THE GOD OF SMALL THINGS
by Arundhati Roy | Publication: May 1, 1998Harper Perennial | Genre: Literary Fiction
Rating: ★★★★
Compared favorably to the works of Faulkner and Dickens, Arundhati Roy’s debut novel is a modern classic that has been read and loved worldwide. Equal parts powerful family saga, forbidden love story, and piercing political drama, it is the story of an affluent Indian family forever changed by one fateful day in 1969. The seven-year-old twins Estha and Rahel see their world shaken irrevocably by the arrival of their beautiful young cousin, Sophie. It is an event that will lead to an illicit liaison and tragedies accidental and intentional, exposing “big things [that] lurk unsaid” in a country drifting dangerously toward unrest. The God of Small Things is an award-winning landmark that started for its author an esteemed career of fiction and political commentary that continues unabated.
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THE GOD OF SMALL THINGS takes us to Ayemenem, a village in the Kottayam district of Kerala, India, during the 1960s, when the Twist was a hit and bell-bottoms were in fashion. There, we meet the twins Rahel Mol and Esthappen Yako, whose view of life is shaped—and eventually distorted—by a complicated family history and a childhood tragedy.
There is more to this book than the story of a world that moves from “Everything is Forever” to “Things can change in a day.” Roy builds the novel on social discrimination, domestic cruelty, the caste system, and basic human longing. The weight of social segregation and blind bureaucracy makes violence—both physical and psychological—feel not only possible, but inevitable.
At its core, the novel deals with the consequences of forbidden love: what happens to those who tamper with “the laws that lay down who should be loved and how…and how much.” Crossing that divide creates a world where “anything can happen to anyone” and “it is best to be prepared.” Every detail feels charged, revealing varying degrees of disparity, cruelty, and prejudice.
Arundhati Roy layers many themes around this central concern, especially through her attention to small moments, creatures, objects, and changes—the whisper of a voice, the play of light, the movements of insects.
Small things that lead to the bigger picture.
Small things that adults fail to acknowledge.
Small things magnified through the eyes of children.
The story follows a non-linear narrative, unfolding less like a sequence of events than like a memory. It dwells on theme rather than chronology, which demands close attention from the reader. At first, the sudden shifts between past and present can be trying; however, the novel gradually transforms into an absorbing read. Some readers may be put off by the repetition, but I found it charming, especially alongside Roy’s singsong wordplay. To me, it captured the innocent way children see the world, as well as their vulnerability to the kind of fear that can take root, grow, and shatter everything around them—often in contrast to the ignorance of the adults around them, right until the end.
“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 surprise you with the unforeseen.
They are as familiar as the house you live in. Or the smell of your lover’s skin.
You know how they end, yet you listen as though you don’t.
In the way that although you know that one day you will die, you live as though you won’t.
In the Great Stories you know who lives, who dies, who finds love, who doesn't.
And yet you want to know again.”
This book is anchored in misery and told through unusual prose that assaults the senses with unspeakable fervor.
There is more to this book than the story of a world that moves from “Everything is Forever” to “Things can change in a day.” Roy builds the novel on social discrimination, domestic cruelty, the caste system, and basic human longing. The weight of social segregation and blind bureaucracy makes violence—both physical and psychological—feel not only possible, but inevitable.
At its core, the novel deals with the consequences of forbidden love: what happens to those who tamper with “the laws that lay down who should be loved and how…and how much.” Crossing that divide creates a world where “anything can happen to anyone” and “it is best to be prepared.” Every detail feels charged, revealing varying degrees of disparity, cruelty, and prejudice.
Arundhati Roy layers many themes around this central concern, especially through her attention to small moments, creatures, objects, and changes—the whisper of a voice, the play of light, the movements of insects.
Small things that lead to the bigger picture.
Small things that adults fail to acknowledge.
Small things magnified through the eyes of children.
The story follows a non-linear narrative, unfolding less like a sequence of events than like a memory. It dwells on theme rather than chronology, which demands close attention from the reader. At first, the sudden shifts between past and present can be trying; however, the novel gradually transforms into an absorbing read. Some readers may be put off by the repetition, but I found it charming, especially alongside Roy’s singsong wordplay. To me, it captured the innocent way children see the world, as well as their vulnerability to the kind of fear that can take root, grow, and shatter everything around them—often in contrast to the ignorance of the adults around them, right until the end.
The ones you can enter anywhere and inhabit comfortably.
They don’t deceive you with thrills and trick endings.
They don’t surprise you with the unforeseen.
They are as familiar as the house you live in. Or the smell of your lover’s skin.
You know how they end, yet you listen as though you don’t.
In the way that although you know that one day you will die, you live as though you won’t.
In the Great Stories you know who lives, who dies, who finds love, who doesn't.
And yet you want to know again.”
This book is anchored in misery and told through unusual prose that assaults the senses with unspeakable fervor.
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Om Lifestyle + Cafe, Greenhills, San Juan City,
March 21, moderated by sweet Monique.
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I love your review, Mommy L! And thank you for your contribution and attendance at the F2F! Mwah! <3
ReplyDeleteHey, thank you din! It was a delight, really!
DeleteThis review, though, went through some major edits, because books like this are difficult not to pelt with spoilers. :)
Oh this book is truly misery filled. Gah. And I agree on the "child-like sense of wordplay", and how it underscored the innocence of the twins, and made it all the more heartbreaking. :)
ReplyDelete