A Covenant of Water by Abraham Verghese

The Covenant of Water by Abraham Verghese
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Take a generous helping of A J Cronin (for the ethos of medicine), a pinch of Frank G. Slaughter (for surgical drama), add a dollop of Robin Cook (for the medical mystery and suspense), season with Saki (for the unexpected twists in the tale), garnish liberally with Amitav Ghosh and James A. Michener(for the multigenerational narrative) and after letting it stew with John le Carré (for the breathless denouement) and topping it with a sprig of Morton Thompson you get the humdinger of a scrumptious dish called The Covenant of Water.

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Dance Dance Dance by Haruki Murakami

Dance Dance Dance by Haruki Murakami
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

All of Murakami’s tropes are here: an insouciant, saucy know-it-all pre-pubescent girl, dark menacing extradimensional spaces, Jazz/Rock, idleness and whiling away time pointlessly, cooking noodles, a beautiful mysterious enigmatic woman who vanishes, an ominous forboding pervading the narrative, eating and drinking, sheep, cats

At the end of May, Kipper, my cat, died. Suddenly, without warning. I woke up one day and found him curled up on the kitchen floor, dead. He himself probably hadn’t known it was happening. His body was cold and hard, sheen gone from the fur. He could hardly have claimed he had the best life. Never really loved by anyone, never seeming really to love anyone either. His eyes always had this uneasy look, like what now? You don’t see that look in a cat too often. But anyway, he was dead. Nothing more. Maybe that’s the best thing about death.

… and, of course, ear-lobes

Her small white ears and the nape of her neck, how like a girl’s neck it was. How different form a mature woman’s neck. Though don’t ask me what I mean by that.

Later

I’d seen these photos of her ears and, well, I got obsessed, to put it mildly … The first day we met, we were at a restaurant and she personally showed me her ears. Personally, I mean not professionally, and they were even more amazing than in the photograph. They were exquisite! Fantastic! … Her ears had special power. They were like some great whirlpool of fate sucking me in. And they could lead people to the right place.

Here are excerpts of vintage Murakamisms

What it reminded me of was a biological dead end. A genetic retrogression. A freak accident of nature that stranded some organism up the wrong path without a way back. Evolutionary vector eliminated, orphaned life-form left cowering behind the curtain of history, in The Land That Time Forgot. And through no fault of anyone. No one to blame, no one to save it…
But he is not the only one who’s crazy about Jodie Cleopatra. There’s a dark, dark Arabian prince who’s burning with passion for her. He’s so in love with that just thinking about her is enough to make him dance. The role is tailor-made for Michael Jackson. He’s crossed the Arabian sands all the way to Egypt for her love. We see him dancing all the way to Egypt for her love. We see him dancing around the caravan camp fire, shaking a tambourine, singing “Billie Jean.” His eyes gleam in the starlight…
I was in a great black vacuum. I was reduced to pure concept. My flesh had dissolved; my form had dissipated, I floated in space. Liberated of my corporeal being, but without dispensation to go anywhere else. I was adrift in the void. Somewhere across the fine line separating nightmare from reality.

Here is Murakami’s propensity to wander off on a tangent during his narrative and endlessly rhapsodize on some inane object or animal

And if you consider the telephone as an object, it has this truly weird form. Ordinarily, you never notice it, but if you stare at it long enough, the sheer oddity of its form hits home. The phone either looks like it’s trying to say something, or else it’s resenting that its trapped inside its form. Pure idea vested within a clunky body. That’s the telephone…
Actually, the telephone looks rather irritated.
It – or let’s call it a “she” – seemed rather pissed off at being less than pure idea. Angered at the uncertain and imperfect grounds upon which volitional communication must necessarily base itself. So very imperfect, so utterly arbitrary, so wholly passive.
I propped myself up on my pillow and watched the telephone fume. A perfectly pointless exercise. It’s not my fault, the phone seemed to be telling me. Well, that’s communication. Imperfect, arbitrary, passive. The lament of the not-quite-pure idea. But I’m not to blame either. The phone probably tell this all the boys. It’s just that being part of these quarters of mine makes her – it – all the more irritable. Which makes me feel responsible. As if I’m aiding and abetting all the imperfection…
“Hard nut to crack, eh, Watson?” I addressed the ashtray before me. The ashtray, of course, did not respond. Smart ashtray. Same went for the coffee cup and sugar bowl and the bill. They all pretended not to hear. Stupid me. I was the one running amok in these weird goings on.

