, like the march of the Communists around the "skyblue Plymouth". But there are not enough of these moments to suit me.

  I also do not care for the way Ms. Roy writes the story. I find the first few chapters extremely difficult to get through and understand. There are numerous flashbacks which go back and forth, back and forth, and it is very hard trying to figure out when things took place. One minute Ammu is alive and talking to Rahel and Estha, and on the next page she has been dead for years. It is the same with other characters, like Mammachi. There needs to be clearer transitions between time eras to help readers understand exactly when certain events take place. Another thing that irritates me is the way Roy strings words together. It is almost like a foreign language inserted into the text. Words like: "thiswayandthat", "wetgreen", and "sourmetal". Perhaps these words are her own way of trying to desribe things, but it just doesn't work for me. Along with the togetherwords is her free use of capitalizing words in the middle of sentences. "It was her idea that Estha be Returned" and "For a Breath of Fresh Air" are good examples. I am not sure if Ms. Roy does this for emphasis, or to describe the way the children think, or what, but it works about as well as the imaginaryvocabulary.

  Ms. Roy's tale does have some merits however. She attacks the Indian "caste system" and "love laws" in her novel, which to me is a good thing. I did not know how serious and harsh these customs are in India until I read The God of Small Things, and her story shows how evil the love laws and caste system are. Of course you must read through the whole book to understand all of this, and to see what happens between Ammu and Velutha....not an easy thing for me. As I have stated before, I am not a literary scholar. But from my point of view this book is too difficult to read to really be enjoyed. For those who like their literature challenging, then by all means, tackle this one. I do not recommend this book, however, to those who simply want a novel that is easy to read. This book requires a lot of time to read, and is very difficult to really understand.
  
  

• A Spellbinding Tale
  By A1STCUGKF4N5D7 on 2000-04-09
  The God Of Small Things, a novel by Arundhati Roy, is a tragic story that gives insight into the effects of India's political/social problems on the everyday family in their everday lives; the ways in which these problems can destroy both rich and poor. Through the eyes of a wealthy Syrian Christian family in Kerala, the dynamics of the Indian caste system are revealed, as well as the punishments for those who violate its rigid boundaries. Even those who claim to stand up for the untouchables, hold them back, because they greedily climb through politics to reach higher social status. The novel flips back and forth in time, which allows the story to unravel with much intrigue. The constant foreshadowing kept me wondering what exactly was going to happen, and how, and why. Roy's use of stream of conciousness allows the novel to come alive. It gives me a personal connection to the characters and a light hearted feel in some not so light hearted moments. Her vivid imagery makes it easy to invision the scenes, as if I am watching a movie. It allows me to completely forget that it is only a book, that there is no real reason to laugh, no real reason to cry. She also makes multiple allusions that give the novel a contemporary feel which made me realize that not all of India is built of poor tribes, but that there are in fact areas with reasonable amounts of technology and advancement. When she tells a story it is somehow magickal. It draws me in and leaves me spellbound. No matter how the family broke the love laws it did not disgust me; instead I somehow understood their feelings, even when what happened was against my basic values. It amazes me that an author could have the ability to catch me off guard and overstep my morals, and allow me, for a moment, to accept what I have always considred unacceptable. I finished the novel wanting to read it again, and wishing that I had written it. In reading the novel for a second time, it still took hold of my emotions and carried me through it with an equal amount of excitement and anticipation. Arundhati Roy truly reached with this novel her definition of a great story: "...the secret of the Great Stories is that they have no secrets. The Great Stories are the ones you have heard and want to hear again. The ones you can enter anywhere and inhabit comfortably. They don't deceive you with thrills and trick endings. They don't suprise you with the unforeseen.... In the Great Stories you know who lives, who dies, who finds love, who doesn't. And yet you want to know again"(218). The first time around the novel takes twists and turns and some actions can not be foreseen but all stories began that way, one day. Sometimes I pick up the book on any page and just start reading, just for a moment, to catch another glimpse of that other world which the novel holds. I get a second to stop and smirk or smile and feel wonderful things. Even though I know it, inside and out, I want to know it again. The God Of Small Things is truly an amazing work of art, sculpted from eloquent language and an amazing understanding of the human heart.
  
