The Tiger’s Wife

8366403When your fight has purpose—to free you from something, to interfere on the behalf of an innocent—it has a hope of finality. When the fight is about unraveling—when it is about your name, the places to which your blood is anchored, the attachment of your name to some landmark or event—there is nothing but hate, and the long, slow progression of people who feed on it and are fed it, meticulously, by the ones who come before them. Then the fight is endless, and comes in waves and waves, but always retains its capacity to surprise those who hope against it.”
― Téa Obreht, The Tiger’s Wife

This novel full of historic and human complexities of Balkans through its principal narrator, Natalia Stefanovic, a young doctor who lives with her mother, grandmother and grandfather in an unnamed Balkan city early in the 21st century, is my “Read of the Week”.

The Sense of an Ending

b3“How often do we tell our own life story? How often do we adjust, embellish, make sly cuts? And the longer life goes on, the fewer are those around to challenge our account, to remind us that our life is not our life, merely the story we have told about our life. Told to others, but – mainly – to ourselves.”
― Julian Barnes, The Sense of an Ending

The Sense of an Ending is a quiet, unsettling novel that lingers long after its final page. The memoir like novel is narrated by Tony Webster, who looks back on his friendships, his first love, and a moral failure he barely understood at the time of his youth. What begins as a calm story in nostalgia gradually turns into an examination of how memory deceives, and flatters us.

The author is less interested in what happened than in how we remember what happened. Tony believes he has lived an ordinary, decent life, but a late-life inheritance forces him to confront the possibility that his past actions had darker consequences than he imagined.

The writing is spare, precise, and simple. Barnes resists sentimentality, allowing ambiguity to do the emotional work. The novel ultimately asks unsettling questions about responsibility, guilt, and time. Do we ever truly understand our own lives, or do we merely settle for a version that feels bearable? It is a small book with a profoundly disturbing aftertaste.

This 2011 Booker Prize winning, witty, cynical and ironic novel is my “Read of theWeek”

The Cat’s Table

Cat's TableWe all have an old knot in the heart we wish to untie.”
― Michael Ondaatje, The Cat’s Table

 The Cat’s Table by Michael Ondaatje is a luminous novel about memory, chance, and the strange alchemy of growing up. The story is set aboard a ship sailing from Colombo to England in the early 1950s. It follows a 11 year-old boy, Michael, who is seated at the ‘cat’s table,’ the least prestigious place in the dining room, far from the authority of adults. From this marginal position, the novel unfolds the ability to see the world obliquely, through curiosity rather than control.

Ondaatje writes with a restraint that is deceptive. The plot is episodic, almost drifting, mirroring the ocean that carries its characters. Michael and his companions—Cassius and Ramadhin move through a floating society of eccentrics, which includes a jazz pianist in disgrace, a mysterious prisoner, a silent tailor, and adults whose private griefs remain partially hidden. These encounters linger like half-remembered stories, suggesting that childhood understanding is always incomplete.

What elevates The Cat’s Table beyond a simple coming-of-age tale is its adult consciousness looking back. The older narrator reflects on how friendships, betrayals, and moments of wonder gained meaning only years later. Memory, is less an archive than a reconstruction shaped by emotion and loss.

The sea voyage becomes a metaphor for life in transition between cultures, innocence and knowledge, belonging and exile. There is no dramatic climax, no grand revelation. Instead, the novel leaves a gentle ache, the sense that some journeys matter not for where they end, but for the fleeting connections made along the way.

The Cat’s Table is a beautiful novel on how childhood experiences quietly, irrevocably shape the adults we become. This bittersweet story of memory & place, of three boys who take a journey by sea from one world to another, which flourishes in the gaps between fact and fiction is my “Read of the Week”

River of Smoke

150px-River_of_smoke“Opium is like the wind or the tides: it is outside my power to affect its course. A man is neither good nor evil because he sails his ship upon the wind. It is his conduct towards those around him – his friends, his family, his servants – by which he must be judged”

– Amitav Ghosh, River of Smoke

River of Smoke, is a novel on trade, empire, and cultural encounter in the age of the Opium Wars. The story is set in Canton in the 1830s, where the novel shifts from the sea-bound drama of Sea of Poppies (first in the Ibis trilogy ) to a more contemplative, cosmopolitan world shaped by commerce and ideas.

Canton, in this story is neither completely Chinese nor European, it’s a place where merchants, sailors, painters, and exiles coexist uneasily. Characters such as the opium trader Bahram Modi and the painter Robin Chinnery are not heroic figures but moral intermediaries, caught between profit and conscience. Through them, Ghosh explores how global capitalism takes root not only through violence, but also through everyday transactions, friendships, and compromises.

The novel is dense, patient, and immersive, demanding attentive reading. Historical detail is worn lightly, yet it is a critique of imperial greed and cultural misunderstanding. Unlike conventional historical fiction, River of Smoke resists dramatic climax, choosing instead to trace the slow, inexorable drift toward catastrophe.

‘River of Smoke’, a brilliant historical fiction set in late 19th century China is my “Read of the week”.

Snow

“How much can we ever know about the love and pain in another heart? How much can we hope to   understand those who have suffered deeper anguish, greater deprivation, and more crushing disappointments than we ourselves have known?”
― Orhan Pamuk, Snow

Snow is a powerful, unsettling novel set in the snow covered isolation of Kars, a remote Turkish town and uses this landscape as a crucible for deep cultural, political, and emotional conflict.

At the heart of the novel is Ka, a poet and returned political exile, who arrives in Kars hoping for poetic inspiration and solace, and possible reconnection with an old love, Ipek. As the town becomes caught in a tense standoff between secularists, Islamists, and political opportunists, Ka’s personal longings become entangled in tragic social realities.

Pamuk’s strength lies in his subtle, unsentimental portrayal of clashing worldviews. He reveals how secularism, religious fundamentalism, political ambition, all contribute to heartbreak, betrayal, and disillusionment. The snow itself becomes a metaphor for erasure, silence, and the fragility of truth.

Through Ka’s inner turmoil and bursts of poetic inspiration, Pamuk reflects a universal search for identity, belonging, and meaning in a world fractured by ideology. The result is a novel that is both timely and timeless, a stark meditation on faith, freedom, and the cost of dividing lines.

 This political thriller set in Turkey is my “Read of the Week”