I've read a few good books. I really did.
The first one was The white Tiger by Aravind Aviga. The book was a present from Ab. and it really reminded me of The Reluctant Fundamentalist by Mohsin Hamid when it came to the narrative layout. Of course, the degree of likability of the main character is different and The White Tiger manages almost the impossible in depicting the biography of a rather vile person who seems, at times, almost endearing in his effort to change his destiny. It must be the underdog halo which always made me like Tom better than Jerry. I guess that's a childish comparison. The Fundamentalist is the book that I left behind, in London, in Petra's house. She was a German living in UK and might have had a sudden revelation of the usually unnoticed hues of the mingling effort. But maybe she didn't, who knows?

I''ve also read The Vegetarian by Han Kang, a recent Booker Prize laureate who reminded me of the deep almost magical sadness of Murakami, but the base note like in the layers of a perfume, was more palpable and alienated. A void opened after reading it, but the style assured a paced up dynamic fueled by desire and hypnotic treatment-like mood.
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