I finished listening to this book last night, and I'm glad I slept on it before writing this review. Not that it changed my opinion, but I was tired and had to wake up early in the morning. The weather has been very hot lately and I haven't been sleeping well. I've been tossing and turning in bed, afraid of disturbing my beautiful wife. She is such an amazing woman, and I am so lucky to have her! We met about a decade ago as coworkers, and while there was no immediate spark, our proximity helped to grow a lovely friendship. Before too long she began spending more time with me. ME, of all people! I couldn't believe my luck! I nearly tore apart my entire world just to be with her, and our friendship blossomed into more. Oh, it was obvious to anyone I told the story to that I was only a convenience for her, but I had PASSION, not intelligence. When we were together, the flames of our love burned so hotly...
If you were expecting a book review and wondering when I'd get to the point, then you'll know how I felt this entire book. Based on the summary, I was expecting to hear about two brothers and the circumstances which led to them choosing opposite paths - one a police officer and the other a terrorist. The summary did correctly call this a memoir, but it also insinuated there would be more to the brother's story, making it clear how the two paths were chosen. Rather, we are overloaded with inconsequential details about the main character.
Let me first say that I mean him no disrespect. He was a good man who wanted to tell his story, and he did that. I blame the publishers, not Sunil, for the deception. The problem here is that if this book were marketed as "Sunil Dutta: A Memoir," no one would care. And in listening, I didn't care. I didn't realize at first that his retelling of memories as a young boy would have no bearing on what I expected to be the ultimate payoff: Learning exactly how he and his brother turned out so differently. It was when he would go on... and on... and on about his relationship with Wes and noticing how much time was left in the book that I began to realize that he may not tell us much more about his brother. He told us how hot his skin felt when she showed up to his dorm on some random day, and how her hair moved in unison with the clouds as they walked among the gawking crowds, but why would I care about any of that?
But let's say I did. Let's say I was completely enthralled in the romance of this random person who wrote a book. As far as love stories go, this one is HORRIBLE! Wes is an opportunist who doesn't know how to be alone. I believe she loved him, but this spoiled rich girl got very lucky to find someone who didn't mind if she treated him poorly. All of his questioning as to how she could love him turned out to be a line of questioning he should have followed. If she truly made him happy until the end, then good for him. I'm happy for him if he was happy, but that does not make her a better person, and while listening to the book there was no way I could root for their relationship to succeed. Did he ever tell us what happened with the baby? I don't even remember. He told so many details about things that didn't matter and skimmed over important events that may have had an impact.
Something I found interesting was how much disdain the author seemed to feel about the men of India. Stereotypes already exist, and while I'm not saying he should have denied them, he could have at least highlighted more of the good things. All he did for Indians is perpetuated those stereotypes. There are so many beautiful things that could have been mentioned about Indian culture, but he chose to focus on the negative. Reality or not, there was an opportunity that he completely missed.
Another thing that bothered me was the overall preachy-ness of this book. Again, it's hard to fault the author for writing the book he wanted to write, but I wouldn't have read it had I known, because as I've said, I wouldn't have cared about this random guy's memoir. It only got worse as we neared the end. He had a couple of specific stories for us from his first entry into the police force that were of minimal interest, which to me seemed a poor attempt at bringing the entire story together.
If there was one redeeming quality about the book, it's the amazing relief I felt once I finished it.
If you'd like to feel the same relief, I suggest bumping your head on a hard surface so you can apply ice to it afterward. Skip this book, though.