Dewey's 24 Hour Readathon - The How, What, Whys #cookiereads

So I did the Dewey’s 24-hour Readathon this year (October 20-21, 2017), considering it was my first ever readathon of any sort (and one that I actually completed), I’m excited enough to blog about it :P

Two Things

1) Addressing that niggling conscience:

You know what disappoints me? When people don't read posts but comment saying "lovely post". What actually hurts more is when bloggers you care about and respect leave such comments.

Bibliosmiac-ing

The Book Meme aka Bookporn

Science Fiction, Fantasy or Horror? 

Surprisingly, horror. Surprising because I, quite literally, hide under the covers during the entirety of a horror movie. That is only if someone emotionally blackmails me into watching one. Reading horror though, right up my alley.

Pick! Perfection Or Messed Up

Sachin FINALLY got to celebrate. About time, I should think. 

But, with all due respect, if I read ONE more update with 'Sachin' or 'God' in it, I'm going on a blocking spree.  

And we lost. To Bangladesh. 

Moving on (before I launch into a rant)...

There is this author, yeah. Pretty famous I should say, from what I hear. I was initially very taken in with the whole idea of her, but, bit by bit the charm faded. Then the charm went 'pop' when that Nanda guy got me her latest book as a Valentines' present and I spent all of six hours with my nose buried in it. 

I was disappointed. For a 'best-selling author' thrice over, the book and the story was only average. 

I don't have a problem with that.

Well, mostly because most recent Indian authors have disappointed me.

She posts regularly on her blog and I read every post religiously (I stalk all writers I can find on Blogger, bit of an OCD). And I have yet to find a post in which she doesn't mention her best-sellers or perfect writing skills or her perfect behavior in all manners of situations or her perfect life or the perfect people around her who are just perfectly perfect. She's always together, always has a condescending tone and a perfect answer to every question you can ever think of asking her. She never fails to mention that she has an amazing figure even after kids (I don't even understand why that's relevant to her work) along with what an awesomely well-rounded mother she is. She even gets her husband to write guest posts about what an amazing experience it is to have her as his wife.

She seems to have mastered the art of perfection.

I don't have a problem with that either. You have enough discipline to write a whole book, the grit to get it published and the guts to put yourself out there for the whole world to criticize and tear apart, you deserve to brag. Not that it's an excuse to be anything less that an exemplary writer but I'd understand. 

My question is: 

Can anyone's life be perfect? Can anyone's life go exactly the way they plan it, have all their wishes come true and never have any major problems to deal with? Can anyone take every single teeny bit of negativity that ever came their way and turn it into the 'most amazing thing' that every happened to them?

Even if you answer yes to all the above, is that how life is supposed to be?

Doesn't it take two weeks of bad food to attain nirvana with one piece of cheese-burst pizza? Doesn't it take tears to find out how beautiful happiness is? Doesn't it take hurt to find out how deep love can be? Doesn't it take mistakes to feel how satisfactory it is to be right? 

Shouldn't we mess up sometimes just to know what the other side is like.... to appreciate good things when they come to us?

If everything is perfect all the time, wouldn't everything become mechanical? Boring?

Or am I psychologically damaged? :P

P.S: No offense to the writer or her fans who might recognize who I'm talking about. She just got me thinking, that's all.

Sachin Garg's Take On Not Being Twenty Four

Name: I’m Not Twenty Four

Author: Sachin Garg

ISBN: 978-81-922226-2-2

Publishers: Grapevine India Publishers Pvt. Ltd

Genre: Romance

‘I’m Not Twenty Four… I’ve Been Nineteen For Five Years’ is Sachin Garg’s second book. I have to admit that I haven’t read the first one and therefore I read this one with no expectations or preconceived notions, whatsoever.

The story is about a city brat, Saumya Kapoor, who finds herself in no-man’s land and deprived of her daily coffee. She leaves behind all that she holds dear, because of a mistake, and goes to Toranagallu only to discover a larger purpose to her life and true love aka Shubrodeep Shyamchaudhry, the sexy globe-trotting Bengali.

The cover appeals to me for I’m a HUGE fan of pumps but it does give the book a misguided image of being a chick-lit which it is not. I like the book’s dedication and the fact that there’s a story behind the cover illustration as well. Also, the portrayal of Shubro throughout the book ranges from intriguing to endearing to inspiring. There are references to blogs and blogging which I personally loved and the Move-On Theory is genius for I would love to implement something like that in my life.

And there end the good points.

The initial introduction itself made me cringe with its blatant similarity to C-Bag’s way of introducing his lead character, you know, where Bhagat tells us how he met the character, how they told him the story and the events that transpired. And unfortunately for Mr. Garg, I read Revolution 2020 a couple of days back which made the stark likeness even more apparent to me. Negative points for that.

Secondly, I personally believe that men and women don’t understand each other all that well and therefore, attempting to write a story from the other gender’s perspective should be undertaken with utmost caution. Parts where the girls go lingerie shopping and the descriptions of the men and the kiss between Malappa and Saumya are places which I, without any writing experience whatsoever, could have dealt with better for the sole reason that I’m female. I can’t help but feel that the author would have done better if he’d written the story in third person or even from his own perspective.