Engrossing yarn. And, to top it all, there is a writer named “Hiraku Makimura” – an anagram of the author’s name.

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मृदुला गर्ग कृत चित्तकोबरा

चित्तकोबरा by Mridula Garg
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

उच्च मध्यम वर्ग की एक सुखी विवाहित भारतीय महिला और एक खुशहाल विवाहित स्कॉटिश पुजारी केअंतर्गत व्यभिचारी रिश्ते की निर्भीक कथा। एक संवेदनशील वैवाहिक निजी दृश्य के कारण १९८० में लेखक की गिरफ्तारी और बाद में रिहाई हुई जिसका विवरण पुस्तक के अंत में दिया गया है।

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Lake Wobegon Days by Garrison Keillor

Lake Wobegon Days by Garrison Keillor
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

With his masterful storytelling and keen observations, Keillor invites us into the fictional town of Lake Wobegon, where life may seem simple on the surface but is rich with complex characters and deep-rooted emotions. The stories are infused with a gentle humour that evokes genuine laughter, while at the same time touching on universal themes that resonate with readers. Whether he's describing the humorous escapades of the local inhabitants or exploring the intricacies of family relationships, Keillor's writing captures the essence of human nature with wit and warmth.

Men wear their belts low here, there being so many outstanding bellies, some big enough to have names of their own and be formally introduced. Those men don’t suck them in or hide them in loose shirts; they let them hang free, they pat them , they stroke them as they stand around and talk. How could a man be so vain as to ignore this old friend who’s been with them at the great moments of his life?

As the narration proceeds the town of Lake Wobegon comes alive on the pages, with its picturesque landscape, quaint buildings, and the familiar rhythms of daily life. Through his vivid descriptions, the author invites readers to stroll down the streets, visit the local diner, and join the townsfolk in their everyday routines.
The characters are crafted with great care and attention to detail. Each individual has their own quirks and flaws, yet they are portrayed with compassion and understanding. The characters feel authentic and relatable, and as readers, we become deeply invested in their lives, eagerly following their triumphs and tribulations. The reader is transported back to a simpler time, where people found joy in small pleasures and community was at the heart of everything. Through his storytelling, he captures the essence of a bygone era, where life moved at a slower pace and neighbours looked out for one another. Whether recounting tales of childhood innocence or exploring the bittersweetness of growing old, the writing exudes a wistful longing for a time and place that perhaps never truly existed but feels real in our hearts.
In addition to its nostalgic appeal, the book also serves as a social commentary on the changing landscape of small-town America. Keillor subtly touches on the encroachment of modernity and the impact it has on the fabric of a close-knit community. As the outside world seeps into Lake Wobegon, the residents grapple with shifting values, generational conflicts, and the loss of cherished traditions. Through these themes, Keillor explores the universal struggle between preserving the past and embracing the inevitable changes of the future.
Lake Wobegon Days not only captivates readers with its engaging storytelling and nostalgic charm but also delves into the rich history of the place, the rustic nature of its inhabitants, and the profound influence of religion on the community.
The fictional town in central Minnesota, is depicted as a place steeped in history. Garrison Keillor beautifully weaves together stories that span generations, painting a vivid picture of a town with a proud and enduring past. Through anecdotes and reminiscences, readers gain insight into the origins of Lake Wobegon, its settlers, and the unique customs and traditions that have been passed down through the years. This historical backdrop adds depth and authenticity to the narrative, allowing readers to feel a genuine connection to the place and its people.
The inhabitants of Lake Wobegon embody a rustic charm that is both endearing and relatable. Keillor portrays them as hardworking individuals who find solace and contentment in the simplicity of their lives. Whether it's the farmers toiling in the fields, the store owners bustling about their businesses, or the children exploring the wonders of their small town, the characters exude a genuine love for their community and an unwavering sense of belonging. The author's attention to detail and his keen observations capture the essence of rural life, highlighting the beauty found in the mundane and ordinary.

