The Royal Mob; by Theresa Sherman.

The title refers to what Queen Victoria used to call the collective royals of Europe, usually gathering for the weddings and funerals of royals across Europe, apart from visiting one another across the continent and in British isles for summers and more. She was called Grandmama of Europe, related as she was to almost all of them, in fact by the timeline this book begins, she was in fact grandmother to scores of them across Europe, some in line to thrones and going on to acquire them in due course, some being invited to take over monarchies of nations momentarily without a monarch, and so on.

As one reads this, one begins to realise this is centred on Victoria, Princess of Hesse and Rhine, not only because she was a granddaughter namesake of the Empress, and grandmother of Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh and consort of Queen Elizabeth II, but much more.

Princess Victoria married Prince Louis of Battenberg, a cousin of hers who was employed in British Navy, encouraged by her uncle Alfie (the second son of Queen Victoria), who was then Duke of Edinburgh, and she lived her life mostly in Britain, albeit visiting their homes in Germany and various relatives across the continent through years until it was impossible due to WWII. Reading about her life is reading about the history of those years, and persona involved, providing some information, some insights, and more.

But most important, to those that don't quite know the intricate web of the clans of royals of Europe, is that this family of royals of Hesse and Battenberg, related closely to one another before the weddings further bound them closer, was in their generation as much central to the royalty of Europe, as was Queen Victoria being the grandmother of about half and closely related to others too.

Victoria's younger sister Elizabeth married a Grand Duke of Russia, son of Tsar Alexander II, although their cousin Willy who went on to be Kaiser Wilhelm II wanted to marry her and did propose, and refused to meet the Russian royals or attend weddings in Russia when spurned by her for sake of cousin Serge whom she did marry; they were already related via his mother and further via his sister in law - Empress Marie the wife of Tsar Alexander I was Victoria's paternal great aunt and sister of her grandfather, while Empress Marie the wife of Tsar Alexander II was sister of Alexandra the then Princess of Wales and later Queen Alexandra of Britain.

And then the youngest of the sisters, Alexandra, although Queen Victoria wanted her to marry her grandson George, instead fell in love with and married Nicholas of Russia, son of Tsar Alexander II, and went on to be the Empress of Russia, which as we all know all too well ended extremely tragically for that family, Tsar Nicholas and Alexandra and their four daughters and the son who was the youngest and afflicted severely with the curse of the whole clan, haemophilia. Meanwhile Beatrice, the youngest daughter of Queen Victoria, eventually was allowed by her mother to marry Louis's brother as she wished, instead of the widower of Queen Victoria's daughter Alice who was mother of Victoria.

As if this is not enough, the third sister Irene married Henry, Prince of Prussia, brother of Willy the Kaiser Wilhelm II and son of their aunt the Empress Augusta Viktoria who was the eldest daughter of Queen Victoria. Further, Alice the daughter of Victoria and Louis Battenberg (later changed to Mountbatten) went on to marry a prince of Greece, related to Denmark and Russia once again since the throne of Greece had been offered and taken by the Prince of Denmark, the brother of Queen Alexandra of Britain. Another prince of Greece, brother in law to Alice the daughter of Victoria and Louis Battenberg, was married to Sophie, the daughter of Empress Augusta Victoria who was aunt of Victoria and her sisters - of all grandchildren of Queen Victoria.

There is more, of course, of the web of relationships so very involved. Having constantly referred to the short introduction table given in the first few pages throughout reading the book helps a little. More importantly, one realises quite early during reading that it was all personal to the clan, the quarrels of the nations, the wars, the revolutions, the murders of various relatives, and more. WWII saw the clan not only split forever in reality if not in heart, due to loyalties to their respective nations, but grieving personally at the various disasters, and unable later to meet or attend or invite the relatives across the continent due to the splintering caused by this war. British royalty and not just the Battenberg family were forced to give up their German names and take up English names, and that perhaps was the least, considering just how many relatives they mourned murders of, and later were unable to meet.

At the wedding of the now Queen Elizabeth and her bridegroom Prince Philip who was then newly created Duke of Edinburgh, for example, his sisters the granddaughters of Victoria and Louis Mountbatten were not invited, since they had married into Germany. This royals marrying other royals who were German and usually already relatives was not new, and in fact was facilitated, often encouraged by Queen Victoria for her own grandchildren; but times changed irrevocably post WWII.

One wishes there were a more detailed graph of the various relationships and people, but perhaps a book won't be enough, it would require a net or web that only computer graphics could do justice to - perhaps it could be on internet.

The Last Season; by Robert Joseph.

While one has always despised the snide and derogatory epithet, chicklit, and use of it, it is currently certainly much in use to describe a certain genre, and the genre is about lives of young women and their concerns and occupations, quite as real as those of males of older and cynical, sceptical age. One might like the genre and reconise its being based in reality of the lives of young women, and the genuineness of the writings that fall in this generally. Most of the books in the genre are about young romance, wistful young women, and while once they were about women cruising or attempting to occupy themselves at homes, own or others', now it is about work and balancing lives, and quite often about shopping, fashion, etc, something women aren't allowed to neglect without being thoroughly abused by society generally.

It is disconcerting though, to find a book called The Last Season, written supposedly by a male and not an adolescent young woman attending a writing course in a freshmen seminar at a college and encouraged by her professor to publish it because he thought it was good enough to be published and will sell well, and then read it and find it can only be described as chicklit - albeit with a background of looming WWII, holocaust and all. But so it is, albeit written grippingly enough, but then perhaps the gripping is due to the background. The writing level though does make one suspect it is written by a teenager, researching history and picking a background that would provide glamour, horror and adventure, to add a romance and voila, perfect confection. If only the writing were a bit more polished, thinking that went into this a bit more thourough!

Still, quite enjoyable.

Surviving the Holocaust: The Tales of Survivors and Victims; by Ryan Jenkins.

There is a phrase about judging the book by its cover, and it comes to mind as one is growing perplexed as one reads this book. For the cover shows a couple of very adorable toddlers with the six point star pinned or sewed onto their clothes, looking uncomprehendingly at the camera as normal children do, and the title is "Surviving the Holocaust: The Tales of Survivors and Victims" - so naturally one is led to expect a book telling real stories about those that survived, intimate details and tales as recalled by survivors, and the two kids on the cover in particular.

Instead, this is a very concise, very succinct documentation of the history of the Holocaust and its salient details, beginning with the German surrender and the attitudes at the time, and going into just how and where and when did the executions take place, with a few witnesses that were allowed to live so they were able to tell about it, despite Nazi efforts to the contrary, to cover up the whole massacre of millions. The numbers alone are staggering.