Saumya comes across as an airhead throughout the book; what with her shopping obsessions, packing suits and stilettos to for a village posting and even wearing shorts for a temple visit. I don’t know any women who are THAT blonde. At least, not ones who get through B-School. Also, she seems very shallow, from frequent references to skin color and statements about not talking to people with accents. I need slightly more solid reasons to dislike a person, let alone a guy.

The story is unbelievable in parts for I don’t think that a manager pushing his employee into a furnace and killing him would go unreported or uninquired. Nor would a newbie employee who faints at the drop of a hat will suddenly develop riot-controlling skills. And the way the romance between Saumya and Shubhro has been dealt with is abominable; like I said, it needs a woman’s touch.

The language is less than ordinary; I do not see the verbal flair that is required for an exquisite story-telling experience. And the phrases are unimaginative –“chewing gum chewing self” would be the prime example. Do not even get me started on the grammar and punctuation mistakes. If it’s a blog or just a feature story, I’d understand; but this kind of editing in a full-fledged novel is just not permissible.

The only parts that I enjoyed reading were the blog-excerpts which reveal Shubro’s real story and initial part where she screws with the interviewers heads.

I give it a 3/10. 

This review is a part of the Book Reviews Program at BlogAdda.com. Participate now to get free books!

P.S: Thank you for all the comments on the last post and no, I'm not back yet; this was an obligation, hence the post.

Parinda Joshi's London Tale

Author: Parinda Joshi
Publisher: Rupa and Co
ISBN: 978-8129118233
Genre: Fiction


‘Live from London’ is a chick-lit(?) by Parinda Joshi set in hip London and society Mumbai. It’s quite a simple tale of a girl, her dreams, career, disappointments and how she gets over them to make it big. 

Starting with an epic fail on the stage of ‘Britain’s Got Talent’, the author takes us through Nishi Gupta’s quest to get her big break and find her niche. Her internship with a big record label company crosses her paths with those of Nick Navjot Chapman, the handsome American Idol runner-up, and the seemingly surreptitious affair that ensues adds another dimension to her life. Though, contrary to claim, it is far from steamy.

Life teaches her some lessons in friendship, trust and broken hearts before she decides to follow her parents back to her roots. She is surprised to find India so much more advanced than when she left. The ensuing events, including a larger-than-life, unfazed ‘Mom’s friend’s son’, a series of half-hearted attempts to find work, social mess ups, a couple of fashion disasters and an unexpected visitor, put Nishi where exactly she wants to be.

Nishi’s characterisation makes me think of the new breed of young, strong, independent women trying to break free of the shadows of parental concern and the shackles of the tag of a newbie in the workplace. Though she breaks down at failure, she is quick to bounce back, that too with The Plan. 

What I admired is that she asserts herself as one not to be cuckolded in love. When she finds out what Nick did, she is quick with her dismissal. No moaning and groaning and whiny dialogues or all-night-over-ice-cream-bitching to friends. But at certain points she does come across as slightly teenager-ish and air-headed.

While some other characters have distinct quirks and traits like the blunt Sarah and the over-protective thoroughly Indian mother (who reminds me of the line “you can take an Indian out of India but never the India out of an Indian), most others seem dispensable. The fact that she doesn’t go to her friends at the darkest times of her life even after she has repeatedly reinstated that they are her support system, irks.

The climax wraps up most of the loose ends, but fails to impress without scope to even second guess. What could have been a very different tale of contemporary feminine victory ends up being just another story of the princess and her frog (of sorts). But maybe I expect too much.

The writing style is simple; the lingo and intended(?) clichés add fun. The fashion and music references hold value to an enthusiast. 

The cover is interesting (there are three, as I understand) but there are no illustrations in the entire story, not even caricatures or sketches (I’m very partial to pictures in a story, call me juvenile).

Overall, Live from London is a read you’ll get through once when you’re stuck in the hostel with nothing else to do and your Agatha Christie has been stolen by your stupid friend.

I would give it 5.5 out of 10.

And I can’t help admit that I’m jealous of Nishi Gupta’s red guitar. But that's just me.

Thank you, BlogAdda, for the opportunity.

This review is a part of the Book Reviews Program at BlogAdda. Participate now to get free books!

Ms. Dhankher's Rocky Love

In my aakrantham (greed, impatience), I forgot to savor the suspense. 

I’m done with ‘Love On The Rocks’ by Ismita Tandon Dhanker and I have to say that I’m quite surprised.

Open-mindedness may not be one of my strengths. I had my prejudices - about the language, the plot and whatnot. Indian writer and thriller fiction? (I sound like a pompous ass, forgive me I do not mean to be) I did not think I would be impressed by it.

And my prejudices just came up from behind to bite me in the wrong place.

