Search Results

Standing in a queue at the checkout counter, I browsed the rack displaying an assortment of mouth fresheners and small snacks. That’s when I noticed that Happydent, a chewing gum that used to retail for 10 bucks five years ago is now priced at Rs 25. That’s a 150% price rise. I’m sure that beats inflation by a mile. Happydent isn’t the only one hiking prices citing higher costs. Some take less obvious routes to arrive at the same outcome. That’s where shrinkflation, skimpflation and excuseflation come in. These phenomena are not new even though shrinkflation had its moment in the limelight thanks to an ostensibly unscripted remark by President Joe Biden in his 2024 State of the Union address. Biden remarked on how there were fewer snickers bars in a party pack. Politicos snickered (forgive the pun) at Biden’s late awakening to the issue of shrinkflation but frankly, late or not, it’s still an issue for people dealing with an ever-rising cost of living. Let’s break down what each of these terms mean. WHAT IS SHRINKFLATION? Shrinkflation is when a company reduces the quantity or size of a product while keeping the price unchanged. For example, Orbit now sells five pieces of chewing gum instead of six for the same price. The same could be said about a ketchup bottle that looks the same as earlier but contains 20 ml less ketchup, or instant noodles that weigh less. In other words, manufacturers downsize products to offset higher production costs but keep retail prices the same, hoping to trick customers into believing that things remain unchanged. One way to achieve this is to change the packaging in a way that distracts the consumer from noticing the reduction in quantity or by including more air in the package as has been the case with packaged air also known as Lays potato chips! WHAT IS SKIMPFLATION? Skimpflation focuses instead on reducing the product’s quality rather than the quantity while maintaining the same price. This can be done by using low-quality ingredients or cutting down certain aspects of the product or service. Whether it is lower-grade coffee beans blended with Arabica beans being passed off as 100% Arabica or a hotel cutting costs by offering less frequent housekeeping or not providing free WiFi, it all falls under the umbrella of skimpflation. In fact, brands sometimes may even increase prices while cutting quality. So, what you get is the opportunity to pay more for lower-quality goods. This has an added advantage for the company because these products, especially appliances, don’t last as long as they should, resulting in increased demand caused by replacement purchases. That’s planned obsolescence , which is a topic for another post. WHAT IS EXCUSEFLATION? First, it’s a very clumsy term. How about we call it shamflation? That rolls off the tongue a lot easier and keeps the alliteration going. Excuseflation, or shamflation, as I like to call it, is when companies raise prices and blame it on inflation. For instance, as soon as the Russia-Ukraine war erupted, global oil prices sky-rocketed. Indian oil-refining companies, however, procured oil from Russia at lower rates. Fuel prices were hiked regardless, and have remained at roughly those levels ever since. The average Joe continues to pay through his nose while the fat cats purr happily all the way to the bank. BUCKING THE TREND Are there any exceptions to this trend? I’m sure there are, but not too many. A few weeks ago, I watched a report about Arizona Iced Tea . The company’s owner, Don Vultaggio spoke of not wanting to increase the price of their cans despite an increase in the cost of ingredients. Even the price of aluminium used to make their cans has doubled over the years. Photo Courtesy: AriZona Iced Tea Facebook Page Arizona Iced Tea was launched in 1992 and priced at 99 cents. The brand has kept their prices steady for the most part, barring a few variants. They did, however, reduce the size of their cans from 24 oz to 22 oz. But it’s vital to keep in mind that if the price of Arizona Iced Tea cans were adjusted for inflation, those cans should cost $2.30 today. That’s more than double. Keeping the price at 99 cents for more than three decades despite competitors raising prices is no small feat and worthy of appreciation. That its parent company, Arizona Beverages is privately-owned probably has something to do with it. Most companies with shareholders are usually more focussed on boosting shareholder profits than serving their customers. CONCLUSION That’s the story of shrinking products and soaring prices. While there isn’t much customers can do with phenomena as wide-spread as this but being aware of the manipulation is a step in the right direction. Also a good idea is calling it out in person and on social media. #shrinkflation

She who became the Sun is a historical fantasy novel about desire, destiny and the desire to alter one’s destiny. Published in 2021, this is Shelley Parker-Chan’s debut novel and the first book of The Radiant Emperor series. She who became the Sun is a reimagining of the rise to power of the Hongwu emperor, better known as the founding ruler of the famed Ming dynasty. The twist in this reimagined tale is that it is the story of a girl who is foretold a life that will amount to nothing while a glorious future is predicted for her brother. This girl, who remains unnamed (in a deft touch by the author), so little does she matter, goes on to survive, then thrive and eventually conquer. All this, while she fears the wrath of Heaven for stealing her brother’s destiny. I surmise that Parker-Chan was influenced by elements of the legend of Mulan which is the story of a girl who disguises herself as a man to serve as a soldier during the Northern and Southern dynasties era (4th to 6th Century CE) of Chinese history. Though the similarities end there, the plot of a woman literally fighting her way through a man’s world lends itself well to talking about identity and gender roles which is something that She who became the Sun does well without being preachy or unmindful of the time period depicted. As in any work of historical fantasy, world building plays an important role in She who became the Sun . It helps readers get a better understanding of the characters and their circumstances as well the rules and laws under which they operate. Though this is not the kind of fantasy which has flying dragons and other mythical creatures, we still need to be able to imagine a world far removed from anything we’ve seen. The descriptions are immersive without being excessive and precise while being fresh. “The feasting and drinking had begun several hours ago, and the air was greased with the aroma of stone-roasted lamb.” An image like that is evocative with the kind of sensory specificity that makes all one’s senses come alive to conjure up the scene. She who became the Sun is a very engaging tale spun expertly. Shelley Parker-Chan’s novel is spread over decades and varied locations and is narrated through the perspectives of multiple characters. Add to this some pithy lines and you’ve got a historical saga on your hands. “To win a hundred victories in a hundred battles is not the pinnacle of skill. To subdue the enemy without fighting is the pinnacle of skill.” To me, these lines sound like they just stepped off the pages of Sun Tzu’s military treatise, The Art of War , bringing with them the atmosphere of that era as well as establishing She who became the Sun as a tale about the battles of life and empire. One of the primary perspectives in the novel is that of Zhu Chongba (the unnamed protagonist who adopts her brother’s name). Incidentally, Zhu means ‘red’ in Chinese which is the colour of good luck while Chongba refers to ‘double eight’, another good luck charm. Zhu is resourceful and a quick learner with the good sense to hide her searing ambition under a shroud of detachment and humility befitting a monk. Her journey takes her from a starving child to a monk to a soldier and eventually, a commander in the rebel army of the Red Turbans fighting against the Yuan emperor’s rule. The other POV characters in She who became the Sun are Yuchun, a common thief-turned-soldier and Ma Xinying, a woman whose future appears to hold not much more than being the wife of a commander even though she is a natural diplomat and tactician herself. The perspective, however, that holds a sway equalling that of Zhu Chongba, is that of General Ouyang, the eunuch general in the army of the Prince of Henan who fights for the Yuan emperor. The character of General Ouyang is a fascinating one – a man with the beauty of a woman who fights alongside Esen, the heir of the Prince of Henan. Esen's father had massacred Ouyang's family and left only him alive but castrated, to serve as his son, Esen’s slave. In terms of backstory, General Ouyang is reminiscent of Shakuni, the conniving uncle of the Kauravas in the transcendent Indian epic, The Mahabharat . The characters of General Ouyang and Zhu Chongba act as foils to each other with the threads of destiny pulling them ever closer, both to each other as well as to the ends that each of them believe is their predestined fate. One of the strongest elements of She who became the Sun is the dialogue. Parker-Chan uses it exquisitely to reveal character, especially of those who hold their cards particularly close to their chests. Sample this exchange between Lord Wang, the Prince of Henan’s adopted but barely tolerated son, and General Ouyang. “Lord Wang, who relished his own pain, had always known how to wound others. When Ouyang didn’t respond, Lord Wang said with a bitter kind of understanding, ‘My brother’s an easy person to love. The world loves him, and he loves the world, because everything in it has always gone right for him.’ Ouyang thought of Esen, generous and pure-hearted and fearless, and knew what Lord Wang said was true. Esen had never been betrayed or hurt or shamed for what he was – and that was why they loved him. He and Lord Wang, both in their own different ways. They understood each other through that connection, two low and broken people looking up to someone they could never be or have: noble, perfect Esen. ‘He was born at the right time. A warrior in a warrior’s world,’ Lord Wang said. “You and I, General, we were born too late. Three hundred years before now, perhaps we would have been respected for what we are. You as a Manji. Myself as someone who thinks that civilization is something to be cherished, not just fodder for conquest and destruction. But in our own society’s eyes, we’re nothing.’ …But Ouyang and Lord Wang were alike. For a moment they stood there in bitter acknowledgement of it, feeling that likeness ringing through the space between them. The one reviled for not being a man, the other for not acting like one.” In this exchange that takes up little more than a page, Shelley Parker-Chan fillets two characters to reveal their innermost desires and regrets while alluding to the strengths of a third. All this, while each character stays consistent to their nature. In some books, but more often movies, one gets the feeling that certain bits of dialogue are being spoken only for the reader/viewer’s benefit. A sort of artless dumping of information to get the reader/viewer up to speed. In contrast, the dialogue in She who became the Sun is a fine blend of characterization, exposition, cultural attitudes and genuine conflict between characters, making the exchanges feel real rather than performative. Likewise, the themes of identity, gender roles and destiny are woven in seamlessly as the warp along the weft of the plot in the fabric of She who became the Sun. There are quite a few strong female characters who manage to outmanoeuvre the strait-laced paths set for women, thereby creating their own spheres of influence. And of course, there are the obvious parallels of the dual identities of Zhu Chongba, a woman disguised as a man and General Ouyang, a man who has been robbed of his masculine identity. I thoroughly enjoyed She who became the Sun and do recommend that you get your hands on a copy. I’d like to end with a morsel of information that caught my eye. Parker-Chan worked as a diplomat in South-East Asia, where she became addicted to epic East-Asian historical TV dramas. To feed that obsession, she searched for English-language book versions of these stories. She didn’t find any and so, decided to write her own. Thus, emerged She who became the Sun . Gentle Reader, let it never be said that watching shows or movies won’t get you anywhere. The webs of one interest can often tangle with those of another to form a third. And some may call that destiny .

We were Liars is a young adult novel about the privileged Sinclair family who spend their summers on their private island, Beechwood, off the coast of Massachusetts. E Lockhart portrays them as the quintessential wealthy American family—blonde, beautiful, and square-jawed—à la Kennedys. The Sinclairs live their lives in the lap of laid-back luxury, with an undercurrent of scheming and grasping for the attention and patronage of the family’s patriarch, Harris Sinclair. This is the sort of family where it is normal to toss out furniture, jewellery, clothes, wedding china and silverware as a way to cope with the end of a marriage. After all, what are art galleries and Tiffany’s for? Granddad and Grandma Sinclair have three beautiful daughters—Carrie, Penny and Bess—known ‘for their cashmere cardigans and grand parties’. Between the three of them, they have seven children, with Cadence, Johnny and Mirren being the older cousins. Along with their Indian-American friend, Gat Patil (who is also the nephew of Carrie’s long-time beau, Ed), they are the ‘liars’ from the novel’s title. Does the epithet of ‘liars’ given to them by Grandma Tipper hint at the unreliability of their accounts? Perhaps. Especially Cadence, since she is the narrator of the story. She tells us she suffered an accident on Beechwood Island when she was fifteen years old. And now she suffers from terrible migraines and can’t recall events surrounding the accident. The subject of what happened that summer is taboo in the Sinclair family. Ostensibly because Cadence’s doctors want her to regain her memory in her own time. The crux of the story is Cadence trying to pry out what really happened that summer. As a result, We were Liars  oscillates between the summer when Cadence and her cousins are seventeen years old and the summer of the accident, two years ago. Cadence's mysterious accident is what spurs along this otherwise fairly uneventful book. Apart from that, nothing really happens in terms of plot except conversations about status and money between the adults and some banal chats and pretentious posturing that only teenagers think of as ‘grown-up’. Even that would be okay if there was some character development. Cadence, the protagonist and narrator, is a whiny, poor little rich girl under the impression that giving away things she didn’t work for counts as charity and somehow morally elevated, compared to her mother and aunts who fight over property, trust funds and heirlooms. It’s all quite pretentious and hypocritical especially when she casually makes elitist remarks which prove the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. “One night, the four of us ate a picnic down on the tiny beach. Steamed clams, potatoes, and sweet corn. The staff made it. I didn’t know their names.” Thoughtless elitism like this never seems to strike her as inconsiderate till the great love of her young life, Gat, who is the only mildly interesting character in the book, shines a light on her obliviousness. Their love story has all the theatrical hamminess of most adolescent love stories but I can’t complain given that this is Young Adult fiction. You could say I signed up for it. That said, Cadence, with her constant self-centred whining about her own misery, is hard to root for. And frankly, her melodramatic description of events had me confused in the beginning (while I was still figuring out if it was literal) and rolling my eyes later. Sample this: “Then he pulled out a handgun and shot me in the chest. I was standing on the lawn and I fell. The bullet hole opened wide and my heart rolled out of my rib cage and down into a flower bed. Blood gushed rhythmically from my open wound, then from my eyes, my ears, my mouth. It tasted like salt and failure. The bright red shame of being unloved soaked the grass in front of our house, the bricks of the path, the steps of the porch. My heart spasmed among the peonies like a trout.” This passage describes Cadence's father’s departure after he decides to separate from her mother, Penny and move to another part of the country. There was no gun or physical violence involved. Not unless you count my palm slapping my forehead at the horror of this purple prose. Apart from Cadence's melodramatic musings, E Lockhart uses a style that mirrors the immediacy and unstructured free flow of a stream of consciousness narrative. It makes sense given the age, personality and mental state of the narrator. The primary theme of We were Liars  is privilege and the corrosiveness of wealth and how it can hold us hostage, even when things look positively rosy from the outside, as it does for beautiful Sinclair family. E Lockhart shows how wealth and forced smiles fill the gaps where relationships and love should have been, perpetuating feelings of hollowness. We were Liars  would’ve been a lot more enjoyable if it didn’t rely so heavily on the twist at the end to elevate the story and if its protagonist was less shrill in her unpunctuated self-pity. The last chapters had some traces of self-introspection. If only they had come sooner.

