This was not the book I thought it would be. Par for the course, since Chennai is not the same for two people who grew up in the same city during the same time.
Written during the lockdown when the city was brought to it's knees, the author tries to remember the Chennai he knew through various memories associated with the city as a healing process. There are vignettes of history of the city, but it is dominated by the writing circuit and the author's take on the struggles.
Some chapters had my full heart. There is one chapter that talks about the hillocks of Chennai and one on the work that is continuously ongoing from chrompet to Anna Salai. There was trivia about beef consumption and origin of Burma bazaar.
Most of the book I was comparing notes with the Chennai I knew, i grew up in and was trying to find resonance. The only chapters that I was able to relate to was Landmark books (meeting friends there and the occasional running into celebs) and one on the Devanar Pavanar library that saw me, on my low days.
Cities, standalone, don't have memories. It's the people and their stories that make them belong to a city. I liked the book.