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Roy takes up classic material, but she delights in verbal innovation and stylistic tricks. She runs words together -- "thunderdarkness," "echoing stationsounds" -- and plucks nouns from verbs and verbs from thin air. And she has hit on a striking way of getting at a child's point of view (told in third person, the story unfolds more or less as young Rahel and Estha experience it). When her mother tells a rambunctious Rahel to "Stoppit," Rahel "stoppited." At Sophie's funeral, a bat alights on a mourner: "the singing stopped for a 'Whatisit?' 'Whathappened?' and for a Furrywhirring and a Sariflapping." -- reminds one of the artistry of John Lennon.
Sweet and heartbreaking, ribald and profound, this is a novel sure to invite comparisons with the work of Salman Rushdie and Gabriel Garcia Marquez, while remaining distinctly singular. At times it feels as though you've dropped into a faux Rushdie novel, with cartwheeling corpses and talking statues. Mostly, though, Roy's verbal exuberance is all her own, and it makes "The God of Small Things" a real pleasure. History's lessons may be bitter, but Roy serves them up fresh, pungent and delicious. .
Overview.
The God of Small Things opens with Rahel returning to Ayemenem in India, her childhood home 23 years after some terrible events took place. Gradually the story of the events themselves and the history that led to them unfolds. It is the story of an increasingly dysfunctional family whose members all broke the rules in various ways and crossed into forbidden territory. .
We learn early on in the books that Sophie Mol "the cousin of Rahel and her twin brother, Estha "had died just two weeks into a visit from England. Sophie's mother, Margaret had been married to the twins' uncle, Chako. After Margaret's second husband had been killed in an accident, Chako had invited them out to Ayemenem for Christmas. .
On the day Sophie Mol arrived, the twins' world began to unravel.