Henry, April. The Night she Disappeared, Henry Holt and Company, New York, 2012. (Pages 229, Harcover)

Rating: 8/10

Every time I visit the American library (now shifted to the Bandra Kurla Complex), I aim to pick up one book of which I know absolutely nothing. Not about the book, nor about its author. A literary casino if you like. A blind date between a writer and a reader. This time I picked up a new, nicely smelling book written by April Henry. I guessed April was a female name but I could have been wrong. My wife who is a graphic designer saw the cover and said it looked like a “young Adult” book. She was most surprised to see me reading it.

The book is a mystery book with a pizza delivering girl disappearing in the opening few pages. After the disaster with Junot Diaz (see the other entry today), I wanted to read for pleasure and entertainment. I am glad to report I had my revenge.

The book reads so fast, you will finish it in one sitting even if you were to start it after dinner. It is well written and well researched. Like Jodi Picoult, April Henry (yes, April is a woman) experiments intelligently. The ending is satisfying.  

Verdict: If young adult books are like this one, I don’t mind reading them at all.

Diaz, Junot. The brief wondrous life of Oscar Wao, Faber and Faber , London, 2008. (Pages 335, paperback)

Rating: 0/10

Like most book clubs, the book club I visit once a month decides on the monthly book. We try to elevate our literary level by selecting something that has or can win literary prizes. We may read the Grishams, the Archers and the Chetan Bhagats of this world but at our own risk, not as members of the book club. The book selected for this month is The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, (the freak title reportedly a tribute to Hemingway’s short story The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber).

This book has won the Pulitzer prize for fiction (2008), at least three other prizes, and appeared in more than 35 the best-book-of-the-year lists. No wonder our book club wanted to read this.

This is what I remember after reading the first one hundred pages.

-It talks about Fuku and Zafa, whatever they are.

-In the smallest possible print used as footnotes, the history of Dominican Republic appears. You can read the same in Wikipedia, with the added advantage of being able to adjust the font size.

- Sometimes it is written in the first person, sometimes in the second and sometimes in the third. But the first person is not always the same.

-half the words are in English (because they looked familiar), and the other half are not English. (I am told they are Spanish). It’s not that you have English paragraphs followed by the Spanish. The same sentence has a few English and a few Spanish words.

-Nothing happens. (or at least nothing happens in the text in English language.). Words after words after words appear in front of your eyes. They don’t flow, each one is like a hurdle over which a reader must jump.

I became tired of this hurdle race after 100 pages. I had decided that no matter what I must finish the book club book. After all, it’s only one book a month. I am free to read all other books of my own choice. But this book beat me. It became so intolerable, that I gave it up and cried. Cried for the lost hours. Cried for all the prizes the book had won.

Either something is critically wrong with me. Or with the rest of the world.

Verdict: If you think I have been uncharitable in giving the book a rating of zero, you are wrong. I could have given a negative scoring. For wasting precious time in my limited life. Instead of those 100 pages, I could have finished a racy normal murder mystery. Junot Diaz’s classic tells us how not to write a book. If you don’t trust me, please read it, and let me know if you understand something.