  
• A little bit disappointing for a Booker Price winning book
  By A3684EUAEHIV67 on 2001-11-25
  I picked up this book in Singapore when it was first released, while it was a lot of praise for Arundhati Roy's "God of Small Things" in the press. In the end this book won the Booker Price.

  The author has chosen an interesting approach to this novel. There are many stories in the story, and to confuse us even more the author chose a flashback narrating style. We enter the story in the 1990'ies as the young woman named Rahel returns to her village (in a small town in Kerala, in India) to be reunited with her twin brother Esthahappen (shortened Estha), whom she hasn't seen in many years. (That being said, the story in "God of Small Things" is set for the most part during the 1960'ies.)

  Two of the lead characters are the fraternal twins Estha and Rahel. They are bonded (unusually) close, so close that they think of themselves as "Me", and when separated as "We" or "Us", this to their family's great frustration. Told from the childrens' point of view, the story centers on the story of the twins' childhood, the tragic death of their English cousin, why Estha stopped speaking, to mention something, but not too much.

  There are many interesting characters in this book, and several of them has a great potential, such as Grandma Mammachi, Grandaunt Baby Kochamma, the handyman Velutha (another important character), Ammu etc. Unfortunately, with a few exceptions, few of them are very well developed.

  It is not often I almost put a book away (I have a thing for "must finish" what's been started), but this one I almost gave up. Arundhati Roy's prose and writing style is unusual, and I found it charming (in small doses) and I enjoyed this novel for its' prose more than for the story. I was never sure where the author was headed with the story. This left me confused. On top of that, I am sure that I missed some of the metaphors, as well. Come to think of it, the same thing happened when I read Rushdie's "Satanic Verses". Maybe it is just me not getting the Indo-English writing style?
  
  

• ....it's just called Bad Writing
  By A181NHONAGMDT6 on 2006-05-26
  This book is a sophomoric and pretentious read. I finished it through to the end to try to give Roy (and the Booker) a chance, but found myself audibly groaning at how cheap the authors use of language is. Consider the following excerpt from page 280 (note, this is only the first of three similies on this single page):
  
  "With every monsoon, the old car settled more firmly into the ground. Like an angular, arthritic hen settling stiffly on her clutch of eggs. With no intention of ever getting up."
  
  As I re-read that quote to type it here, a now familliar thought occurs to me again: Literary masturbation is *so* highschool.
  
  I jokingly told a friend that I would give him a dollar for every page of the book that *didn't* contain a similie and still be able to buy those Manolos I wanted. And when the similies are this forced -- the book is painful to read. Not to mention the Curious Capitalizations. The detailed descriptions of Gratuitious Molestations and Explicit Violence. (To borrow from Roy's writing, her:) Characters as shallow as a puddle in a grocery-store parking lot where wet bums collected and pissed on walls while society's good people were sleeping in their warm Safe Beds behind Locked Doors. The Choppiness. It's just.
  Bad Writing.
  
  The legacy of colonialism et cetera in an increasingly aware (and selectively apologetic) world contributes towards an unfortunate situation in the arts where priveledged Western institutions (and individuals, even) clamour to raise up and award voices of historically colonialized cultures. Often, however, the artist's status as 'oppressed' is far more examined than the work itself. (You know the syndrome: "Well, an Indian *woman* wrote it. And she's speaking out against the caste system...I guess it has to be good) This kind of behavior/thinking is racist, sexist, culturalist etc. and it pisses me off. The talented writers of India deserve better and the thought of anyone claiming that this hogwash be spoken of in the same breath as works by writers like Rushdie is dispicable and disgusting.
  