What was the last thing you purchased? A pack of gum, a t-shirt or half a dozen apples? How much did you pay for it?  If you remember the amount you paid, there’s a good chance you paid in cash. Why is that so? Read on to find out the answer. MY PAY PALS I don’t use a credit card. Never have. Does that impact my credit score adversely? Perhaps, but that’s a conversation for another time or the comment section. The reason I’ve never wanted a credit card, despite being offered many over the years, is because credit cards allow you to spend money you don’t have . I abhor the idea of buying stuff on credit. I know I sound financially illiterate and more than a little old-fashioned but please bear with me. While I do use debit cards, I’ve never stopped using good old cash. In India, we’re currently going through a period of looking down at cash in favour of digital payments for even small purchases like a glass of lemonade. I see the value of not having to dive into my wallet and waiting for change, but I believe that using credit or debit cards and digital wallets like Amazon Pay leave a far greater dent on your savings than using cash. There’s something about pulling out your wallet, fishing out the right amount, counting it, handing it over and waiting for change that has a far greater psychological impact on us than merely scanning a QR code, punching in the amount and tapping a button. This psychological impact is called the “pain of paying”. THE PAIN OF PAYING The term “pain of paying” is based on the feeling of displeasure caused by paying for our purchases. Studies using neuro-imaging and MRIs show that paying stimulates the same parts of the brain that process actual physical pain. I dare say I could’ve told you that without the MRI! You might think that this pain of paying applies only to expensive things. Nope. Any price will do. It’s not as much about the price as it is about giving up something we possess. Money, in this case. One needs to buy stuff with money since love and fresh air aren’t the best modes for barter! But if they were, we’d be loath to part with them too. PICK YOUR PAIN: CASH OR CARD? What we do get to choose is our form of payment. The trouble with using cash is that first, you need to have some in your account. Then there’s the inconvenience of withdrawing it and finally, the annoyance of pulling out your wallet, counting it and waiting for change. In contrast, a single swipe of your credit or debit card or scanning a QR code on your cell phone frees you from these hassles. But it’s not all hunky-dory. Cards and digital payment apps are just means for us to avoid pain in the present, often levying an even higher cost in the future. And I’m not referring only to their sky-high interest rates. SPENDING MADE SMOOTHER Consider this. Making payments has become easier and easier over the last three decades. Why do you think that has happened? To make things easier for the customer? Or is to banish all bends in the road that result in a customer giving sober thought to whether or not, they really need a particular item? And weighing the benefits of acquiring their new purchase against the disadvantages of parting with their hard-earned money? The folks in expensive business suits call it the 'ease of spending', emphasizing the smoothness of the experience. Or is that just a euphemism for a slippery slope? While cards and digital payment apps provide convenience, some cash-backs and discounts to their users, they also share data of our spending habits with businesses which, in turn, use that information for targeted advertising. Digital payment apps and cards make us unmindful of the prices of the stuff we buy and its ultimate utility and value in our lives. That’s why I asked you about the last thing you purchased and its price. SHOP NOW, PAY LATER Another major psychological advantage credit cards have over other forms of payment is that they separate the time   that we consume goods or services from the time we pay for them. They reduce my current pain of paying because my mind doesn’t equate the tapping of a credit card as handing over money. If I pay 160 rupees in cash for an iced coffee, I pay for it roughly around the same time as I consume it. And I feel the pinch of my over-priced coffee. If I put it on a credit card, I pay for it more than a month later. However, at the time that I’m sipping my coffee, it feels almost free. And when I do pay for it, I will never truly register the cost of this over-priced iced drink because it will be clubbed along with a car servicing invoice, my monthly Netflix subscription and grocery bills. FUTURE PERFECT There’s another thing most of us do. At least the optimists. We usually imagine we will have more money in the future than we do in the present, even if the future is only 45 days away. And so, we happily ring up the expense in the present. By minimizing the pain of paying, credit cards create an air of detachment that makes us more willing to spend. On the other hand, paying with cash has in-built salience. THE ROLE OF SALIENCE Salience is a grown-up term for being aware of something. Cheques are slightly less salient than cash but we still have to write out the sum and hand it over. It registers in our mind as a loss when we hand over a cheque. Credit cards have even lesser salience – just a swipe or tap (please note how nowadays, we don’t even need to hand over the card). There's a good chance you may not even notice the amount. Digital payments top even this. Point and tap. You barely need a pulse to pay! So, the next time you think about economising, switch to cash. It'll be an enriching experience. In more ways than one!