One of the effects of reading this is a surprising realisation about how one forgets one's own deep anger at those that wronged one, however just the anger - not because one subscribes to the doctrine of forgiving all crime and forgetting the victims, but because this horrendous account of what was done to humans by other humans makes one wish to distance oneself from any such emotion that would bring one into the realm of doing anything cruel to anyone even specifically known to be guilty, however they deserve it unlike the victims of Holocaust.

This is not to say one becomes pacifist saint forgiving all crimes and propagating such doctrines, opposing capital punishment for rapists and murderers and so forth, but that one wishes to distance oneself from any emotion that could bring one into the same realm as the sadists who perpetrated the Holocaust, generally and specifically. One could not, would not, belong to the same world as those that did the killings at Babi Yar or Auschwitz or any of the other dozens of places where Nazis exterminated humans - Jews, Roma, communists and other disseters, and more - in such horrible way, and felt superior. One simply could not, would not share in such horrors, not as perpetrators, not as one who even holds such an emotion!

And so it is a must read.

The Vikings; by Robert Wernick.

Perhaps more is known now about Vikings and the exploration of new lands via northern routes, than generally allowed to be assumed publicly, especially in US - children are still taught about discovery of the continent by Columbus as the first person to do so, which is incorrect not only due to the presence of humans on the continent - (which Columbus did not in fact step on, being at one of the islands of Caribbean, and returning therefrom after making his sailors swear they had in fact discovered India, which is the root of the US still referring to indigenous as Indian, knowing fully well that such name is a lie - those people had nothing to do with India) - but also because in fact Nordic Europeans, specifically ones referred to as Vikings, had in fact known about the lands across the ocean, and even had not only stepped on the mainland but lived there for many centuries before dying or giving up and returning, due to the lack then of mass migration.

As one person pointed out (wish one could recall precisely who and where, for reference), the fishing fleets of northern Europe were always venturing further out in the Arctic latitudes in search of more fish, and kept knowledge of lands across ocean to themselves for reasons of keeping their fishing waters from competition and overcrowding.

But the word was bound to be whispered about within the community, and so some were bound to land across ocean in the various new lands - Iceland, Greenland, and the main continent, which acquired its present name after the sailor Amerigo Vespucci only post a voyage after Columbus. The Vikings in fact ventured as far south as Watertown, MA, and traded from posts on the Charles river, as told via the Vikings tower at Waltham on the Charles river.

Wernick goes succinctly but quite thoroughly into history of Vikings as known, describing their society, their ventures into Europe and raids across various nations, conquests and establishing societies in various parts from Ireland, UK, Normandy and Rhineland to southern regions of the Baltic and more, before he describes their ventures across the ocean, which he does not as an amorphous group but with specific names of the people - collected from Vikings' own sagas.

Even apart from the information factor, this work makes for a delightful reading, due to various details of lives of Vikings and also of the new lands, or for that matter the European ones they ventured into. That it wasn't only lack of migration then, which there was little reason for not happening, but the more insurmountable difficulty of a Little Ice Age making the Viking colonies in Greenland difficult to sustain, what with the deep cold making agriculture impossible, and survival difficult.

Also mentioned is another factor - Eskimo migration from regions of Pacific coast across northern Canada to Greenland, and their being far more acclimatised to the cold and better at surviving in the land. Thus the Vikings were pushed out of Greenland completely, but survived in Iceland, albeit with numbers of Scottish and Irish migrants they had taken there as slaves but got integrated instead with, gradually, into a society that merged into one without slavery.

A lesser known fact - lesser for those not professionally historians is about Danelaw; and an amusing one is about how Vikings were defeated in Ireland despite victories in wars!

Ace of Spies: The True Story of Sidney Reilly; by Andrew Cook.

With a life and a character as fascinating, colourful, eventful as this, it is no surprise there are not only a plethora of books about Sidney Reilly but at least one television series - and what is more, films of a whole genre inspired by this character, and his style.

That the James Bond character was created based on this legendary man is the least of the enigma, so fascinating is the figure of this man veiled in mystery.

Born in Russia before revolution, his birth was another mystery, with an established well known wealthy family but a natural father so high up in hierarchy that when at one point he - the son - was assigned the job of toppling the Soviet government he was plausibly the intended figure to lead the revolt and take over in the name of a regime closer to the old monarchy.

He lived during a most turbulent time of history of Europe and the world, and while spying for more than one nation was also a businessman with flair, wealth he created and style he lived in attracting attention and more. He worked for various nations including Britain and Germany, with intrigues that had repercussions on Russia, Japan, Britain, Germany, and more.

Whatever one can find about such a figure of mystery is worth a look.
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And that was what one thought before reading this book, which is very different in spirit from some of the other works about him, the others being more towards what one wrote then, quoted above.

This work by Andrew Cook, however, is more of a  dissection of the legend and attempt to debunk all the mystery and the glory attached, if not outright denouement. Cook does not write a biography or even tell a tale as much as he attempts to dissect all the stories about Reilly, quoting carefully assembled evidence of papers and cables, letters and more, which finally amounts to a "not this, not that" but leaves one with very little except confusion - was Cook trying to destroy the mystery and the legend, deliberately, and to what purpose, since it does not provide a clear picture at all finally?

He does take into account the point about Reilly being a spy for some if not much of the time, and his having created a mystery about himself from the very beginning, with various stories - but only in that he mentions it all painstakingly, in midst of all the debunking of various legendary tales.

Surprisingly enough the one detail he is careful enough to mention is about Reilly having been sent for his final journey into Russia by deceit, by Boyce; this was someone who was supposedly working for the British intelligence, but as it turned out decades later, was a double agent and trapped Reilly deliberately sending him to his death - and that Reilly did not budge despite the best efforts of the captors, and did not give away any details they were not likely to know already or that could have been very important to them. In this he tacitly and almost openly admits Reilly having been the valiant figure as seen by most, after having shredded him through the book relentlessly.

After all, if Reilly was only after his own interests, clearly he would't have gone so silently to his certain death, just to protect the various people and organisations working against the Bolsheviks, which was after all then Russian government, would he? Far more profitable for a profiteer and selfish person to make a deal with his captors to the effect of turning into their agent, for example, and leaving Russia for a cosy life in Britain, surely? His manner of death as described by Cook ironically belies all Cook denounces him for.