  
• Hum! Yawn....:(
  By A1OSQ72AX4S6VS on 2000-07-15
  Arundhati Roy's book is an amatearish effort and that is its greatest strength and weakness. For me, though the entire fare remained disappointing.The reason-- weak story line and characters. In fact every few pages a new character pops up and disappears. How it connects to the tale is left to the readers imagination. The first page begins with a similar description as in Alan Paton's "Cry the beloved country." After a rather evocative passage the story just flags off. And that remains the problem with all the chapters. Rahel and Estha the two main characters remain distant. Their father is shown to be a villain. It seems all these characters are drawn from the writers own life. But then she does not convey their lives well enough to the reader. So in the end you are left with a vague jumble of words. Better editing could have made the story more lucid. But I guess todays book sellers are concerned with marketing and not good stories! For an outsider there is some exotica in the form of untouchables of India. For Indians this is all badly presented stuff ! but then I could be an old fashioned reader who loves Vikram Seth, Doris Lessing and Coetze. Give them to me any day....
  
  
• a modern masterpiece on that ol' theme of forbidden love
  By AEMABFCZH2OW1 on 2001-03-22
  The numerous negative reviews on this one surprise me. I myself am afflicted with that gen-x impatience and irritation with self-indulgent prose and overwrought plots. But this book grabbed me and blew me away. The book excels in its radiant, poetic imagery and its sometimes quaint, sometimes devastating insight into humanity and society. But what sends it over the top is its exquisitely structured plot. The old analogy of peeling an onion comes to mind -- the story masterfully shifts back and forth from past and present, slowly revealing its tragic ultimate truths. Trust me: at the end, the genius behind the organization becomes perfectly, heart-breakingly clear.

  The plot shifts were NOT confusing or distracting, even for this MTV-generation reader. If anything, I agree with those thinking that the author makes it too easy to follow and lets on a little too much too early. This book does require some careful reading, or even multiple readings (generally, a good trait for books). True to the author's background in architecture, every detail counts and nothing is wasted. Which raises my only other minor complaint -- the author gets a little carried away with recalling and recycling every single image and detail. At times it borders on listening to that overexcited friend that keeps on bringing up the same old stories and inside jokes -- 'Okay already.'

  As for social commentary, this novel is par excellence. What better setting for another rendition of that old theme of forbidden love than post-liberation India. Gender, class, age, race. Tradition, Marxism, Decolonization, Anglophilia. 'Little' people caught in the middle of 'big' things. Those that don't see the scathing social criticism in this book baffle me. I guess if you don't get it, you just don't get it.
  
  

• Mesmerizing and poetic
  By A12TECTYSRJ3UR on 2002-05-28
  If you expect a candy coated fantasy story where everything comes out allright in the end - then run away. If you expect a book which will put everything into plain English and use correct grammar - then run away. If you expect a story that is morally and religiously proper, again, I plead you to run away.

  However, if you are inclined to read books which portray the reality and darker side of every society, then read this. I grew up in this land where Ms. Roy's book is set. What she speaks of is the truth, which apparently, many reviewers can't handle. Her style of writing is beautiful, unique, fragmented, and awesome. Time jumps back and forth, but any reader who's paying attention can easily keep track.

  I enjoyed this book partucularly due to Roy's inventive and creative style of writing and her sense of irony. At times the writing is so stunning, it'll make you wonder how a person learns to be so fluid and imaginative.
  
  

• Brillaint
  By A2UH9SD9593OS on 2000-05-02
  The God of Small Things, Roy's first book is full of new ideas and a writing style I have never yet encountered. She draws you on in her amazingly descriptive writing style and interesting use of sentences. The story itself is filled with humour, compassion, bitter cruelty, and shock, and makes certain that it reaches into your soul and rips out your emotions. The facts are not clear initially, as Roy jumps throughout time, back and forth; yet near the closing chapters all the facts fall into place and we become aware of the writer's brilliant craftsmenship at connecting time periods and details. The well-rounded characters develop through the harrowing circumstances in which they are involved, and it is obvious that Roy understands and includes the true natures of people, both good AND evil and one often has to step back from the book and marvel at how she cuts through all the layers of pretence and reveals what many people really are. Issues include Communism, a detailed and genuine potryal of India and the Caste system-and how it affects the characters of the book. I recommend this book for anyone seeking to read a book of true genius and genuine understanding of what it is to live in a world of prejudice and assumption.
  