You know it’s a rare day when you come across a page-turner about economics written by an economist-turned-politician. In the spirit of full disclosure, you should know that I enjoy books that get clubbed under the genre of economics made fun or pop economics whether it’s Freakonomics and its ‘super’ sibling, Malcolm Gladwell’s bestsellers like Blink and The Outliers or Thomas L Friedman’s more intensive The World is Flat and That used to be Us. Try not to hold this against me! I like what they set out to do – to answer questions about our world. Some of which are related to money while others are about power and access. But more than the answers, what fascinates me are the questions the writers ask and the varied paths they take to arrive at the answers. Yanis Varoufakis poses one such question – Why did the British invade Australia instead of the Aboriginals landing up in London? His answer takes us back 12,000 years to the ‘invention’ of agriculture. Could it be that the seeds of colonialism were strewn by humans starving in parts of Europe and Asia due to a scarcity of food? Many millennia later, the surplus of food that comes from the growing of grain created a ruling class, clergy and ships amongst other things. All of this and a compass made in China gave us global trade. Compare this to the Aboriginals Down Under. A relatively small population with exclusive access to the plentiful flora and fauna of an entire continent meant that they never ran short and so, didn’t need to grow their own food. As a result, they stuck to painting and music in their free time. Varoufakis uses this and many other examples from the long arc of human history to illustrate how necessity is the mother of invention and ultimately, also an engine for growth. Originally written in Varoufakis’ native Greek in 2013, Talking to My Daughter About the Economy was translated to English in 2017. Writing as he does with his young daughter in mind, he sets out to explain how market economies or capitalism came to be, why there is so much financial inequality in the world, the inseverable links between debt and profit, how labour and money markets work in counter-intuitive ways and why bankers exist. All good questions, in my opinion. However, these are also questions that could have sleep-inducing answers. I wouldn’t blame you for imagining the horrors of a PowerPoint presentation but stay with me. This is different. Fortunately for me and anyone else who takes on this book, Varoufakis makes his points in simple language using real-life examples with nary a bar graph or pie chart in sight. I especially revelled in his obvious fondness for story-telling ­­-- dipping into Greek mythology with tales of Icarus and Oedipus sprinkled in along with references to literary classics like Frankenstein and Doctor Faustus to illustrate the pitfalls of unbridled technology and to explain how usury went from being a sin to an integral part of everyday life. Cult classics like The Matrix, Blade Runner and Star Trek make a cameo too, reflecting the conscious and subliminal concerns of people like us, living in an age of increasing mechanization and commercialisation. Varoufakis delves into how the last few centuries witnessed the transformation of 'societies with markets' into market societies. And how, for the most part, exchange value has trumped experiential value in the race that is capitalism. When you think about it, this change touches all aspects of our lives - from what we choose to study, how much time we have to indulge in our hobbies to where we live. For all its positives, I do have one grouse. I’m afraid Talking to My Daughter about the Economy tends to be Euro-centric and some of its deductions too generalised to withstand the test of varied examples. For instance, if surplus is considered a fundamental sign of an economy, then I can understand why the natives of Australia and the indigenous communities in South America didn’t have the means to colonise other countries. What doesn’t sync, however, is why a country like India, with its flourishing trade-links and an economy that amounted to about a quarter of the world’s GDP in the 1700s, never ventured out to Europe, the Americas or Africa? Setting aside my minor quibbles about how a 200-page book doesn’t take into account all of world history, I would concede that it still does a good job of what I suppose, was its primary aim – to make economics interesting and more accessible. After all, here is an economist stating that economists are ‘almost always wrong’ and exhorting the rest of us to take the reins of these matters into our own hands and make better choices . All in all, if you’re someone who thinks that economics is too dull to bother with, replete with jargon and best left to those who care about these things, this is the book for you. It feels like a boisterous and engaging class discussion with Varoufakis being the kind of teacher everyone wishes they had.

Imagine there are no phones or internet and I am out looking for you. I go to your workplace. You’re not there. Then your home. You’re not there either. What is the third place I should check? Give it a thought before you read on. DEFINING A THIRD PLACE Sociologist Ray Oldenburg in his 1989 book The Great Good Place coined the term ‘third place’. It refers to a physical location where people can connect with their community and build relationships outside of work and home. According to Oldenburg, your home and the people you live with are your ‘first place’. The workplace — where people spend most of their waking time — is the ‘second place’. That brings us back to the third place. ‘Third places’ could be considered ‘anchors’ of community life, facilitating and fostering interaction and a sense of well-being. In other words, your third place is a casual, social environment where you can relax, encounter familiar faces and meet new people. WHAT MAKES A THIRD PLACE? Some examples of a third places would be bars, parks, public libraries, religious centres like temples or churches, recreation centres, social clubs, gyms, etc. However, not every public place you like to hang out is a third place. The key distinction being that in a third place, everyone knows your name and you know theirs. To be frank, even an 80% strike rate will do! A sense of community is the main thing. The other characteristics of a third place include easy accessibility and its occupants being under no obligation to be there. Another feature is the irrelevance of one’s socio-economic status, allowing for a sense of commonality. Most third places have no prerequisites that would prevent acceptance or participation. That being said, this isn’t strictly true in case of country clubs and social clubs which do have some requirements for membership. At the very least, a third place needs to be a place where shifting fortunes don’t impact the sense of belonging. A key element of third places is playful and light-hearted conversation, even if it’s not the only activity. The vibe is wholesome rather than fancy. Most importantly, occupants of third places often have the same feelings of warmth, possession, and belonging as they would in their own homes. SOCIAL RELEVANCE In his 1989 book, Ray Oldenburg argued that third places are important for civil society, democracy and civic engagement.  All of these are still required in today’s world. What’s new is the need for people to see each other’s humanity instead of just their political leanings or social status. In the 2025 sequel, The Great Good Place Revisited, Oldenburg's co-author, Karen Christensen argues that third places are the answer to loneliness and political polarization. Come to think of it, social media algorithms have created a world where too many of us are living in virtual silos – where we see only what we agree or engage with. That’s not how human beings were meant to live.   Most people today, especially in cities don’t know their neighbours and even minimal social interaction in places like malls and supermarkets have become optional with large numbers of people choosing to shop online even for daily provisions. This has led to a majority of people suffering from loneliness. EPIDEMIC OR NOT, LONELINESS FEELS BAD I remember reading, a few years ago, several alarmist articles about the dangers of loneliness, spawned by a statement by Dr. Vivek Murthy, former US Surgeon General. He stated, “Loneliness and weak social connections are associated with a reduction in lifespan similar to that caused by smoking 15 cigarettes a day”. Now, that does seem a bit excessive even for someone like me who believes there is a link between healthy social connections and well-being. So, here’s what I got from it: if you’re going smoke, don’t do it alone. That would be a double whammy! COURTING CONNECTIONS Jokes apart, we could all do with third places in our lives. Almost a decade ago, I started frequenting the badminton court in my housing locality. It was at the time, a cracked cement court with no net or lights. Someone or the other would bring a net and so it began. Eventually, we petitioned to have the condition of the court improved. After a few hiccups, it got done. The court was a place for conversation, new friendships, banding together for the welfare of our community dogs (who would join in for petting and socialising) and of course, badminton. The members of this community ranged from 12 years of age to 60 and people looked out for each other. But the best part was a sense of belonging. I’d be driving home from work after a long day and be waved down by someone asking, “Where have you been? Haven’t seen you in a while. Come for baddy.” And even though I would be tired, I’d freshen up, change my clothes and show up. And just like that, even a good day would get a whole lot better. That’s the magic of community and of having a third place. That, dear reader, is what I wish for you.