The deceit of Boyce, and the fleeting mention of Kim Philby, in the context of this finale, makes one wonder about the author. One wonders fleetingly, having finished the book, whether this strenuous shredding of Reilly until the final chapter when his conduct post his capture exonerates him, is due to a casteist view taken by the author - after all, the repeated disdainful mention about his claiming to be a British national born in Ireland while in reality looking like a Russian Asiatic with Jewish and Mongolian features, does not escape notice. One wonders if this is why Reilly is being debunked in this work while the real double agents who conceivably did much to damage British and allies interests get but a mention at the end.

Or did Cook write shredding the Boyce, Philby and co too?
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Ace of Spies: The True Story of Sidney Reilly (Revealing History)
by Andrew Cook

Trust No One: The Secret World of Sidney Reilly
by Richard B. Spence

Sidney Reilly: The True Story of the World's Greatest Spy
by Michael Kettle

Britain's master spy;: The adventures of Sidney Reilly;
by Sidney Reilly

Reilly: The First Man
by Robin Bruce Lockhart

Ace of Spies
by Robin Bruce Lockhart

German Spies: Carl Von Ossietzky, Juan Pujol, Mutt and Jeff, Sidney Reilly, Fritz Joubert Duquesne, Alexander Parvus, Kurt Frederick Ludwig.

Inter-War Spies: Sidney Reilly, Gertrude Bell, St. John Philby, Boris Bazhanov, Erich Mielke, Yakov Blumkin, Ernst Wollweber.

Agent Double: Henri Déricourt, Aldrich Ames, Mata Hari, Anthony Blunt, Kim Philby, Sidney Reilly, Mathilde Carré, Ion Mihai Pacepa.

Japanese Spies: Sidney Reilly, List of Japanese Spies, 1930-45, Patrick Stanley Vaughan Heenan, John Semer Farnsworth, Akashi Motojiro.

Pre-World War I Spies: Robert Baden-Powell, 1st Baron Baden-Powell, Sidney Reilly, Mansfield Smith-Cumming, William Melville, Claude Dansey.

1870s Births: Sidney Reilly, Father Divine, Ma Barker, Albert Sharpe, Clayton Teetzel, Greenbrier Ghost, Auda Ibu Tayi, Charles de Saulles.

Espion de La Première Guerre Mondiale: William Somerset Maugham, St. John Philby, Mata Hari, Sidney Reilly, Louise de Bettignies.

James Bond: Sidney Reilly, James Bond Music, Bond Girl, Outline of James Bond, Gun Barrel Sequence, Inspirations for James Bond, James Bond Jr.

Double Agents: Mata Hari, Juan Pujol, Eddie Chapman, Mutt and Jeff, Donald Maclean, Sidney Reilly, Robert Hanssen, Radu Lecca, Aldrich Ames.

Espion Allemand: Wilhelm Canaris, Heinrich Von Kleist, Mata Hari, Reinhard Gehlen, Sidney Reilly, Violette Morris, Fritz Joubert Duquesne.

Reilly: Ace of Spies (TV Times special)

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THURSDAY, AUGUST 19, 2010
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My Single Friend; by Jane Costello.

This book would be really good without the conscious strewing about of some off things that seems these days to be something perhaps publishers and editors insist on having every otherwise readable book sprinkled with like decorative sprays of red pepper on a dish - but they ought to recall red pepper does not belong in every cup of tea or milk. Other than that it is a bit long or just unable to hold the reader.

Just after this I started on an Austen work, which belongs to early eighteenth century as for the time period the book describes, and is comparatively far less eventful. And yet it holds the reader unlike Costello's contrived fast paced and twisted tale, which was a bit of hard work to finish.

Austen was a young woman when she wrote, so why couldn't writers of today learn a thing or two about what makes for a good reading is beyond one's imagination.

The Encyclopaedia of Earth - A Complete Visual Guide: by Michael Allaby, John O'Byrne.

Even an a cursory glance at the book prior to purchase is impressive enough ( -hence the purchase in the first place!) - what with the part illustrating solar system and its planets and other fascinating objects before going on to Earth, our own planet. Then there is the geophysical parts and other about Earth. All in all a must in a home aspiring for well educated family, especially with growing children. In a school library, needless to say, it is indispensable.

As a matter of fact one might as well have children familiar with it when young, before they are corrupted by the peer cynicism against knowledge so very prevalent in some of the richer nations where being well informed gets a child bullied in school and a football jock or anyone capable of bullying is the object of worship, and tobacco-alcohol-and-co seem cool, partying a must and study merely a painful requisite for sat unless one has a cool career in hand such as a garage mechanic or a sport scholarship to push one through college all the way without any reading skills.

In parts of the world where knowledge and information are still valued, this book is a valuable addition to any home, any library.

Three Novels of Society The Country House, Fraternity, The Patrician; by John Galsworthy.

The Country House:-


One reads The Forsyte Saga trilogy, and wants more, and goes on to search out the rest of the tale about the characters one is so involved in by now, Irene and Jon most of all. Irene remains elusive and if anything more so than through the first trilogy, but one gets more of people related to Forsytes, and of beauty of England and some insights of social life and political state of the country and the world of that era. One finishes Forsyte Chronicles, three trilogies, nine books each of which is further three parts, and two in each trilogy connecting the parts. And one wants more. So one goes on to other writings of Galsworthy.

And one is not disappointed. Only, rather than go forth, one gets a view, an insight into how Forsyte Saga and Chronicles came to be the finished, polished, elusive portraits of the time and life veiled with a very English poetic mist wafting over the whole tale.

The Country House is set as the title would tell one in a country house, primarily, and the village life in general of that time, the mindsets still entrenched in the traditions and caste system of that time and place, but the people evolving at their own speeds of comfort.

A woman unwilling to live with her husband is at the centre of this work, with the peripheral people vivid as usual with the author. How her decision to separate affects people, how her involvement impacts on them, how they deal with the questions of divorce and involvement and questions of whether a woman may leave her husband and still be respectable, is the work.

There is the rector who is unable to deal with his wife's tenth confinement and the question of whether she will survive it, and with her contempt and pity for him hidden well until her moment of agony when she still smiles at him and tells him to go for his usual walk - and he never connects it in his conscious mind to his condemnation of the woman divorcing her husband for moral reasons. The opposite are the squire and his wife and son, each of whom deals with the same woman in a different way, but more humane and more civil. And the heartening part is, the husband she separated from is not automatically held up as free of guilt and full of innocence - rather, everyone including the rector is quite honest about how he is no better than the wife but merely has more rights to possess the woman since he is the man.

This admission of the skewed basis therefore makes them able to look at the whole question in a more honest way, and to go as far as he or she might with comfort with one's inner core, into the question of a woman's being a person in her own right rather than a mere possession and chattel bound and branded by her husband's right to her.

