Original title: The God of Small Things
Edition Language: Russian
Genres: Historical Fiction
The year is 1969. In the state of Kerala, on the southernmost tip of India, fraternal twins Esthappen and Rahel fashion a childhood for themselves in the shade of the wreck that is their family. Their lonely, lovely mother, Ammu, fled an abusive marriage to live with their blind grandmother, Mammachi, their beloved uncle Chacko, and their enemy, Baby Kochamma, grandaunt. When Chacko's English ex-wife brings their daughter for a Christmas visit, the twins learn that things can change in a day, that lives can twist into new, ugly shapes, even cease forever, beside their river...
This book literally broke me. I do not what happened and why this somehow ordinary family drama resonated with me so much. I cannot deny that the greatest impact was made by the author's style. The story unfolded in some sort of honey stream around me making me comfortable and sleepy, extraordinary description of ordinary things made me feel light and cheerful watching two small twins at their games.
The story jumps from one situation to another in such a way, that a reader, enchanted by the lyrical style comes out to a bloomy clearing in the woods of life, he can see green grass flowers of various colors and bees. But something is not right, while walking through this flourishing lushness, we find different pieces of decomposing body, with all its ugliness and horror: envy, spite, hate, despair and loneliness. All those pieces can be placed together to form a body of blind fate that struck and smashed this family, leaving everyone with broken heart to linger out their lives.
I had a great temptation to search for a guilty party: nothing happens without ignition, but being guilty of one thing does leave a person responsible for the events that gather speed fed by incidents, misunderstandings and small things. It is better to leave it alone and perceive it as random, chaotic as a swollen river, exhibition of fate.