The Truth about the Harry Quebert Affair is a cold case whodunnit delivered with literary flair. The plot takes you through many hairpin bends while the form and style of the writing make the ride pleasurable rather than merely efficient. Broadly, it is a book about two authors – Harry Quebert, a celebrated senior writer who is arrested for murder, 33 years after a fifteen-year-old girl that he loved goes missing; and Marcus Goldman his protégé who, struggling with writer’s block after his successful first novel, resolves to clear his mentor’s name. If you were to set aside the brief excerpt from a 911 call establishing the fifteen-year-old Nola’s disappearance, the book opens with a prologue depicting Marcus’ life post the best-selling success of his second book. It introduces us to Marcus as the protagonist and narrator. This opening also sets up the basic questions readers are likely to ask about the story that is yet to unfold, focussing majorly on the whodunnit aspect. A shift from the usual is the numbering of the chapters as a countdown starting from 31 down to 1, building anticipation and setting off a subtle ticking clock in the reader’s mind. Dicker also uses a little graphic of a rectangle at the beginning of each chapter that denotes how much of the story has been read. That didn't appear to be of any major significance to me apart from being a design element. The Truth about the Harry Quebert Affair is structured into two timelines. The first is the year 2008 which follows the discovery of the dead body, the ensuing murder case and the writing of Marcus’ second novel. The second thread is from 1975 – and the events around the disappearance of the fifteen-year-old Nola. There is the added element of excerpts from the book that Marcus is writing. To his credit, Dicker is flawless when it comes to signposting the setting and period that the characters are in, within the first few lines of each section. Not once in this 615-page book is the reader left scratching their head wondering where they are in the timeline of events. That’s no mean feat given the complex structure of the novel. As a novel within a novel, The Truth about the Harry Quebert Affair casts a sidelong glance at the cut-throat business of publishing and the kind of machinations that go into creating a buzz around a bestseller. Dicker portrays these tips and tricks of the business as a prism of spin that can refract even a faux pas into appearing like a glimmer of genius. An exchange between Marcus, the young writer and his cynical publisher on the conflict between freedom and economics is thought-provoking. In contrast, the teacher-student relationship between Harry and Marcus is concentrated mainly on the craft of writing. Each chapter begins with an excerpt of the mentor talking to his protégé about writing, boxing or life. Joel Dicker weaves the political landscape of the United States in 2008 into the story giving it a sense of not unfolding in a vacuum. Since the political events that culminated in Obama’s historic victory are well-known to most readers, this device is effective without requiring too much space in exposition. The three main characters – Marcus, Harry and Nola are dynamic and develop throughout the length of the novel. Most of the secondary characters are not one-note characters either and more importantly, have their own motivations. This creates several mini-geysers of conflict which keep the plot bubbling. Dicker employs an array of mythological and literary allusions such as references to Icarus, fallen angels, ‘glory being a Gorgon that could turn you into stone’ and man’s Original Sin. Even Quebert’s celebrated book is called The Origin of Evil. Paradise Lost, anyone? The plot of The Truth about the Harry Quebert Affair illustrates the ripples of wrongdoing in the individual lives of characters flowing into and merging with each other. It also shows how the past informs the present. Other literary touches include motifs like Harry’s residence which comes to signify different things over the course of the story, symbolism, social commentary and satire that doesn’t shy away from looking inward at the narrator, the world of writers and the books they write. While reading this novel, I was struck by the pride of place given to seagulls in it. I have a hunch that Joel Dicker was inspired by the characters and themes in Anton Chekhov’s The Seagull . The play explores the ills of fame and how the pursuit of celebrity usually has disastrous effects. Chekhov’s characters view obscurity as an unbearable fate and grapple with the gulf between their dreams of success and the reality of their mediocrity. Harry, Marcus and a few other characters contend with the same issues. Imposter syndrome and the threat of being exposed as a pretender looms large in both the play and the novel. Art being a replacement for love is another recurring idea in the story. At least three characters in the book are artists and all of them fill a void in their lives with writing or painting. To know out how it works out for them, you’d have to read the book. There’s a piece of advice Quebert gives Marcus – "Never write a book without knowing its ending.” That’s excellent advice for writers, I’m sure. Readers of this page-turner, however, are not likely to drop this book without knowing its ending.

India has probably the cheapest mobile data in the world. Practically everyone with a smartphone has 1 GB of data available to them every day. Some of us also have a broadband connection at home and at our workplaces. All this inexpensive data allows us to scroll for hours through free social media apps – consuming several hours of mostly inane content, keep up with friends, family and sadly, even work emails. Except that it’s not as inexpensive as we think it is. It costs us our ability to concentrate on tasks and perhaps most importantly, our time. Time is irreplaceable even if you were willing to pay for it. Think about it. Something you think is practically free i.e. internet access, robs you of a thing so valuable that, once lost, even the richest person on the planet can’t buy it back - Time. Add to that, another precious commodity, Focus. And yet, you think it costs you nothing. This is perhaps the greatest mind trick of our times – a kind of mass hypnosis. And I’m not even going into the costs of data mining and the ways in which the companies that own our data manipulate us, mostly because I don’t know all the ways. But what I know is scary enough. Some of you may think I’m being alarmist. Read on and then you can decide. Here’s what I’ve observed in my own life. I’ve been a reader for almost as long as I can remember. However, I believe that I used to read faster when I was younger than I do now, mostly because I keep getting interrupted by a bing or a ping. And when that doesn’t happen, I reach for my phone to check if I missed a beep. Confession: I’m guilty of unlocking and scrolling through some or the other app even when I can see that I have no notifications whatsoever. Not even the non-urgent kind. This is pathetic behaviour but I know I’m not alone in this dome of dopamine-addiction. THE MYTH OF MULTI-TASKING Even though I stand under this dome, I’m at least part of the group of people that admit their addiction instead of pretending to be a multi-tasker. The myth of multi-tasking is a seductive one. It paints the incessant phone-checking, email-responding, text-sending while we work, converse or read, as the pinnacle of productivity. It soothes us into propagating the idea that somehow, we've evolved into beings that are able juggle all these balls effortlessly. But truth be told, that’s the kind of stuff that only shows stupendous results in a movie montage set to uplifting music. FOCUS IS INDIVISIBLE In real life, multi-tasking splits your focus and concentration leading to slower progress in whatever you’re doing. Let’s assume I’m writing a report while simultaneously, responding to emails and text messages. While I may want to believe that 80% of my focus is devoted to writing the report and only 20% is spent on responding