Not that these questions are now universally solved to satisfaction of justice much less satisfaction of everyone, especially those not willing to grant a personhood of a woman, but that era was the beginning of such questioning and thought in Europe. Tolstoy solved it by having Anna Karenina miserable with her choice of going away with her lover, unable to love her daughter by her lover, pining for the son she has by the husband she is unable to live with, and unable to feel secure in her love, committing suicide at the end symbolic of her choice of love over respectability of unhappy marriage stifling her heart - the choice that was a social suicide for her.

Galsworthy is kinder and more honest in that he does not attempt to satisfy all regressive or closed minds, much less authorities of the kind that attempt to rule personal lives by impersonal laws same for all, but rather shows a whole spectrum of people that deal with these questions in different ways, thus freeing the reader to think and feel and explore one's own heart and mind and thought, while looking at the portrayal by the author.

Thursday, October 17, 2013
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Monday, October 21, 2013.
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Fraternity:- 
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The Patrician:-
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Monday, November 11, 2013.
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Arranged Marriage (1995): Stories; by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni

Even without checking with the date of publication, this seems to be an early work by the author, going by content and the raw quality, and the germs of later works of hers one finds here. At that, the themes she explores later with a more wide canvas in other works are worth it, and some others one wishes as one reads she would revisit and explore more. The latter fits for example the separations and self discoveries that women come through, which might be a description of more than one or two of these stories.

Here she is looking at lives of women from India living in US, either having arrived as brides unfamiliar with all but rudimentary level of familiarity with English language and west and US generally, or a later generation culturally if not in time of women who are living in US as students, pursuing an academic life, and not quite separated from mainstream life there either, as the brides are.

The readership she might have found uncertain, in that most readers from US would find this only marginally interesting if that, since India in general and Indian culture in particular are baffling to most west and a facile attitude of derision or outright hostility are often easier for those not quite brought up to see good in others even if unfamiliar. Readership from India might have been equally questionable, on the whole, since the author is so courageous in exploring lives of women from India living in US, and dealing with intimate details of life. Few are really bothered or willing to see reality of these concerns, and most would call it a few names and leave it at that. So courage it must have been for the author to be open in writing about lives of women and their concerns, without objectifying them, as most people do in every corner of the globe.

One is glad she did have such courage and wrote.

Open Secrets: The Explosive Memoirs of an Indian Intelligence Officer; by Maloy Krishna Dhar.

First and mostly, one might be grateful for being able to read this account of three decades of life of the author as an intelligence officer, at all. That it was allowed to be published seems a miracle, and while India is not an iron curtain or bamboo curtain state, such an account published even from someone of similar stature in UK or US would be just as much a reason for a reader to marvel at being able to read about what goes on behind the veils of government workings and politics.

Not that the author exposes what must not be done, and he often enough makes it clear explicitly. Still, there is much in terms of facts not generally known to public as such, and even while one discounts for subjective opinions and feelings of the author, one is quite astounded and daunted reading this account. That makes up for the few shortcomings of the writing to begin with, even though one comes across them all the while as one reads.

One such not so serious shortcoming is about language and small mistakes therein, which a good editor could have corrected. For that matter often writings of this nature are helped immensely by use of a professional writer so it is easier to read, too, but then both or either of these would have detracted from the original purpose of the book, which was to publish the manuscript as it was written by the author and found by his son.

Amongst other details that emerge here enabling a reader to see the picture in detail, an important one is about how the party that ruled for most of almost seven decades played it for power by hook or by crook post Nehru era. Apart from politics played in various states, and especially in the sensitive border states, all the more so in sensitive border states of Punjab and in Northeast, one single but horrendous detail that stands out is re protests sparked by infamous Mandal commission report that the government in late eighties attempted to implement.

It was obvious to anyone who watched the protests in Delhi by young students that the first boy who supposedly immolated himself and died, really did nothing of the sort - he was desperately trying to survive and was not allowed to; it is unimaginable that his fellow students would do anything but save him, do everything possible to save him, so it was obvious something else was afoot.

Dhar tells the readers, categorically, about the Indira congress conspiracy behind this - how they had promised to save him, told him to wear three trousers which he did, and then double crossed him reneging on their promises to save him, by pouring fuel rather than water on him (reminds one of the Lahore fire department pouring fuel instead of water on Hindu homes during partition when their neighbours and general Muslim mobs set fire to Hindu homes); this callousness by congress about lives of innocent Indian citizens is not new in view of all Dhar discloses, especially re Punjab, even re intelligence operatives, but does somehow stand above, being about a hapless young boy unsuspecting about congress using his (completely unintended by him) death to return to power.

And since by this time the party was a single family rule, one loses any vestiges of sympathy for those that were then and have been since at the helm.

Of course the most horrifying disclosure comes at the end, shedding a very different light on a late prime minister of India who was known more for his learned persona than for a questionable act at any time. That Dhar was punished for what was a confusion and blunder of several other characters in the drama despite his altogether correct behaviour, both in interests of his nation and in terms of official proprieties, only horrifies one more.

But then this last one is only one explicit wrong committed by political needs is amply clear in light of the various security lapses allowed by the so called or self termed secular parties in sphere of national security and awareness re operatives of terror export nations infiltrating agents in India, both via illegal migrations with aim of taking over whole territories and terror strikes via official visitors who simply disappear in the nation due to laxity on part of authorities in various states tom-tomming their secular credentials, as directed by the political leaders of the so called secular parties.

In this larger picture and the specific last incident both, while some officials might be to blame such as the IB boss in the last incident who was far less than required for his post, most blame lies with the political leaders who direct and decide policies re intelligence and security, as is also amply clear from this account. If police and intelligence operatives were used by the said so called secular political leaders for spying on opposition and told not to bother the agents of the terror export nation, they cannot be much faulted for towing the line in interest of their families' security and well being, and not wishing to be threatened physically or terminated wrongfully.

One surprising little detail one could mention is about how this author, like Guha, another of his community - Bengali - who is officially a historian, is about how both are so surprisingly so incorrect in something one would expect any Indian with a bringing up in India, and all the more so a Hindu, to know better about.

Both these well educated people state Krishna as being from Gujarat, which in light of how steeped in Krishna lore India is for millennia, is astounding. But Dhar had another surprising lack of awareness regarding the epic Mahabhaarata, which is that he does not recall  Naagaas or Nagas being mentioned in Mahaabhaarata - and he should, since one of the most favourite names for a male in Bengal is Paartha or Paartho, a name of Arjuna, who was married to Chitraangadaa, a princess of Bengal (from Manipur as going by lines on map of today). She was the third wife of Arjuna, and the fourth was Uloupie the princess of Nagas or Naagaas, known also as Naagakanyaa or daughter of Naagaas. This relates to the word Naaga, understood throughout India to mean serpent or snake, worshipped generally but more specifically on Naagapanchamie, a festival day allotted to them.