  
• grossly overated and boring
  By A2EJUSD205RPNN on 2000-07-05
  I read this book with a lot of patience and hope! And as an Indian I wanted to believe that I was reading real literature. But frankly at the end of it all, it just seemed a trivial piece of diary writing. Again we should not always look for a linear flow of story in a novel, that is true. But then there should be something to at least sustain a readers interest. Here I could find nothing. The tale is set in kerala; Some, maybe most of the characters are autobiographical that much is obvious. And Arundhati is settling scores with her father and some relatives that too is clear. But a book definitely requires something more. And that is missing. What then explains the success of this novel? Clearly publishing hype, marketing strategies and Arundhati's looks. The real test for Ms Roy willo be her next book. You can write one autobiography and make claims to being a heavyweight writer. But the second one will reveal her true talents.
  
  
• the rest of you just don't get it!(& I didn't at first too!)
  By A1APSFE2GP36KE on 1999-12-15
  I agree with both the negative and positive reviews of this book - they mirrored my own frustration and then elation when I was reading this novel. At first read the style of the language is really jarring and it's as if Roy just wanted to show off her 'creativity' in using the English language but it only resulted in annoying and irritating me. However, as I progress through the book, at first carried by trying to figure out the plot (and finishing the book) more than anything else, Roy's language began to work its magic on me, and I finally came to appreciate how truly beautiful and eloquent her use of the English language is. If you put aside for a moment you prejudice against seemingly unnecessary caps and stilted short phrases, and just let the language speaks its truth directly to you, then you'll appreciate Roy's immense achievement in boiling down the English language into its raw essence. Certain imageries began to stick in my mind because of their potent power: like how Estha was holding an 'invisible orange' after the sickening episode with the Lemondrink man, and the phrase 'schoolteachershaped hole in the Universe' is rather apt. The story is also tremendously moving, and the ebbs and flows of tension tug unrelentlessly at the heartstrings. In all, for those of you who unwisely threw your book into the trash can, I would advise you to fish it back and give it a second try, this time just let its magic work on you, you'll be amply rewarded.
  
  
• sparse, falsely arty
  By A34RSH1TT2NZQY on 2000-08-20
  Being a big fan of Indian and Asian writings, I approached this book with a lot of enthusiasm and energy. However soon I found my interest waning. For Arundhati begins well but starts floundering by page 5. I started getting the feeling that the author suddenly discovered that she was onto a big book and wanted to make it arty as possible. So the story suddenly goes to the backseat. And in come gross and showy phrases. As someone said earlier this became style over substance. A simple story about twins in Kerala suddenly became complicated, complex and confusing. It is in parts an autobiography. In others just jumble of images and words. Sure there are signs of talent here and there. But, nothing warrants the hype. In fact some of the scenes inserted seem specifiaclly designed to show the critics that this is art and not plain story telling. For this false pretense I am tempted to give this one star...
  
  
• Isolated sentences of evocative poetry, mostly wasted breath
  By A226DFMNKO41U9 on 2005-01-17
  I am a bit puzzled by the critical acclaim piled onto this book. It seems well written in some respects, but it is also needlessly complex in its verbage and its time/setting schemes (half the time you have no idea what time frame she's talking about, often for several pages). Moreover, none of the characters seems particularly compelling or relatable, which in retrospect, I think might be its fatal flaw. You've got a complex array of eccentric and bizarre characters, but they never seem to really come alive-- least of all the twins, who are the two main characters. And however rich the language of the book may be, it's hard to get past the fact that you don't "feel" these characters; it feels like elegant, but wasted, breath for the most part. However, there is a noticable, but modest, element of alluring beauty in her sentences and phrasing, but more often than not, I did not find myself particularly engrossed in the poetry (although, in its defense, I didn't hate the hell out of it, as I often do with books in which the author needlessly overdoes it; case in point, William Faulkner's "Light in August," a book that bears more than a passing resemblance to this one).
  
