Murder with Bengali Characteristics by Shovon Chowdhary

Murder with Bengali Characteristics by Shovon Chowdhury
My rating: 2 of 5 stars

The book begins well but the laboured attempts at humour turn tiresome after some time. A sense of ennui envelops the reader as the repeated and inane spoofs about iconic Bengalis turn stale. Apparently, Jyoti Basu and Mamata Banerjee still live in this dystopian future India.
Soon the satire turns stale. Even the occasional flashes of brilliance fail to redeem the narrative.

He was regenerated from some DNA found on a whiskey glass…
Li noticed that his car was loitering near Barin Mondol’s hut. It was in stealth mode. It had retractable tentacles, with which it could apprehend suspects, provided they weren’t too agile. It must have spotted something suspicious. Li let it be, it could well be a cow. Its ability to distinguish between humans and animals was limited…
He was a thin angular man with a wispy goatee. He looked like a cross between John Lennon and a praying mantis27 The Governor was degenerating from vegetable to mineral with astonishing rapidity…
Geography on the Western Front was a living thing, rippling and slithering, leaving little puddles of blood in its wake.

The premise that following an Indo-China nuclear war - with China ruling Bengal and the North-Eastern states and parts of India turning into radioactive sites birthing mutants - becomes vapid. Frankly, there was no real need for the endless parodies of Mamata Banerjee’s Bengali accent

“Meanwhile, gorment babus were making everything bhanish! …
Money going for school, bephor it riches, bhanish! Money going for flood rilif, but bephor it riches, bhanish! …
I am still libhing. I am gonodebota – goddess of the pipool! …
But be carephool of Mowists – dey are ebhrywheyar. And beware of dis Bijli-da (ostensibly a Methuselan Jyoti Basu) Dese gentry fellow cannot be trusted. Olways doing number-two bijness… Phor twenty! Ebhen in your old ej, your’re doing number-two bijness! Always number-two bijness! Hwai? Hwai? Who weel eat? Oll your relatibhs are dead! …
Nebhar! You may be number-two, but I hweel not accept eet! Rebholushan! Neshan required eet!”

And on and on ad nauseum....

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