And yet, Dhar seems to think the term or name Naaga has quite another meaning, related to a sect of monks - wonder if he is the only person so confused or there is a general confusion in Bengal? Then again, it might be that a background of East Bengal is the reason for this lack of comprehension re the difference of the two meanings of the word Naaga, one an ancient meaning and used all over India while other (related to the monks sect) more of a recent one, due mostly to reverence for the monks making India unwilling to use the precise word for naked and instead using a word similar but meaning snake.

On the whole a must read for anyone remotely interested in India as defined by the political boundaries of today but India as defined and understood since antiquity, which is the region in general.

Flood of Fire: (Ibis Trilogy, #3); by Amitav Ghosh.

But for the small and completely unnecessary part where the author decides to go explicit beyond necessity of the tale into the nether personal details of his characters, either because his publishers like many others of the day thought this was a good way to catch those readers that won't read the book for its worth, or because at this age the author has second thoughts about being clean, whatever the reason that brings this book for a while into level of disgusting and questionable - at that point one isn't quite certain the writing will ever recover from the level it has sunk to - but for that part, this book would have been worthy of being rated excellent beyond par, in bringing out so much of history mostly ignored in traditional history as taught in most places.

At that, one is taken aback when in the epilogue the author mentions that further history would need a dozen more works from him to go into the diaries and other documents brought out by the descendent of Neel, and it might be the first inkling one is given that the whole tale might just be all about characters that in fact did exist. One does take it for granted that most of the better known ones were in fact historical, as are the various details about the opium wars UK imposed on China for sake of being allowed to sell opium which China had legally banned, but one is unaware for most part during reading the trilogy that the minor characters were just as historical.

About how one feels, there isn't much doubt - one applauds the emergence of a woman from home to the world; one pities the seemingly white Reid forever in danger of being discovered as officially identified "black" in manifesto of the ship he began on from US, even as one is revolted by his revenge for being spurned by the woman in love with another, and is finally glad he is likely to find redemption in love of the excellent Paulette Lambert, the botanist; one is forever on tenterhooks wondering if the author is going to have a father and son unwittingly on opposite sides of the battle a la Rustom Sohrab, and glad that such an event doesn't quite take place, despite it being imminent most of the time, and that they meet and escape safely; one weeps for the tragic love story of the young couple, Mrs. Burnaham and Captain Mee, that was separated because he is too low a caste for her parents, who meet again half a world away and end so tragically only because they are in fact both good, far better than those close to them that did survive such as her husband and his partner at the end who was the catalyst in the two deaths; one is glad Kalua or Maddow Calver is alive, and is able to save Kesari Singh the elder brother of Deeti, who is present in the tale albeit not physically, but live and well half a world away; one is taken with pity for the unfortunate half Chinese, half Parsi Ah Fatt renamed Freddie Lee, with his Parsi name mostly forgotten after his father died, pity evoked for him for most part in spite of his not always being good, or innocent - he after all did trap Reid; and so on.

But more than anything else this finale of the trilogy is important in giving a good picture of the geopolitical realities of the era, in how China was beleaguered with western onslaught in name of freedom of trade, how poor from India were used not only as workers and bonded labour for British enterprise but also as poor soldiers - never quite on part with their "white" counterparts - to battle, kill, put down poor of other nations in Asia, and hence forever hated by those they were used against; and more.

The author does specialise in bringing history to his readers in a story form, but the trilogy is definitely his crowning work.

India Remembered: A Personal Account of the Mountbattens During the Transfer of Power; by Pamela Mountbatten.

Most of this is quite familiar if one has read the author's biographical account in 'Daughter of Empire: My Life as a Mountbatten'.Up to one third of this book is almost verbatim in that one, with few differences, and latter part too is familiar from having read that, albeit being a bit more detailed here.

The main charm here is entries from diaries verbatim, although it doesn't mean one is reading entire diaries of course, and even more so, photographs of various towering characters of that era, not seen often elsewhere. There are some nice ones of Jawaharlal Nehru, of course, and a couple deserve mention - one of him pensive, and another where he is at tea with the author's mother Edwina Mountbatten with his daughter and her (presumably elder) son, thus one looking at three future prime ministers of India amongst the four figurers seen. Indira here looks very young, shy, smiling, and more beautiful than most professional beauties of the time even without any make up or any expensive attire or decorations.

Pamela Mountbatten's account is valuable in many other ways too of course, in that one reads about various important events and about people of the time. For example one reads of and too sees in the photographs the crowds at various occasions, too thick to allow the dignitaries to walk without walking on sitting people and yet all calm, friendly, non threatening - as also the author mentions repeatedly. The charm and friendliness of Gandhi and Nehru, beloved figures in India, and the cold persona of Jinnah impervious to any friendly overtures, focused on his aims.

Pamela Mountbatten repeatedly attempts to balance her and her family's love of India against accusations by various sources (chiefly from Pak and US) about paritiality, but fact is their love for India was for all of India, whole of which included the parts that were then cut off to divide the nation to provide another new nation for those intolerant of living with people of other faiths. Whether from Mountbattens or from leaders and people of India, there never was any dearth of love for people thus separated from India, even when there was dire opposition to the idea of dividing the nation.

The author minimises the account of sufferings of refugees they saw in camps, mentioning but not going into the heart rending tales of what they suffered, but the photographs seen of devastations in Lahore and other parts of Punjab tell the tale silently. The streets obviously lined with tall homes of the prosperous are reduced to resemble archaeological discoveries of ancient times and one can only imagine the travails of the people driven out by the massacres in the photographs of the visit by Mountbattens, even though no suffering ones are seen - that is taken care of by the authorities, evidently, before allowing the visit.

Pamela Hicks, nee Mountbatten, is very sensitive to various accusations against her father as the last viceroy, for example the accusation of haste of withdrawal without caring for the human devastation left behind, made amongst others by the author of Shameless Flight, and presumably others, possibly only from those from US. She reasons that without such haste in handing over power, the devastation would have been worse - which neither can really predict, even with hindsight.