In winter, we sit in the house
Around a blazing fire.
In summer, we sit on the porch
Like birds on a telephone wire

Religion plays a significant role in the fabric of Lake Wobegon's community. The town is predominantly Lutheran, and the presence of faith is palpable throughout the book. Keillor explores the influence of religion on the daily lives of the residents, from the steadfast faith of Pastor Ingqvist to the church picnics and revivals that bring the community together. Through humor and introspection, the author presents a nuanced portrayal of the role of religion in shaping the town's values, morals, and interpersonal relationships. While the religious aspects are handled with respect, Keillor also offers a lighthearted perspective on the quirks and foibles that come with living in a tightly-knit faith-based community.

You have fed me wretched food, vegetable boiled to extinction, fistfuls of white sugar, slabs of fats, mucousy casseroles made with globs of cream of mushroom, until it’s amazing my heart still beats. Food was not fuel but ballast; we ate and then sank like rocks. Every Sunday, everyone got stoned on dinner except the women who cooked it and thereby lost their appetites – the rest of us did our duty and ate ourselves into a gaseous stupor and sat around in a trance and mumbled like a bunch of beefheads.

The influence of religion is intertwined with the themes of tradition and change in Lake Wobegon. As the world outside encroaches on the town, the younger generation begins to question and challenge long-held beliefs and customs. This tension between the old and the new adds a layer of complexity to the narrative, reflecting the broader societal shifts occurring during the time the book was written. Keillor explores the delicate balance between embracing progress and preserving cherished traditions, highlighting the challenges faced by individuals and the community as a whole.
Help taken by chatopenai.com for writing this review is obvious!

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Use Of Weapons by Iain M. Banks

Use of Weapons by Iain M. Banks
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Rereading after more than a decade and it is still a gripping yarn – Iain m. Banks never disappoints or gets stale with time.
Crafts

VFP/(D)ROU Xenophobe (Torturer Class); GCU Just Testing; Continent Class GSV (Sub-class Prompt) What Are The Civilian Applications? – one of the limiteds; GCU Very Little Gravitas Indeed; GSV Size Isn’t Everything; GCU Sweet And Full of Grace; GSV Congenital Optimist

Drones

Fohristi-whirl Skaffen-Amtiskaw Handrahen Dran Easpyou aka Skaffen-Amtiskaw

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भवतिचरण वर्मा कृत चित्रलेखा

चित्रलेखा by Bhagwaticharan Verma
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

यह सम्राट चन्द्रगुप्त मौर्य के समय की कथा मानवीय प्रेम और त्याग को सुन्दर तरह से दर्शाती है ।
भाषा के कुछ उल्लेखनीय उदहारण

पिपासा तृप्त होने की चीज नहीं। आग को पानी की आवश्यकता नहीं होती, उसे घृत की आवश्यकता होती है, जिससे वह और भड़के। …
जीवन एक अविकल पिपासा है। उसे तृप्त करना जीवन का अन्त कर देना है। मुझे जल की आवश्यकता नहीं, मुझे मदिरा चाहिए। …
नीतिशास्त्र का आधार तर्क है। धर्म का आधार विश्वास …
धर्म ईश्वर का सांसारिक रूप है …
हेमन्त के शीतल तथा शुष्क वायु में मधुमास के हल्के ताप और मतवाले सौरभ का समावेश हुआ। सारा वातावरण ही बदल गया। …
मनुष्य वही श्रेष्ठ है, जो अपनी कमजोरियों को जानकर उनको दूर करने का उपाय कर सके। …
उस समय सूर्योदय हो रहा था। कलरव के स्वर उस प्रात:कालीन समीर में गूँज रहे थे, जिसकी चाल नवविकसित कलिकाओं के सौरभ–भार से मन्द पड़ गई थी।

