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A friend mistakenly spoiled the lead's suicide. I was annoyed at first but now I'm grateful. I couldn't have possibly gone on with the book without knowing that she meets her maker. People say it reads differently each time you read this book. Well, I hate reading it the first time.

Travelling through Albania and North Korea, the good doctor performs much more than a preliminary survey by deducing the hopes and fears of the people he encounters. Also revealing are the dialogues and actions of his fellow travelers. A thoroughly rich description so far, albeit a bit dismal. But that comes with the territory I suppose.

Done with part one. Seems like the usual self-help book written by a business school prof collating a diverse set of convincing cases that are meticulously selected to forward the central thesis: we are all capable of being mistaken. Hence, always strive to think again.

Obvious comparisons with Houellebecq aside, it is the constant provocation that jumps you at the start, and it never really dies down as Mr. Chinaski keeps stooping lower with every passing chapter. But that’s not the pull of this book. It is the abject absence of regret, the debauchery not mindless but mindful, that awes you and keeps you hooked. Yet to discover the poetic philosophy in these filthy pages.

Oppenheimer's career blew up after the development of the bomb. But just like an over-inflated rubber balloon, his influence and reputation teetered on the verge bursting. Which is fitting for a man like him. A slow and steady decline into obscurity would have been patently uncharacteristic.

It is said that the worth of a man is judged by the enemies that he keeps. Even along this measure he stands miles apart.

I can feel the epic style and substance this book must’ve carried in the original Tamizh version. Alas my limited learning limits me to this English translation, which is not half bad, but has definitely lost three quarters of the charm of the original, of that I’m sure. I am pleased to report that the usual obsequies hero worship ever present in (South) Indian cinema fits quite naturally in this narrative.

The bomb created under his supervision was a cornerstone for humanity: diplomacy and geopolitics, science and philosophy, the limits of human endeavour were forever transcended. Simultaneously the change in Oppenheimer was equally drastic albeit at a much smaller scale. Its as if his own personality was a microcosm of the effects of his ungodly creation. But the diabolical decisions of USA still take centre stage.

Arriving at Los Alamos through a tempestuous adolescence, radical political activity, several girlfriends and a lot of groundbreaking physics, the book does attempt to present many facets of it’s subject’s life but is ultimately a sympathetic account, or perhaps, the good doctor was such a personality that remains untouched by the upheavals surrounding it.

Precociousness engenders varied emotions in those who encounter it. Most are mightily amused by it, some are impressed, some might get jealous, others a bit frightened even. But never ever is anyone unaffected by a child too intelligent for his age. In the case of Oppenheimer, great intellectual potential was coincident with immense material privilege. It could conveniently be said that his greatness was guaranteed.

The sheer width and density of the scope of this book requires a sound grounding, on the part of the reader, in mathematics, physics, biology, psychology and philosophy. Although the author presumes this minimum scholarly aptitude of his audience, even a layman can appreciate the remarkable parallels in the disparate disciplines of knowledge described here in a steady but deep flow of discourse.

Heartening it is that an amateur author is able to illustrate a people's history in all its richness and subtlety, through engaging prose, both witty and learned, surely a vestige of the long career in advertising but at the same time heartfelt and intimate like cherished childhood memories. Being the first of three books that were written post fifty years of age, it gives me hope that there is hope for me too :')

Swinging between abstract aesthetic analysis and teenage anxieties about women in pre-war Imperial Japan, foraying into discussions about natural law and the merits of alternative jurisprudence in one of the chapters, surprising the reader by quoting extensively from the manusmriti, and thus, also hinting at the Pan-Asianism burgeoning during that time.

From New York City of late 1940s to London of early 1600s with interludes journeying ancient world of Mesopotamia, slowly but steadily a theme emerges through beautiful retellings of the life and times of men (and women) of science such as the very famous Charles Babbage and (now largely forgotten) Lady Ada Lovelace.

Contiguous stories of Nick as he transitions into adulthood, describing his meetings with lovers, friends and strangers among other tales of bullfighting and European vacations.

Once again Ghosh has turned this novel to exhibit his meticulous research on the maritime trade through the Canton port, inevitably bringing the plot progression to a snail's pace. But then there is a lot in it for those who are into European trade outposts in China, miscegenational bastardy, Chinese cookery, the erstwhile art scene in Canton, and of course, botany. Hoping that it picks up speed in its last leg...

Choosing to dispose the dozen or so major characters of the prequel novel, this one instead reserves its attention for two new protagonists. Another trade-off was to not continue the heavy colloquialisms and simplify the dialogues, letting the setting, plot and characters define the authenticity of the writing. Major cameo appearances entail.

Assiduous plotlines intertwine toward the schooner, against an approaching calamity, shading all the thoughts and actions of the characters with irony. However, although the novel conveys a plethora of relevant events and processes from the past, one wonders if it becomes primarily a carriage for them. It's as if there is an excess of self awareness of the historical importance of the era it is set in.

The larger scope of the novel is now revealed as the narrative progresses quickly, with the emergence of multiple lead characters rather than a single protagonist, interweaving historical phenomena with spurty dialogue which seems real enough with the frequent reliance on contemporary colloquialisms.

Explorations of the environments of the era is a quick succession of chapters, the novel's occasional usage of a particular parlance and ample sprinkling of queer words, might deepen the thematic setting or could be distracting as easily.

Among Europeans and Americans in African settings, we are reminded now and again, how a woman can be the ultimate ruination of a man.

The sophistication of craft, rarefaction of personage, and a parallel decay in relations closes to completion, with him at the global literary summit, surrounded by shattered fragments of those once close to him. Depressingly, Vidia remains as unfulfilled as ever, unable to savour the achievement of ambitions, cherished since childhood, earned through an arduous destructive life. Perhaps the alternative being worse.

The deliberate deracination doesn't deem decidedly well for Vidia, as the transplantation to England turns tough. Now doubly displaced, he resolves to remain removed from any and all relations, be it personal, political or social. Courting desolation for the purpose of writing well, in service of literature, a prickly personality emerges. But the gamble begins to pay up when Vidia beats the English at their own game.

A conventionally poor Indian childhood in an unconventional colonial Trinidadian setting tried to check a precocious Vidya in futility. On the contrary, it was this lack of means that propelled him to Oxford, serving as a dreadful promise of economic stagnation and intellectual coma had he failed to leave. Thousands of miles away, in England, it still haunted him as prejudice. But he didn't settle for deprivation.