What is undoubtedly true is the devastating account of the massacres let loose by order of Jinnah in Calcutta on 16th August 1946 in the name of Direct Action Day, to remove all doubts from minds of leaders of Congress and from the British about what his intentions were if his demands of a separate piece of India were not given to him wrenched away from mainland of India. She mentions the number of massacred at 20,000 during that day and couple of days on, and this was without guns, chiefly with knives. Until that massacre Congress and indeed most of India was against such division of the ancient land, separating people, neighbours, families - but this massacre and the unspoken threat delivered by this massacre of more to come if the demand by Jinnah were not met, broke the resolve of Gandhi and others, and they gave in to the partition that then resulted in not only a million deaths by massacres but ten times that many rendered homeless, driven out of their homes and lands and regions to cross borders for sake of life. What the result would have been if the demand were not met is anybody's guess.

But those that know more and are not bound to cover for sake of various political reasons speak of this whole idea of partition being born or at least coming to reality during days of WWII when Berlin was occupied by Red Army, and Churchill realised need of a strategically posed military base in a nation that would allow this, for sake of what is termed The Great Game, which was the tussle of European powers for world domination and mainly about the play in west and central Asia. India led by a non partisan government was not about to allow military bases to be used by US and UK for attacks on USSR, which Jinnah had no problem promising - hence, in those immediate days, the partition of India.

Now of course it ought to be obvious to anyone not blinded by needs to prevaricate that this is what inevitably resulted in the now so horribly far from containable genie of terrorism, let loose over decades by the new nation created for purpose of war against an ancient one by breaking up another ancient land. That this terrorism was going to bite those that created it ought to have been obvious to anyone not blinded by preferences driven by skin colour seems obvious to those not so blinded, of course. That such preferences often get buried under equally silly preferences for monotheistic and preferably conversionistic faiths is sign of even more convolution of thinking.

As is of course the bias setting up one gender superior to another in humanity on basis of ability to physically overpower, which logically extended sets up buffaloes over men, as does defining male superior by virtue of organ set up male donkeys superior to human males. But then few are really used to question assumptions concrete in society, need of comfort of being with others being paramount to social animals.

One of the endearing factors about this and the other account by the author is the evident love of hers and her parents for people across such dividing lines in humanity, and coming from a family close to royals then ruling empires girdling the world, this is all the more special.  That she mentions India returning this love without reservations, and her realising and mentioning how much more special it is in face of the hardships endured by various people, is all the more so endearing.

The Enemies of the Idea of India; by Ramachandra Guha

The author attempts to play safe, a la television channels in US giving equal time to both sides, which has been attempted not so successfully in television in India - for example in a case of rape and murder the anchor might give equal time to both sides, and this can be made to look like the victim's side is being vindictive while the criminal being forgiven is the only way for you to be not papally disapproved and be set on par with the rapist and murderer, unless of course you can be set below for not having felt guilty of everything and begged for mercy - which no one demands from the murderer and rapist a convincing demonstration of, especially if he is being tried, or was convicted for a couple of years.

Guha thus holds people and parties guilty of seriously injuring interests of nation and responsible for massacres on par or not quite as guilty as those that would hold that majority of India is not slave and beneath respect for eternity, having committed the crime of being ruled rather than convert en masse or be massacred as per demand by the rulers from other cultures for over a millennium.

As usual with people who label or accept labels without thought, he too identifies Hindu with traders and right wing, never mind majority is poor or desperately poor, and more. This label has a very convoluted sort of reasoning - leftists of India had gone over a to set up across to the separated part of India set up then as the nation for those intolerant of living with people of other faiths, thus identifying leftists with muslims, and anyone whom muslims would not live with as therefore right wing. This further is used in labeling or identifying all those as not only right wing but also as business or more disparagingly as trading community. That the so labelled communities whether Hindu or Jewish or western in general have also intellectuals, great thinkers and philosophers, inventors and scientists and writers and music maestros and artists of all sorts, is ignored, since the only criteria is whether you are a killer and marauding looter or merely a trader. Values are thus set topsy turvy in all thought and discourses from those that hold terrorism as a superior creed.

Guha holds, like all good kids so labelled by their education oriented to west rather than within the nation, that India is an idea, and without saying so explicitly seems to drive the reader to conclude that it was an invention of those not of India but looking from anywhere else, and that those of India have no choice in that matter - thus negating the reality of the nation he does not exactly deny belonging to but deprecated at all levels.

So it is almost a small corollary that invasions, massacres and looting by invaders, forced conversions at knife or sword points held to throats, and enforced slavery in all but name, et al - suffered by those indigenous that would not convert - is all a non sequitur pretty much as wages of slave labour denied to slaves and their descendents in US are held non sequitur in all but explicit statement; Guha goes with labeling all those invasions, looting and massacres under the seemingly non invasive, almost friendly term of "cultural impact", as if those invading and marauding and massacring and more were no more than stones set hurtling down by an avalanche, without any will or thought or guilt, no more to blame than an el nino or el nina. He denies humanity to them in the process, perhaps unaware of this, as a consequence of holding them not guilty of their actions as full adults but ascribing to them an innocence one might ascribe to the landslide or earthquake.

He, like another author from his region, surprisingly is halfway ignorant of his heritage and nation to a degree and context very unexpected - he mentions Krishna as one from Gujarat, never mind India steeped for millennia in stories and songs about Krishna, in literature and music and homes - favourites among tales told children by parents and grandparents - and completely saturated with the lore of origins and childhood, even young adulthood, of Krishna being of ancient city of Mathura and its immediate neighbourhood, while the coastal city of Dwaarakaa in Gujarat (and its ancient version discovered submerged in ocean off coast) are credited to Krishna as having created for his kingdom, after he migrated with his people to avoid a civil war that would kill thousands of innocents - which was ultimately forced anyway, on the good people willing to live in peace, by those intent on swallowing the whole, pretty much as WWII was forced despite all sorts of concessions by all attempting to placate a central power intent on swallowing Europe and the world, both times aims being to end civilisation.

Guha wrote this as an essay in a weekly that is not unknown for such disparaging writing about India and her own, but this fact is only given at the end, rather than in the information about the book - which isn't really a book at that, merely a piece of propaganda that fails in facts.

One major failure is unexpected of someone officially a scholar of history, namely, his assertion about someone being Indian, while facts of legality are otherwise. He can simply brand those pointing at facts as being communal, intolerant et al, but fact is he is either a shoddy scholar or is lying, as are those making this particular assertion.

But in this case, while one can easily understand someone - anyone - trying to hold on to a citizenship of a seemingly safer part of the world, especially when not related to India except by marriage, falsifying it by claiming that marriage amounts to citizenship whether accepted or not by the person is simply rubbish. Which is not discordant with the essay parading as a book, either - it is garbage mixed with some not so much garbage and covered in sauce so mix is concealed decoratively. 

The Viceroy's Daughters: The Lives of the Curzon Sister; by Anne De Courcy.