to a colleague with a brief mail or a quick exchange over text with a friend. Sadly, that’s not how it works. Every time I shift from one task to another, 100% of my focus moves to it. Focus is a currency of sorts. We can choose where we invest it but it differs from money in one very significant way. Unlike money, your focus cannot be invested in two or more areas at the same time. As a result, while I’m sending a meme to a friend, I’m no longer working on my report and my focus is wholly concentrated on the text message. Ten seconds later, I might turn it back to the report but the shift in gears isn’t quite as smooth as we like to believe. I will need to collect my thoughts all over again and read the last few lines I wrote to get back into the flow of things. And just as I do, my phone will buzz with a response to the meme I sent. And the whole cycle begins again. Don’t take my word for it. Basing its conclusions on research findings , the American Psychological Association states that, “shifting between tasks can cost as much as 40% of someone’s productive time”. Which means that if I could’ve written this post in an hour of uninterrupted time, it’ll probably take me at least an hour and 40 minutes to complete if I continue texting, emailing and checking my stock portfolio while I write this. So much for productive multi-tasking! THE AGE OF DISTRACTION I know generational stereotyping is annoying but unfortunately, I meet a lot of people who believe that they are somehow better-equipped to multi-task simply because they grew up in an age where cell phones and the internet are as ubiquitous as pen and paper. Perhaps, even more so (Try borrowing a pen from someone and you’ll see what I mean). And yet, unless Millennials and Gen Z have managed to re-engineer their own pre-frontal and parietal cortices in all the free-time they gained due to multi-tasking, all this talk about being 'natural multi-taskers' is just wishful thinking that doesn’t have any facts supporting it. But again, this fig leaf isn’t used only by Millennials and Gen Z. Anyone who doesn’t want to be parted from their devices usually uses some or the other form of this argument. But the facts remain the same, regardless of your age or argument. We know that it takes longer to complete a task if one is distracted. I know this without any help from the American Psychological Association because I’ve been writing this blog post for more than two hours and I’m still not done! MULTI-TASKING DIMINISHES QUALITY The other aspect of productivity is the quality of the work done. Is quality impacted by multi-tasking? A study conducted at Stanford University on their students, found that self-proclaimed chronic multi-taskers made more mistakes and remembered less than those who multi-tasked less often. Another Stanford study found evidence to support the conclusion that chronic multi-taskers are worse at analytical reasoning as well. David Jones, a professor at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology observed similar patterns amongst his students who, he believed weren’t doing as well as they should be. Jones explained, “It’s not that the students are dumb. It’s not that they aren’t trying. I think they’re trying in a way that’s not as effective as it could be because they’re distracted by everything else.” It goes without saying that students who have made it to a premier institution like MIT aren’t ‘dumb’, which means that perhaps the lack of focus caused by distractions in the guise of multi-tasking is the problem. TRY IT YOURSELF Ultimately, we all need to take a minute and ask ourselves if our minds are more or less focussed when we are being interrupted by our devices. If you can’t answer that, try an experiment. Like I did. It took me about three hours to write this post. I also responded to several messages, monitored the share prices of four to five stocks and bought shares in two, ate lunch and checked my LinkedIn account. Without all these secondary tasks, I could most likely have written this post in little more than an hour. Next time, I’ll keep my phone aside and write on days when I don’t want to buy any shares. Let’s see how that goes. I’ll be sure to report back. And I’d love to hear about your conclusions if you do conduct a similar experiment.

David and Goliath  is not Gladwell’s best work. This comes from someone who has enjoyed his other books even though they can be a tad simplistic at times. Let me start at the beginning, like Gladwell did—with the legend of David and Goliath who were pitted against each other in one-on-one combat. To onlookers, it appeared like David, the young shepherd boy was at a great disadvantage facing the gigantic Goliath, dressed in full armour, carrying a javelin and a sword. Yet, David defeated his opponent using a mere slingshot and a few stones. That sets up the basic premise of Gladwell’s book—that advantages and disadvantages are not always what the world tells us they are. What seems like a weakness can sometimes become a superpower while a universally-acknowledged strength can lead to shocking defeats. Malcolm Gladwell makes the point that rigid and limited definitions of positives and negatives result in the misreading of many a situation or conflict. He serves up the example of T E Lawrence, better known as Lawrence of Arabia, who led the Arab revolt against the Turkish Army occupying Arabia toward the end of World War I. The Turks had a formidable modern army with more than enough weapons and resources. Lawrence, by contrast, commanded an unruly band of Bedouin fighters, which even his supporters—the British—called “an untrained rabble”. In an underdog legend for the ages, Lawrence and his band of soldiers prevailed over the mighty Turks. Each chapter tells the story of a different person—famous or unknown, ordinary or brilliant—detailing how they dealt with their situation. Gladwell uses anecdotes about ordinary people forced to respond to enormous challenges to drive home his idea. There are chapters about students who loved science but gave up on it after getting through their preferred universities (an advantage that turned out to be disadvantageous), dyslexic investment bankers, unempathetic doctors and basketball teams so bad that they had no choice but to break some unspoken rules. In the basketball chapter, Gladwell writes that sometimes being awful at a sport allows you to do what others would baulk at because it seems impossible. “To play by David’s rules you have to be desperate. You have to be so bad that you have no choice. Their teams are just good enough that they know it could never work. Their players could never be convinced to play that hard… You would think, looking at his girls, that their complete inability to pass and dribble and shoot was their greatest disadvantage. But it wasn’t, was it? It was what made their winning strategy possible.” These are some of the effective chapters in David and Goliath . There are other chapters however, which, in my opinion, didn’t quite hit the target. They too are stories about people dealing with challenging or difficult situations. Take for instance, the story of Wilma Derksen. Her thirteen-year-old daughter was murdered but she chose to forgive the man who committed the crime in order to spare her family the emotional, financial and mental strain of a fight for justice. Doesn’t sound much like the proverbial David, does it? Another chapter that felt like it was being forced to fit a box it wasn’t meant for, is about the French village of Le Chambon, which stood up to the Nazis during the German occupation. It’s a great story but even Gladwell isn’t pretending like the people of Le Chambon outsmarted or outfought the Nazis. So, do they qualify to be David? I think not. Herein lies the weakness of David and Goliath —one that it is unable to overcome. Sadly, the book is a bit light on supporting research and tries to make up for it with stories, many of which sparkle but don’t necessarily illuminate. Malcolm Gladwell’s David and Goliath left me thinking fondly of his other books like Outliers and The Tipping Point.