  "God" is littered with the kind of writing that I suspect prize judges fawn over-- particularly the convoluted plotline that is easy to admire given its complexity and the apparent amount of time that was put into it-- but in my opinion it is not a very satisfying work for the reader in the "effort vs. reward" aspect; I didn't feel like I completely wasted my time, but I also wished I had spent this time on another, more rewarding piece of literature.
  
  
  
• I believe this to be a work to remember.
  By A91YY4W9MB3R9 on 2000-01-19
  I read this book on January 13, 1998. I read it again just last month. I haven't changed my opinion. I have read the 460+ reviews that followed my first nearly two years ago. I was glad to read all of the comments harsh or heralding. This book is not ordinary and I think if placed side by side with most others, may prove to be disappointing to many. So don't compare it to anything and read it for what it is.

  It is as awkward as the minds of each and every character illustrated in the 321 pages of the book. Nothing is simple or clear cut. Life isn't that way so why should anyone expect this book be neat and clean? It's not. In fact it gets down right ugly and dirty. That is the beauty of it.

  I think the one thing that amazes me with readers is their lack of patience. Intertwined with all the jumping between time references and all the unfinished points trying to be made, it is telling a story. Like a child who tries to tell their impatient parent about the six million things that happened from minute one of their day, this story teller attempts to give you all the information with as much enthusiasm and self importance. As with any child, the story teller will digress an infinite number of times before the events have been completely accounted for. Step out of your own ego long enough to be able to receive it. And be patient! There may be some painfully vivid discription of events. There are moments you will laugh. You may want to cry in anger or frustration and even stop reading but you wont stay away for long. You can't.

  If you feel any of these things after reading the book then the efforts of Ms. Roy to convey her story will most certainly have been a success! I don't think the story was intended to make a statement about Communism or even the caste system. What does a child know of these things? In India I saw children playing side by side with each other with little or no regard for political affiliations. It's just a story people. Enjoy the courageuous effort it took to tell it.
  
  

• Am I the only human alive who found this confusing?
  By A3RPXSPT67WTHO on 2000-08-21
  I am not about to recite what everyone else did about condensing the plot, but this was hard to get into..I put it down several times,but made myself finally read it since the comments on the cover were so strong. I made myself finish it and find it a most disjointed piece of literature. Roy obsesses with her personal language and capitalized words thrown in everywhere. I do not suggest reading this to learn about the subculture of India...a place where I lived and hoped to re-visit in print and instead found an self-possessed auther writing for her own audience of one. How this book received any award is beyond my imagination! Do not waste your time reading it!
  
  
• Significance of Small Things
  By A177RENQJIMMR9 on 2000-02-01
  This wonderful and outstanding book is a poem written in prose, a story of love and hate, of faithfulness and treachery. This is a novel about genuine affection and its price in the cruel world. Fourteen nights of love costed two immediate deaths and at least three distorted lives: does such a balance make any sense? An answer is etched even in composition of the novel. The last chapter of the book, its end and pinnacle, gives the answer: we see the fortnight through the eyes of a man and a woman who are in love, but who understand their doomed fate, and this makes every moment of their intimacy priceless. They discern the significance of the Small Things (even a life of a minute spider, a mute witness of their passion), they realize the meaning of Tomorrow. A cause of the tragical events is not the love that breaks all racial and social barriers but these barriers themselves and the hatred generated by them. Take care of Small Things of human delicate happiness in this still ruthless world, - tells us Ms Roy's beautiful novel, - and believe in Tomorrow despite everything.

