what an awfully tiresome book. what is there here that hasn't been
said, much less tritely, an awful number of times before; it is
made that much more maudlin by the cloying manner with which all
and sundry behave with each other. there was nary a non-hackneyed
character from plucky protaganist through the inarticulate
mysteries of twin-hood and the justifiably philandering
mother.
i cannot dis-recommend this book enough. about india, read vikram
seth; about families, anita desai (or wallace stegner); funky
prose, rushdie, maybe (or back to joyce?).