Diary of what became a very reluctant reader …
Shantaram, by Gregory David Roberts
Day 1. Okay, let’s make some time and do this. Two years ago a friend gave me a copy. She was lyrical about it. He couldn’t tell me why, and answered my questions with only “You just have to read it … I can’t mess up the plot now, right?” The nearly a thousand pages kept me away from reading it. But now I feel ready. Let’s do this.
Day 2. I’m close to page 100 now, and I’m not sure why so many people are raving about this book as enthusiastically as they do … I find their writing style utterly boring, with Usual Suspects filling the pages: Expats Somewhere In a tropical city, hang out at a lousy waterhole, get involved with sex, drugs, and rock ‘n roll. God, how unoriginal can one be …?
Another thing that really bothers me is the excessive amounts of useless chatter. Couldn’t editors just pull out their red pens and do what they’re supposed to do: get all the dead wood out? Maybe it will occur to me later. Let’s try the next 100 pages. Only 800 to go to the end.
Day 7. I started reading diagonally. Man needs too many words to tell a story. And it is also so badly written … Sad! Will I give up or will I try again? Okay, to the author’s credit – I’ve actually assigned a page because I liked some of his sentences. A meager crop, after nearly 200 pages. Most authors are finishing their stories now, heading for a fascinating ending of sorts. This man is still picking up his pace; go nowhere in particular, aside from another deep dive into his memory, regurgitating conversations he once had and which, to any other author, should not have been turned into a book. And honestly, I don’t see it approaching my heart …
Okay, to the author’s credit, I liked this part: “… some feelings sink so deep into the heart that only loneliness can help you find them again. Some truths about you are so painful that only shame can help you to live with them. They. And some things are so sad that only your soul can cry for you. “
Day 10. Finished the first part. Only 780 pages left.
Long ago it took me is I long to read a book.
Why the hell did my friend like it so much?
Day 15. Drastic measures are required. I am increasing the pace of my speed reading. Page 286.
Day 18. That’s it. I have given it another 100 pages and have exceeded the magic limit of 1/3. This is clearly not working. For the first time in a long, long, long time, I decide to put the book back on the shelves. Unfinished.
It reminds me of this scene from the movie Amadeus, about Mozart. The composer performs a piece for the emperor who cannot get too excited and, based on the words of his advisor, says: “Too many notes …” The barbarian! How do you dare?
But it’s exactly how I feel about Shantaram.
A quick calculation tells me that the book contains about 300,000 words.
Even half of that would have been on the rich side.
No.
Not for me.