  Influenced by William Faulkner, Ms Arundhati Roy's moving poetic style successfully supplements Salmon Rushdie's derisive 'magical realism', giving trustworthy picture of Indian life. 'The God of Small Things' is the first novel of the author and (undoubtedly) her great achievement. I wish her next book to be even better (though now I really do not know what can be better).
  
  

• 300 pages of beautiful and endlessly sad imagery
  By A35PLM0LLD0XM9 on 2002-03-22
  Don't let this book's packaging fool you: it is poetry. It is just over 300 pages of poetry, meant to be read aloud, set down, thought about, slept on, read aloud some more, and thought about some more. And when you're done reading it, you should set it down, think about it, and reread it.
  
  No one part of The God Of Small Things can be understood without understanding the rest of it, but perhaps a chunk from the beginning of the book will reveal some of its beauty and form. Read it aloud if you'd like; that's probably the best way to appreciate it. The quote is this:
  
  "Their lives have a size and a shape now. Estha has his and Rahel hers. Edges, Borders, Boundaries, Brinks and Limits have appeared like a team of trolls on their separate horizons. Short creatures with long shadows, patrolling the Blurry End. Gentle half-moons have gathered under their eyes and they are as old as Ammu was when she died. Thirty-one.
  Not old.
  Not young.
  But a viable die-able age."
  
  That quote is particularly apt, revealing as it does the poetic tragedy of the book. There is very little that is uplifting about The God Of Small Things, because nearly every image is surrounded by the knowledge -- which Ms. Roy plainly lays out early on -- that tragedy will befall the characters soon. As readers, we approach the tragedy with mounting horror, followed by something like resignation, followed by deep loss.
  
  The tragedies of this book are the tragedies of caste, of childhood lost, and of love destroyed. Outwardly, the book is the story of two twins and the broken lives that their childhoods yielded. To me, it is much more: it is a series of paintings in words, of a million small feelings and events from everyday life: the feeling of a lover's skin on our own, the thoughts that race through a child's mind, the desperation of adults who are trying so hard to hold onto the tattered remnants of their youth.
  
  The story is told in such a way that each painting appears for a moment, then disappears into a misty background. This, anyway, is how I envisioned it. Ms. Roy paints each Small Thing well enough that we can see it for ourselves, marvel at its beauty and truth, then move onto the next. It is some of the most sublime prose I have ever read.
  
  I know nothing about India, but the books I've read by Salman Rushdie and Arundhati Roy reveal it to be a land of almost bottomless sadness. It is a testament to their skill as writers that an ignorant man like me can see -- and more importantly, feel -- their heartache.
  
  
  
• A Stunning Novel
  By A38FMOF06QB8WX on 2000-08-30
  It amazes me that other reviewers said the novel was "immature", "confusing" and "falsely arty". The prose is wonderfully rich, neither false nor arty. It rings so true (as it should since Roy is from Kerala where the story is located) that the historical mix of childhood innocence and its loss, love (real and imagined), political violence, social and cultural taboo, familial abuse, and '60s nostalgia combine in almost surreal but ultimately logical (frighteningly so) patterns. Roy's switching between present and past works sensibly as people and events shaping the twins' thoughts and actions spiral closer and closer around them until they actually eyewitness the violent murder of their friend by the police and participate in the accidental death of their cousin. It was not until the end of the novel that I came to realize that The God of Small Things is only nominally about small things. Although the attention and allusion to small things is a constant and reliable theme throughout the story, it is, in the end, about very big things. I do not understand why some readers are put off by Roy's use of capital letters. I thought the capital letters, Estha's (the boy twin) backwards reading and other devises were extraordinarily effective in using childhood perception to examine adult guile. There are so many incredible and memorable scenes in the story -- the blue Plymouth stuck in the middle of a communist march, the horrible OrangedrinkLemondrink man at the movie theatre, the airport, the Kathakali dance -- that I'm certain I'll read the novel again which is not something I usually do.
  
  

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