Beautiful World, where are you is not a book for everyone. If you’re the kind of person who likes fast-paced, plot-driven stories, then this is not your kind of novel. Which is not to say that there is no action whatsoever. It’s just that many of what would count as major events take place either before the novel opens or somewhere off the page, and are referred to as having happened in the final chapter which serves as an epilogue. With Beautiful World, where are you,  Sally Rooney sets out to write a story about friendship and love in the midst of economic disparity and an anxiety about human existence. The thread of existential dread or more precisely, a questioning of the true place of an individual with all the cares that occupy our minds in contrast to the larger context of recorded history, our species and the planet is fitting given that Beautiful World, where are you was published in September 2021, after the world had been through multiple lockdowns. This is Rooney’s third novel, following Conversations with Friends and Normal People . I have read neither but I do know that focussing on her protagonists’ coming of age and their relationships is a feature of her novels. And in that sense, Beautiful World, where are you is similar. It is about two best friends (who met in college), Alice and Eileen who are nearing 30. Alice is a successful and much-feted author who moves to an oceanside town in Ireland after a stint in New York where she suffered a mental breakdown. Eileen, on the other hand, works as an assistant editor at a literary magazine in Dublin, making very little money. The main mode of communication between Alice and Eileen is email, in which they discuss their romantic lives and weightier matters such as the collapse of civilization, the end of beauty, commodification of art, the conspicuous consumption of the privileged few built on the backs of the disadvantaged multitude and the strangeness of fame. Dare I say that if it wasn’t for these pithier bits and Rooney’s experiments with narrative style, Beautiful World, where are you could easily be classified as contemporary romance or contemporary women’s fiction instead of literary fiction? Though I must add that I liked Rooney’s style given as it is sparse yet beautiful in how it delves into relationships without devolving into sappiness, with sentences like, “They looked at one another for a long moment without moving, without speaking, and in the soil of that look many years were buried.” Beautiful World, where are you made me question the difference between characters who are aware of and concerned about the world and its socio-economic and political history and those who use it to sound intelligent and well-intentioned. The difference, in my opinion, lies in action. Or more precisely, the choices they make. Else, it comes across as pretentious navel-gazing with citations! The two protagonists talk a good game but we don’t see that much in terms of walking the talk. At least in the case of Alice, one makes the supposition that her novels are about characters dealing with these issues and her political and socio-economic views make their way into her work. Not so with Eileen. Her actions are restricted to reading about ancient civilizations and The Brothers Karamazov  and whining to her friends about their lack of care for her. The other two major characters in the novel are Felix and Simon. Felix is a guy Alice meets on a dating app who has a blue-collar job at a warehouse and a shiftiness that is tough to pinpoint. But Alice persists in her relationship with him even though as readers, we have no idea why. Perhaps, it is supposed to be short-hand to establish how egalitarian Alice is, despite her financial success and how untouched by intellectual snobbery. This, from a character who claims to have created a “a gulf of sophistication” between her estranged family and herself, feels a bit false. For his part, Felix is uncomfortable with the power and intimidation Alice wields as a consequence of her success and financial freedom, till, suddenly, he isn’t. Felix is the most underwritten character of the lot. Simon is the other love interest. He works as a political assistant to a Left-leaning politician. He is also the most religious character in Beautiful World, where are you which is viewed as odd behaviour by the other characters . Given that Sally Rooney is Irish and bases her novels in Ireland, I presume this is a nod to the sharply declining number of people who identify as Catholic in a country which, for centuries, has been recognised as fervently Catholic. In the last census taken in 2022, the percentage of Irish residents who described themselves as Catholics fell to 69% from 84% in 2011. The numbers are starker still in cities like Dublin. But, I digress. Simon Costigan is, we are told repeatedly by every major character, very good-looking and never short of the attention of women. Yet he remains devoted to Eileen who is said to have 'great potential' even though we never see any evidence of the same. She is also a character almost entirely lacking in agency. The little smidgens of agency she displays are only to reject the good things that happen to her, in order to test the depth of interest of the other party. This cloying neediness gets quite trying after a point. Eileen is that person who waits fervently for other people to cajole her to do things she wants to do and sulks in a corner when they fail to coddle her enough. And yet, we are told that Eileen is worthy of great things. Told, but never shown. Even when we are allowed a momentary flashback into Simon’s memory of his relationship with Eileen, whom he has known and adored since they were children, we are none the wiser as to why he loves her so much. I wonder if this makes Simon fall into the category of male characters referred to, on social media, as “men written by women”? His emotional issues are referred to but never explored. We are presented only the symptoms which dovetail neatly into what the female character, Eileen requires for her happy ending. In terms of style and format, Beautiful World, where are you  is partly an epistolary novel where Alice and Eileen send each other lengthy emails. Written in first person, these emails give the reader a peep into Alice’s and Eileen’s beliefs, psyches and emotional worlds. In a sharp contrast to the intimacy of these parts of the novel, there are chapters written in a distant third-person. A perspective so distant that you may feel like the narrator’s level of knowledge about the characters is the same as you, the reader. It reminded me of times when I have sat in a café and watched people seated at the table next to mine. Sample this. “On the platform of a train station, late morning, early June: two women embracing after a separation of several months. Behind them, a tall fair-haired man alighting from the train carrying two suitcases. The two women unspeaking, their eyes closed tight, their arms wrapped around one another, for a second, two seconds, three.” The two women mentioned in the excerpt are the protagonists and the fair-haired man is Simon but the third-person narrator gives us no hint of their inner emotions or thoughts. Rooney carries this off with a great deal of skill though I’m not sure what it establishes for the story itself apart from the author’s skill. To me personally, the bits that sparkled were where the characters speak of relatable things in ways that are poetic, emotional and sadly beautiful like, “We are standing in the last lighted room before the darkness.” That’s the stuff that conjures up a concrete image, stirs up unnamed emotions and points to an idea too ephemeral to be cloistered into words. How friendship changes yet remains the same as our lives progress is a major theme in Beautiful World, where are you. It makes you wonder if one’s friends view us as we were when they first met us and whether one of friendship's virtues is to see potential in our friends that others miss. Beautiful World, where are you also explores the juxtaposition of the personal versus the universal (as in matters that are considered of greater importance such civilization, art or economic models). Is one more important than the other? The weakest link of Beautiful World, where are you  is the ending. It feels like Rooney wanted to wrap it up in a pretty little bow without showing us the character growth that would be required to arrive at such a point. As a result, the ending feels forced and frankly, trite. Before I wrap up, let me make the case for the inclusion of quotation marks. Can we please have them back? Life is confusing enough, what with civilization collapsing around our ears (if you believe the novel’s protagonists)! Characters speaking without quotation marks to signify direct speech just makes the world even more confusing. With due apologies to Friedrich Schiller (whose poem The Gods of Greece is the inspiration for this novel's title), this is my note to the author, editor and publishers of this novel: “Beautiful World, where are the quotation marks?”

