Books 2010

Books 2009

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Monday, 10 August 2009


I really enjoyed to read your post, looks like you gays had terrific time. I also a love to sail in beautiful places, this summer we took a vacation to Alaska and sailed there in Icy waters, that was wonderful experience.

Your "no danger anyone thinking I was reading chick-lit" is so utterly funny. There is no such danger indeed, I confirm it! No reader of this blog would doubt it, and just in case, it is now clearly ascertained - but no, I am not kidding you.
The story reminds me of the book The Man who Planted Trees that you read last winter. The story, plot and circumstances are quite different, but the morals and reactions of the villagers are slightly alike. Is this a true story, or based on a true occurrence?
One more thing, you are currently reading and blogging at such a tremendous speed, it is unbelievable!

Sounds like I shall have to add this one to my list of Indian books to read before I go in November. I'll let you know whether rural Orissa lives up to Jha's portrayal of rural Indian life.

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  • Nothing is of greater consolation to the author of a novel than the disovery of readings he had not conceived but which are then prompted by his readers. (Umberto Eco, Reflections on The Name of the Rose)
  • ... relatively few persons in London ... can afford the luxury of one or more servants. No fewer than 3,700,000 have no servants at all, and of the half million that have servants 227,000 have only one. (The Times, 6 June 1895)
  • Standing among savage scenery, the hotel offers stupendous revelations. There is a French widow in every bedroom, affording delightful prospects. (Tyrolean inn brochure, according to Gerard Hoffnung)
  • (A doctor is at an elderly relative's deathbed) "The old sawbones, eh?" he bellowed ... "Just in the nick, perhaps. Haul the old girl back by the short hairs, if you ask me. Devilish smart at his work ... Always take a fence with more confidence when I know he's out with us."
  • Too often, when a man of Monty Godkin's mental powers is plunged in thought, nothing happens at all. The machinery just whirs for a while, and that is the end of it. (P G Wodehouse, Heavy Weather)
  • ...the breed that take their pleasures as Saint Laurence took his grid (Kipling, The Five nations)

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