After reading Sheila by Robert Wainwright and then Daughter of the Empire by Pamela Hicks about her life as a Mountbatten, this one is more about life of the upper caste set in England, with a lot of same names and the same general lives of theirs in that era, of parties ad cruises and affairs and so on, especially when it came to heiresses and other rich women - household and children concerns were taken care of by professionals, with little personal contact generally between parents and children, and adults who did not have enough to occupy them being on the whole wasted leading lives of trying to find pleasure and excitement, and so on. This waste of life wasn't limited to women, one way or another - men were often just as wasted, as exemplified by more than one character in the society described in the three books. Thus Sheila's first husband, Lord Loughborough, wasted his life in gambling and so forth, while others described in this book or the other two conducted affairs and did little else that could be construed positive so as to set off against the negatives.

But this book goes more into details of the personal lives, problems, details of relationships and unhappy lives, not only of daughters of Lord Curzon but generally of the whole set, and makes one even more disillusioned with any thought of money bringing happiness by setting one free of cares and worries. What's more, it goes further, to bring one to despise several characters central and peripheral - beginning with Curzon who stole his daughters' money, especially the eldest one Irene, and then severed relationship with her when she eventually demanded probity of accounts, and all this not because he wished to save them from spending at young age and so forth, but sheer selfishness to the point well beyond theft. He gave much of their inheritance away, including the personal jewellery willed by their mother, and the monies from their mother's father, to his second wife, only to be cheated in almost every way - she not only had another lover, but managed to avoid him most of their married life, by travelling to another place wherever he happened to be, and writing to the effect that while she missed him the children were happier in the other place.

Not that she didn't repeat his mistakes at that - having taken the girls' inheritance, and kept most of the houses and castles Curzon kept buying with their money, after his death she gambled it away by heeding her lover's inclinations, and was reduced to economies too!

And this pattern, of the virtuous coming to grief and being ill treated by those that are not so virtuous, repeats in the lives of the daughters too - Irene leads and independent life and uses much of her life for works of charity, and takes up caring for the children of her sisters, while the youngest one goes about merrily with several love affairs conducted simultaneously with various members of their set of society of aristocracy and glitterati and so forth, and is not just thankless to the elder one but positively abominably rude, over years - and this is indeed inexplicable except when one realises that it is based on the caste system imposed on (and accepted by most) women, that of married and young and sexy being always the ones that get away with any despicable behaviour while those not married are used, looked down on and treated abominably.

Divorce being seen as taboo in such social system where affairs conducted discreetly are seen as norm, and by discreet it doesn't mean secret and unknown but not seen explicitly in public, is about as hypocritical as impeachment of a president of US for an affair, or the muck thrown at Charlie Chaplin for that matter for an allegation of a child out of wedlock. Still, this was the way they lived then, and perhaps a lot many societies still do too - Princess Diana was after all denied the HRH title post her divorce, while the replacement merely has a lesser than Wales title.

This being the state of west, one can only set the graph of other social systems as amount of distance they keep from stoning of those women that are independent, wear clothes not prescribed by the particular region or not necessarily hold every male as one to simper and kowtow to. Most societies, such independence and daring to hold oneself human on par brings a woman brickbats from men and women alike, not all but most, unless she happens to be of what is perceived as "upper" strata, by power and wealth and race.

And Irenes of this world die lonely.
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The real shocker to those unfamiliar with the facts before reading is about Mosley - and about how close the social set skirted to fascism, despite knowing it won't do, not in England. Even in personal life he is one of the most unsavoury characters and one wonders how and why people put up with such conduct, his using his wife so ill and even apart from affairs galore, being a wolf in the sense of hunting women for the sake of power, and being a true successor to Curzon in stealing the money in that he uses homes and money paid for by his wife's fortune for his purposes, plans to deprive his children and insists his sister in law pays for the home his children live in! And yet, even post several instances of his misbehaviour, his paramour and the younger sister in law uses her influence with various males to get him a better deal with his imprisonment, even getting him free!
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But for Irene this book would leave a reader completely disgusted, and her having to play subservient to Mosley or Alexandra Metcalfe despite their ill treating their very loving and nice partners does not leave a good taste either.
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Daughter of Empire: My Life as a Mountbatten; by Pamela Hicks.

Having just finished Sheila by Robert Wainwright, this comes as a pleasant surprise, unexpected because one would think British upper caste is all about stiff upper lips, reticence, et al - and who is more upper caste than descendants of Queen Victoria? And Wainwright was all so very correct and reticent, which while being entirely proper was a bit tiresome, since the life he described of the rich and aristocrats of England and related parts of the world - which encompassed half the globe, at that, what with British empire and Europe, and US glitterati too, seemed all about partying and so forth.

But this one is very different in texture while still being entirely proper too, very readable and very enjoyable. So if Pamela Mountbattern did not have help of a professional shadow writer to trim this, at the very least, then she was remarkably good at writing, which is not as surprising if not famous, what with her descriptions of how intelligent and active her mother was, even apart from the royal family regimen of active life.

One of the positively reassuring little factors in this book is the conclusion of the daughter about her mother's relationship with Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru being entirely within the intellectual sphere and platonic, which might have had strong affection and attachment but not a physical intimacy component, and definitely not more than what is decently admissible in public. This is believable not only due to her reasoning - they were always surrounded by people and had no possibility of privacy - but also due to her candid descriptions of her parents conducting their separate lives and travelling with or being visited by their respective paramours as a part of extended family, and their acceptance of one another's privacy and needs. And while from another "white" source such an assertion of a relationship being non physical might make one wonder if this was for a different reason, on reading this book one generally must conclude this wasn't so. Mountbattens as family did not support racism and reacted emotionally disapprovingly to such expressions in their hearing, according to Pamela Mountbatten - and her father understood the need and value of Nehru in his wife's life and found it freeing him from worrying about her, too.

Several times in reading this one breaks into smiles or chuckles or more, for instance the stories about the various exotic pets from various corners of the world they brought home as gifts or by choice, or about the family stories related to various cousins, which included the royals, not only of England either but of most of Europe. Pamela's grandmother talking about Willie casually, and her explaining when the mystified would be new member (fiancé of the elder sister Patricia Mountbatten) asked who Willie was, that it was "the Kaiser of course", is just one such fun little story.

The Bell Jar; by Sylvia Plath.

Not an easy read, especially post the New York part, and even in that, but perhaps one needs to be a bit familiar with social fabric of US and history thereof, where women at this period of time had not quite achieved parity (not that they have now, it is a curve sometimes closer to the asymptote and then again slashed back viciously by corporate interests), and while they were able to attend college and thereby expected to do brilliantly and also confirm to stereotype expectations anyway, but were often treated somewhere between callously and viciously, as indeed in most places with Judaic and especially church of Rome dominated or worse, that of complete veil or stoning to death cultures.

