The God of Small Things, Arundhati Roy
en
Arundhati Roy

The God of Small Things

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‘They all broke the rules. They all crossed into forbidden territory. They all tampered with the laws that lay down who should be loved, and how. And how much.’
This is the story of Rahel and Estha, twins growing up among the banana vats and peppercorns of their blind grandmother’s factory, and amid scenes of political turbulence in Kerala. Armed only with the innocence of youth, they fashion a childhood in the shade of the wreck that is their family: their lonely, lovely mother, their beloved Uncle Chacko (pickle baron, radical Marxist, bottom-pincher) and their sworn enemy, Baby Kochamma (ex-nun, incumbent grand-aunt).
Arundhati Roy’s Booker Prize-winning novel was the literary sensation of the 1990s: a story anchored to anguish but fuelled by wit and magic.
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Kesan

Veronica Gavilanes
Veronica Gavilanesmembagikan kesan6 bulan yang lalu
👍Layak dibaca
🎯Bermanfaat
💞Romantis
🚀Sangat menarik
🐼Gemas
💧Menyentuh

This is a wonderful book, lovely written, and with a great development of the story. There’s some musicality in the narrative, which sometimes made me read out loud the same paragraph several times. The descriptions are build with images nicely embroidered from daily objects and situations. The plot was interesting and it was easy to connect with the story. I loved it, I would read it again many times, and I totally recommend it.

Elena Morozova
Elena Morozovamembagikan kesan2 tahun yang lalu
👍Layak dibaca
💧Menyentuh

Волшебная, невероятная и в тоже время совершенно реальная история мастерски рассказанная Арундати Рой. Одно из самых сильных моих впечатлений этого книжного года.

Natalia Latysheva
Natalia Latyshevamembagikan kesan3 tahun yang lalu
👍Layak dibaca

Очень, очень сильная книга, мудрая, глубокая. И написана очень хорошо

Kutipan

Olga Khvan
Olga Khvanmembuat kutipan3 tahun yang lalu
is curious how sometimes the memory of death lives on for so much longer than the memory of the life that it purloined.
Alexandra
Alexandramembuat kutipanbulan lalu
He didn’t know that in some places, like the country that Rahel came from, various kinds of despair competed for primacy. And that personal despair could never be desperate enough. That something happened when personal turmoil dropped by at the wayside shrine of the vast, violent, circling, driving, ridiculous, insane, unfeasible, public turmoil of a nation. That Big God howled like a hot wind, and demanded obeisance. Then Small God (cosy and contained, private and limited) came away cauterized, laughing numbly at his own temerity. Inured by the confirmation of his own inconsequence, he became resilient and truly indifferent. Nothing mattered much. Nothing much mattered. And the less it mattered, the less it mattered. It was never important enough. Because Worse Things had happened. In the country that she came from, poised forever between the terror of war and the horror of peace, Worse Things kept happening.
hrishita28
hrishita28membuat kutipan3 bulan yang lalu
harbored a faint resentment against their parents for having diddled them out of a lifetime of free bus rides.

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