The story is about a murder on a ship at the high seas and its consequences. The protagonist, Sancha Andrews, the new bride of the ship’s first officer and the only female in the midst of twenty-three males, is full of high hopes for her marriage. She goes aboard, befriends most and rubs some the wrong way with her sleuthing tendencies and strong beliefs. She almost enjoys her time of isolation from the world. But it irks her that nobody seemed to care about the ‘accidental’ death of the chief cook that stinks worse than stale fish. A theft happens which, somehow, relates itself to the murder. Everybody kicks into high gear and sets about solving the case; arguments, fights, back-stabbing, tears - all add to the intrigue.

The characterization of Harsh Castillo had me crushing on him instantly. All characters develop shades of grey at some point or the other, they have been clearly etched (they made me wonder if she had real life inspiration). The tantalizing morsels about their past contribute to their depth. The story is told in bits by each character (The author says it’s because each character has a different view of life). It can get confusing as to who is saying what if you are not paying attention, but she has pulled it off well; it takes effort to mesh the plot into the characters seamlessly. What I also liked were their names, unconventional, like Harsh Castillo and ‘Baldy’ Kirk. Sancha’s attempts at being sultry seemed forced and unnecessary though.

The plot is a little loose in the middle; the elaborate and repetitive fights and the tiresome investigation by the Inspector sapped my patience. And the final fate of the killer went against my need for justice. Otherwise, the guessing game starts right from the first page (which is crucial to the story but you don’t know why till the very end, so pay attention) and the suspense is maintained. If you are like me and try to second guess the story, you are in for a surprise.

The illustrations are simple and depict each character’s defining quirk. The cover is one of my favorite parts – simple and fun. But the paper quality leaves a little to be desired.

Overall, LOTR is a packed 211 pages that has a little sugar and a lot of spice, guaranteed to keep you occupied for the rest of the day.

I would give it a 6.5 to 7 on 10.

Now, back to reading it without the aakrantham.

This review is a part of the Book Reviews By Bloggers program by BlogAdda. Participate now to get free books!

The Small Victories...

A day becomes awesome when a lot of good things that you have been waiting for happen, all together.

Flashback: From when I was a wee li’l thing I have been the type who gets hyper-excited about almost everything. Case of Illustration: Ma says we are going out to get chicken for the dogs and I’m already out, cap on and sneakers tied, even before she completes the sentence. You get the point.

The good part about such enthusiasm is that it’s almost laughably, foolishly easy to make me happy – you point a puppy/kitten/fields of flowers/chocolate bar out to me and I’ll gurgle contentedly for the rest of the day. I manage to pry happiness from almost everything (that makes me a very low-maintenance girlfriend. N, are you listening?:P) And the bad part? The disappointments. When even that small thing you wanted so bad and expected to get, is just out of reach. And the stupidly sensitive fool that I am, I bawl my eyes out every time, even now (ashamed as I am to admit it).

People say disappointment makes us cynical. I demand to differ. Though I have been disappointed n number of times, some big-some small- some life-altering, this enthusiasm to take on life and all it has to offer hasn’t dulled yet and even at times when the prospects seemed bleak and the future, uncertain, I never stopped dreaming about how I’ll make it big.

Not IF I make it big, WHEN I make it big (stupid, daydreaming Arian that I am:P)

When life handed me a big, fat lemon, I sat in a corner, had a good cry and then got up and made lemonade. Dozens of awards slipping away, positions denied, coveted objects deprived of and so much more. But, with the help of the amazing people I have in my life, I moved on to realize that they didn’t matter THAT much after all.

And it is because of those disappointments that I learnt to cherish even the smallest of victories.

Victories like people telling me that they love the way I write and that they look forward to seeing my updates on their dashboard (Anu Krishnan, I’ll always remember you for that), being recognized for my blog, the n number of likes and comments, a followers list that is growing every day; I can only say thank you from the deep crevasses of my wee li’l heart and hope that you all understand what a huge deal it is for me and how much it all means.

These small victories help me go on. Put one foot in front of the other even when nothing else seems worth it. They make me believe in who I am, what I can do. That I can reach out for my dream, catch it and hold onto it tight.

Cut To Present: Getting back to the point (I know, finally. Thank you so much for putting up with the senti rambling), today was awesome because I had two of those small victories and they have made me happier than ever.

1) ‘Love on the Rocks’ arrived (details on why). Solid proof that the Adda people think I am capable of a little more that utter nonsense. I hope I do justice to it. (Is it unforgivably wrong that I loved the bubble wrap as much as the book itself?)

The set, complete with a hand-written poem and autograph,
a letter from Adda and a couple of bookmarks.

2) I got a job as a freelance writer. Not at all a big affair but something that I have been wanting for a long time now. I can’t say much more than WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!! (I know, juvenile. But I’m not ready to grow up just yet.)

Anyway, though I’m hardly living the dream, I have enough to keep me going on full steam for the near future and I’m happy being a happy person. Ultimately, isn’t that what all of us want from life?

Cheers! :)

P.S: Chandana, wish you a very, very, very happy birthday girl:) God Bless... And to all the beautiful and 'epic' (:P) things due to you in the years to come! <3
(I tried inboxing you, failed :|)


P.P.S: Spaceman Spiff's blog is a read you'll never forget, especially if you are a Mallu:D. Head over and make sure you go through the archives with a fine tooth-and-comb as well!