अंत में, पाप के अर्थ को समझने के लिए गुरु अपने दोनो छात्रों को समझाते हैं कि कहानी का नैतिक सार है

“संसार में पाप कुछ भी नहीं है, वह केवल मनुष्य के दृष्टिकोण की विषमता का दूसरा नाम है। प्रत्येक व्यक्ति एक विशेष प्रकार की मन:प्रवृत्ति लेकर उत्पन्न होता है–प्रत्येक व्यक्ति इस संसार के रंगमंच पर एक अभिनय करने आता है। अपनी मन:प्रवृत्ति से प्रेरित होकर अपने पाठ को वह दुहराता है–यही मनुष्य का जीवन है। जो कुछ मनुष्य करता है, वह उसके स्वभाव के अनुकूल होता है और स्वभाव प्राकृतिक है। मनुष्य अपना स्वामी नहीं है, वह परिस्थितियों का दास है–विवश है। कर्त्ता नहीं है, वह केवल साधन है। फिर पुण्य और पाप कैसा?
“मनुष्य में ममत्व प्रधान है। प्रत्येक मनुष्य सुख चाहता है। केवल व्यक्तियों के सुख के केन्द्र भिन्न होते हैं। कुछ सुख को धन में देखते हैं, कुछ सुख को मदिरा में देखते हैं, कुछ सुख को व्यभिचार में देखते हैं, कुछ त्याग में देखते हैं–पर सुख प्रत्येक व्यक्ति चाहता है; कोई भी व्यक्ति संसार में अपनी इच्छानुसार वह काम न करेगा, जिसमें दुख मिले–यही मनुष्य की मन:प्रवृत्ति है और उसके दृष्टिकोण की विषमता है। “संसार में इसीलिए पाप की परिभाषा नहीं हो सकी–और न हो सकती है। हम न पाप करते हैं और न पुण्य करते हैं, हम केवल वह करते हैं, जो हमें करना पड़ता है।”

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The Player of Games by Iain M. Banks

The Player of Games by Iain M. Banks
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Like aged wine, Iain M. Banks’ stories just get better. I found the book even more refreshing after a period of three decades.

Names of spaceships are the highlight of any Banks yarn, from those of the inscrutable Minds to the whimsical names of Drones: Dastavich Chamlis Amalk-ney Ep-Handra Thedreiskre Ostlhoorp, Loash Armasco-Iap Wu-Handrahen Xato Koum, Sprant Flere-Imsaho Eu-Handrahen Xato Trabiti better known as ‘Mawhrin-Skel’ disguised as Trebel Flere-Imsaho Ep-handra Lorgin Estral; of individuals: Chiark-Gevantse Jernau Morat Gurgeh dam Hassease, of quirky and eccentric space-ships and rogue elements: GCU Flexible Demeanour GSV Unfortunate Conflict of Evidence, (D)ROU Zealot, GCU Of Course I Still Love You, GCU Just Read The Instructions, GSV Youthful Indiscretion, SC Gunboat Diplomat, “Murderer” class GOU Limiting Factor, River class Superlifter Kiss My Ass, Plate class GSV Little Rascal, Range class GSV So Much For Subtlety. The Minds are notable for peculiar sense of humour, often adopting fanciful names that are puns or references to literature, philosophy, or pop culture. Gurgeh interacts with a Mind named "Sleeper Service," which is a reference to a line from Shakespeare's play "The Tempest." Another Mind he encounters is named "Mistake Not..." which is a play on the phrase "Make no mistake."

The drones in the Culture are also known for their distinctive personalities and names. They often have a sarcastic or irreverent sense of humour, and their names are frequently references to popular culture or historical figures. For example, in "The Player of Games," the protagonist is accompanied by a drone named "Flere-Imsaho," which is a reference to the French philosopher Michel Foucault.

