The Bloodstone Papers

This was one of those books that I didn’t exactly ENJOY, you know, but that I couldn’t put down nonetheless. (Or is that just me?)

This isn’t the kind of book that I usually read but the storyline and the mode of narration piqued my curiosity and I read it anyway.

It’s basically about a lonely middle-aged Anglo-Indian whose primary obsession is a book that he’s writing about his family history. It’s a story that starts with a bloodstone ring that his father gets swindled out of. The story is quite arresting and we get to experience the charm of India in the 1940’s, not from an Indian or a British perspective, but a wholly new one, in the bargain.

I think my favourite character in the book is his mother. She’s a character who develops fascinatingly, though she actually developed backwards. She starts off dull, a stereotypical mother, if you will; and then we discover her past. It’s a symbol of how mothers force the essence of their personality to the background and live through their children. It was hard for me to reconcile, to be honest.

Overall, it was a good book.


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