Andrew Sean Greer’s  Less  is named after its protagonist, Arthur Less. Arthur is an unremarkable writer in his late forties who decides to travel around the world in order to avoid his ex-boyfriend's wedding. This tour across Mexico, Italy, Germany, Morocco, India and Japan with pit stops in New York and Paris is solely aimed at sparing him the misery of attending the event while side-stepping the embarrassment of declining the invitation. This hastily cobbled-up trip allows him to RSVP with a credible excuse - that he’ll be out of the country. Having accepted all manner of invitations to half-baked literary events and teaching engagements, the junket won’t cost Less any money – another point in its favour. That’s the general plot but what this book is really about is love, aging, self-image, nostalgia and the resilience of the human heart. To me, this novel has two highlights. One, the delightfully satirical but unexpectedly endearing narration of Less’ travels. The narrator is Arthur’s ex-boyfriend of nine years, Freddy and thus, is privy to Arthur’s past and idiosyncrasies. It begins with the kind of gentle leg-pulling expected of old friends and progresses to revealing insights into Less’ character with great tenderness and adoration. Highlight number two is Arthur Less himself. Less, who values himself so little and yet, as the novel goes on, we see what sets him apart from the rest even as he fails to suspect a thing. It's a truism that we like characters for their strengths (of which Less has several— including generosity, absence of rancour and seeing the best in people) but love them for their failings. I loved Arthur Less for his self-consciousness, his self-doubt, his total lack of chutzpah and his severely-misplaced confidence in his tenuous hold over the German language. Greer writes, “The letter is in German; the university is under the impression Arthur Less is fluent in German, and Arthur Less’s publisher, who recommended him, is also under this impression. So is Arthur Less. 'With God’s happiness,' he writes back, 'I accept the pedestal of power,' and sends it off with a flush of pleasure.” This, in response to an offer from a university in Berlin to teach a five-week-long course. In German! Not given to grandiose gestures, long speeches or outrageous vacations, this trip is an adventure for Less—travelling around the world and to the depths of his own heart to figure out who he is now and what he wants. Sometimes, one needs to travel a bit to figure out who or what is home and find your way back. Somewhere between the lines of Less, Andrew Sean Greer explores imposter syndrome . Arthur Less believes that everyone else knows what they’re doing while he fumbles his way through, play-acting in a world that is all-too-real. He minimises his own talent and achievements because he believes that he has been in the presence of true literary greatness and is convinced that he doesn't have it. Another recurring theme in the novel is misunderstandings caused by missed chances, miscommunication and unexpressed feelings. It reminded me of the philosopher poet, Khalil Gibran’s immortal lines, “Between what is said and not meant, and what is meant and not said, most of love is lost.” Greer picks a less than heroic protagonist, imbues him with such specificity, you can almost imagine him in his blue suit, tumbling his way through this rollicking ride. And yet, there are moments so relatable and feelings so universal, you'll be nodding in agreement. About the bittersweet sensation of having loved and lost, Greer writes, “Twenty years of joy and support and friendship, that’s a success. Twenty years of anything with another person is a success. If a band stays together twenty years, it’s a miracle. If a comedy duo stays together twenty years, they’re a triumph. Is this night a failure because it will end in an hour? Is the sun a failure because it’s going to end in a billion years? No, it’s the fucking sun. Why does a marriage not count?” Unsurprisingly, journeys are metaphors that Greer uses to symbolise Less’ life and his taking the time to process it. Rewriting his latest manuscript dovetails into the same narrative of growing and changing as we go along the path of life. And of course, there is Arthur’s most famous work, Kalipso, a retelling of the Calypso myth from the The Odyssey.  Need I say more? Flashbacks from Less' life swirl into the narration every few pages but Greer ensures that they don’t impede the pace of the story while ever so gently feeding the reader crumbs of information that reveal the character of his protagonist. However, there are bits that feel a tad repetitve and kitschy but they didn't put me off. Breezy, funny, heartwarming – it’s all in here. But that’s not all. As is usually the case with most things, Less is more.

The protagonist of Major Pettigrew’s Last Stand is Major Ernest Pettigrew, a 68-year-old widower long retired from the British Army, who lives in a village called Edgecombe St Mary. The novel opens on a day when, having just received the news of his younger brother, Bertie’s demise, Major Pettigrew encounters at his doorstep, Mrs Jasmina Ali, the 58-year-old widowed owner of the village shop. Thus begins the slow-burn love story of an old-fashioned Englishman and an independent-minded woman of Pakistani origin. Major Pettigrew is a stickler for social etiquette and is inordinately-focussed on a pair of vintage Churchill guns his father bequeathed to his brother and himself. Mrs Ali is a woman of quiet dignity and a practical yet empathetic approach, even towards her surly nephew who is set to inherit her store. Published in 2010, Major Pettigrew’s Last Stand is Helen Simonson’s debut as a novelist. She engages the reader in a story more complex and layered than I expected. It’s a love story that is also a social satire in the disarmingly quaint setting of an English village. The usual list of stock characters are all present – the snobbish local Lord who is devoted to the village as long as it serves him well, the oddly-attired activist, the obscenely rich American investor with a desire to acquire some old-world class and the typical urbane, social butterfly American love-interest. Other players on this pastoral stage include the golf-playing club members, a gaggle of do-gooder village ladies, and Major Pettigrew’s loud sister-in-law, Majorie and niece, Jemima. There’s also Major Pettigrew’s only child, Roger who exemplifies everything the older generation holds against younger people. He is obnoxiously ambitious, lacks respect for social propriety and has little time for his father. In a deft twist, the author makes him a foil to his father. They have many similarities, face similar temptations and yet view themselves as being wildly different. Major Pettigrew is an unlikely hero because he holds many of the flawed ways of thinking that Simonson satirizes. It is his love for Mrs Ali who exists on the sidelines of life in the village that broadens his vision. Spending time with Mrs Ali, over cups of tea and copies of Kipling and long walks in town, gives Major Pettigrew an opportunity to see the biases and prejudices held by his friends and neighbours (most of which are shared by him even if he is too polite to voice them). Helen Simonson’s novel is about love and family but also colonialism, culture and the smallness of social convention which is often an excuse to exclude people we consider unlike ourselves. Simonson uses her well-intentioned but flawed protagonist to depict a universal truth – that while we see fit to judge others for their actions, we judge ourselves (if at all) on the basis of our intentions. Major Pettigrew’s Last Stand’s strengths include dry wit, humour and a charming turn of phrase. I’m reminded of an exchange between Major Pettigrew and his son when Roger and Sandy, his American girlfriend are keen on renting a cottage from a racist old lady. Roger attempts to play down his father’s objections when he says, “It’s called the real world. If we refused to do business with the morally questionable, the deal volume would drop in half and the good guys like us would end up poor. Then where would we all be?” “ ‘On a nice dry spit of land known as the moral high ground?’ suggested the Major.” However, do not pick up Major Pettigrew’s Last Stand expecting pace. In fact, there are some parts which, I found a tad bit too descriptive and frankly, a wee bit slow. Furthermore, this is a character-driven novel which understandably requires it to be more introspective. Sadly, apart from Major Pettigrew, most of the characters are abandoned after establishing one or two traits, robbing them of any sort of depth. The most disappointing in that respect is Simonson’s treatment of Mrs Ali, a character with great emotional reserve, intelligence and gumption and yet, we never get an insight into her views on anything weightier than Kipling’s writing. I was looking forward to her character to being fleshed out even if only via dialogue since hers is not the character through whose viewpoint we are told the story. Instead, we get description after description of drawing rooms and a fishing lodge. Nevertheless, this is a heart-warming book about falling in love, cultural barriers and choosing the right thing for oneself and others.