On being asked to translate ‘capacity,’ the disguised Drone ‘Mawhrin-Skel’ prattled innocently

‘Garbleness, game playeroid,’ Flere-Imsaho muttered darkly in Marain. ‘Twiddly-dee; you that word capacity before usedish Eachic in. Placey-wacey’s buggy-woggied. Stoppy-toppy deez guys spladdiblledey-dey-da more dluelettes on the ligngo offering, righty?’

and continues cheekily in an exasperated manner on being asked to translated ‘especially’

‘More gibberish biltrivnik ner plin ferds, your’re quontstipilish trying nomonomo wertsish my zozlik zibbidik dik fucking patience, Gurgeh.’

Banks’ answer to Douglas Adams’ ‘Pan-galactic gargle-blaster’

I’d like a double standard measure of staol and chilled Shungusteriaung warp-wing liver wine bottoming a mouth of white Effyre-Spin cruchen-spirit in a slush of medium cascalo, topped with toasted weirdberries and served in a number three strength Tipprawlic osmosis-bowl, or your best approximation thereof.’

Without missing a beat the response of the ship

‘male or female warp-wing?’ the module said.

Absolute gem of a book.

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शिवानी कृत रतिविलाप

रतिविलाप by Shivani
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

पितृसत्तात्मक समाज में अपने स्थान व अस्तित्व हेतु संघर्ष करने वाली दृढ़ स्त्रियों की उत्कृष्ट यथार्थवादी कहानियाँ। भाषा शुद्ध है और संवाद बिलकुल सजीव है, जिसमें कोई कलात्मकता नहीं है। कुछ कहानियाँ कुमाऊँनी लोकाचार को भी दर्शाती हैं, अधिकांश पितृसत्ता के खिलाफ महिला-केंद्रित हैं, कुछ व्यभिचारी कामुक पुरुषों की सनक पर कमजोर महिलाओं के प्रति उच्च जाति और कुमाऊँनी समाज के पाखंड को दर्शाती हैं। भाषा के कुछ उल्लेखनीय उदहारण

उन भीमोदर सेठानियों के बयालीस इंची कटियों में साड़ी लपेटती, तो यही लगता कि किसी मर्सिडीज ट्रक को साड़ी लपेट रही हूँ। …
आश्रम के महाकाल के त्रिनेत्र ने सचमुच ही उस सुदर्शन कंदर्प को भस्म कर दिया था। …
तूँणी के उस पुष्ट तने से अपनी नग्न कनक-निकष स्निग्धा पीठ को साढ़े वह अपनी दोनों पतली टाँगें फैलाकर बैठी और उसका चिथड़ा बन गया लहँगा जीर्ण-विवर्ण छतरी के से घेरे मैं फैल गया था। …
जिह्वाविहीन उसके मुँह के गह्वर में अधूरी जीभ का टुकड़ा, किसी यन्त्र-सा घूमता न जाने कौन-सा शिवस्त्रोत्र दोहराता था। मुझे मंदिर के उस तिमिराच्छन्न गूढ़ मंडप में उसकी उपस्थिति अमानवीय लगी थी। …
सांचे में ढली काली तन्वी देह को वही दैधर्य, होंठों पर वही स्निग्ध स्मित, काजल से चिरई आँखों में वही चुहल। …
आनंद केवल अपरिसीम आनंद का ही साम्राज्य, चिंता, विषाद, नैराश्य, किसी से भी अब तक हमारा मुंहफट यौवन नहीं टकराया था। …
ऐसा शांत सुन्दर सुमद्र-तट कभी नहीं देखा - दूर-दूर तक विराट दर्पण-से जलधिटत पर प्रितबिम्बित हो रहीं, पल-पल गिरगिट-सा रंग बदलता गुलाबी, ऊदा नीलाकाश, लंगर डाले खड़े जहाजों के हवा में लहरा रहे मस्तूल और रसभरी समुद्री बहार।

अंतिम कहानी की समाप्ति denouement के लिए उल्लेखनीय है।

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