![]() ![]() ![]() He rang for room service, and a tired bearer came to take away the plates and bones. The wild, overgrown garden was full of the whisper and scurry of small lives. The walls, streaked with moss, had grown soft, and bulged a little with dampness that seeped up from the ground. The old house on the hill wore its steep, gabled roof pulled over its ears like a low hat. ![]() ![]() From the very first page on (as you can see in the quote below), you’re instantly immersed in this weird and different kind of world. It reminded me of the feeling I have when drinking milky oolong tea, being immersed in its soft taste and a smell that cocoons you in. A place where you roam around tentatively, not knowing what awaits you around the corner, set in a soft, dreamy and “creamy” kind of atmosphere (stealing that last expression from one of my fellow book club participants since it simply fits perfectly as an explanation □ ). To start with the positive parts first, I would describe reading “The God of Small Things” with the sensation of stepping into a mystic maze. It’s quite difficult to put the reading experience of “The God of Small Things” in words because it was marked by so many ups & downs for me. ![]()
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