This book was probably one of the first to bring home to most people the fact that a woman could not only think but do so in a very erudite, complex, sophisticated way, and yet have sensitivity and more. Most works moreover dealing with the social phenomena of throwing unwanted women in mental asylums, or with mental breakdowns of brilliant people of either gender, deal with it from outside, and this is one of the inside views. 

Sheila: The Australian ingenue who bewitched British society; by Robert Wainwright.

Sheila: The Australian ingenue who bewitched British society; by Robert Wainwright.


One begins with an intriguing opening about someone elderly arriving home after a lifetime spent across the world, in glitterati society as someone who takes it all naturally, and yet is more regal in spite of being very natural, very casual about it all - wondering if this person was real.

It is a bit disappointing to realise this is a halfway compromise between biography and gossip chronicles cleansed with hints of alliances but more details of who attended what wearing what, not because one wishes more gossip, rather the opposite - because one was expecting more in depth about the world as it was during the era. After all this person lived in very interesting times, and being disappointed with the book halfway through when it has arrived slowly to just before beginning of WWII is no mean achievement in being a court appointed cleaner of royal reputations.

Of course, it could become suddenly interesting, but seems doubtful going by what three quarters of it has been so far.

Wonder if this author is related to, or same as, the person who tried to put across a face saving "they were applauding the song, not the speech" despite truth being observed by the whole world (and as it was watched on live television, too) obviously to the contrary?
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Friday, May 13, 2016.
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Funnily enough the relevance comes through at the end when it is mentioned why the author took up the project at all - it was an elusive reference to Sheila in a biography of the king, her friend of many years during youth when he was Prince Bertie, along with the then Prince of Wales - it was clear that the mention of Sheila was rare because she had been a chief love in life of the then prince, which intrigued the publisher and thus the book proposal. The author mentions just how difficult it was to find material about this person so elusive on fringes of so many glitterati lives, and that the book was only possible because the material was made available by the various sources.

But the book does become interesting, as expected, in the last four tenth or so part - partly it is due to the WWII and post WWII world, and partly it is due to her finally finding peace with a Russian prince in exile, Dimitri Romanoff. He was introduced on the first page, but came later in her life as a main figure.
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Wednesday, May 18, 2016.
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He That Will Not When He May; by Margaret Wilson Oliphant.

Very surprising one finds oneself reading this book, in that this author is not as well known as deserved for sheer quality of writing. And she supported her three children with her writing, which amounts to her being not insignificant in her day, which was just over a century ago. Why her books are not as well read as those of Jane Austen, Bronte sisters or Galsworthy, cannot be only due to some similarities in writing, thinking or themes - Galsworthy came after, for one thing.

Her social setting and thought is generally reminiscent of Austen, while the era is more of or closer to Bronte sisters, what with the West Indies adventures of the younger sons and complications arising therefrom due to entailed estates, needs of younger sons to find a livelihood and possibly also an advantageous match, which if happened abroad didn't always go well with the younger sons so wed abroad returning home due to change in circumstances.

This work deals with difficulties of such marriages abroad with a different facet thereof, albeit reminding one of Jane Eyre. Funny part is, it is Jane Eyre that is more of romantic in comparison, while this one is more realistic in almost every way.

And yet, in a style with not so bold strokes as Charlotte Bronte, rather closer to Austen in plain but a bit subtler, closer to Galsworthy, the author here brings contrast of the two sons vividly home, with one brought up to expect nobility and riches and estates and more, playing with socialism and equality seriously until he is brought face to face with never having had any right to what he was so easily willing to or at least declaring he would throw away for sake of social equality, while the elder who quietly but emphatically asserts his rights to his place yet being noble about sharing everything with his new found family and reassuring them over and over about how he intends to cherish them, and doing so. Paul is tall and looks the part, while Augustus is short and looks like his dad, but it is Sir Augustus, not Sir Paul, and long after having finished the book this point remains like a subtle fragrance lingering.

This is even more emphasised with the mother of Paul, the good looking and amiable noble lady, melting all her objections to a match for her daughter when it is mentioned that the very desirable but unfortunately lacking in gentility of lineage suitor is extremely rich.

The political thought of the author is closer to Galsworthy, however, with questions of rights and castes of Europe taking for granted their privileges or deprivations for the most part, and this author is possibly less subtle about it.

One wonders,naturally, having read this author and others similar who are good but comparatively lesser known, if fashion forms a part of popularity and critical judgement of worthy critics either falls away or falls short in presenting readership with a plethora of decent works by good authors.

Before We Visit the Goddess: by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni.

This is an amazingly woven together tale of four generations of women, that looks to begin with as if it were stories barely connected together via characters, but comes together surprisingly towards the end, surprisingly not only in the way it does after meandering all around like a river in no hurry to flow to the ocean and takes its time turning around every which way, but also because by then one had given up on almost the most endearing character - and too, the way it becomes suddenly the story of four generations of women intertwined not only by their mother to daughter links but also by their individual struggles suddenly linked in a whole.

More surprising, and satisfying, than anything at this coming together of the generations is how the great grandmother suddenly is a personality of her own again, rather than a pathetic poor woman in a village who managed to send her daughter to city to college - albeit a huge part of the satisfaction is the letter the grandmother wrote to her granddaughter being not lost after all, but read by bother mother and daughter, bringing them together as never before, and more than the two at that. This letter uniting the four generations, and making the younger two aware of the older two left behind in India, as part of their own selves, is perhaps the gem that sets the piece off in its finale.
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April 24, 2016.
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The Cabin: by Donna Mabry.

To those that have read her Manhattan, KS series, this is just another delightful addition in the series, perhaps. To someone new is another matter.

One cannot deny being attracted by the cover with its lovely little log cabin surrounded by large shady trees glorious in a red-golden fall, but the real hook sinks into one with the young woman defying her large scary odious cousin and brother in-law along with her father and literally running away, into woods until she finds the cabin she spots serendipitously, like the little girl in the story of three bears. Only, this girls is not so little, and she is running away from a Mormon marriage involving, as usual, marrying a cousin who is much older, and is married to more than one wife already to boot, among them her younger sister too, whose travails are all too known to her.

From then on it is a regular fairy tale, albeit not quite for children, replete with a hero, heroine, good guys and a terrible villain who keeps threatening them with murder and acting on it till end. Ends satisfyingly well, like a fairy tale ought to, too.
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April 26, 2016.
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