Books and the Booker

I have never been one to celebrate the awarded though most times, most awards celebrate something special. Of course, the weight and value of awards has eroded somewhat lately as one of the better ways of getting into a bloke's good books is to, literally, give it an award. A rewarding afternoon with a book in a sunlit part of one's home is often all the reward one needs, and a well upholstered couch is worth 3 extra stars - but since one can't judge a book by its cover alone some other measure of excellence must be depended upon.

And its no easy amble in the park once you have driven past the Sheldons, Chases, Robbins and Macleans and turned the bend on Wodehouse and Austen, accelerated past Grisham and his ilk and honked past Sheth and Roy - driving long and lonely stretches past some of the Latin American and Japanese revolutionary roads and cherry blossoms one is finally faced with the question - who do I read next? The weak or the playful may gambol among the Tintins, Asterixs and Roald for a few extra days but the serious business of reading must at some point resume.

I discovered Amsterdam before the Booker discovered Ian McEwan - and then I discovered On Chisel Beach, Saturday and so many more. I discovered JM Coetzee [no Disgrace] and Hilary Mantel blessed with a singular beauty all their own - the lingual commonwealth rubbing spines on the same shelf. I met The English Patient and there was also the slightly disturbed encounter with Vernon God Little - It took me a while to get past The life of Pi but then pobody's nerfect. And lately, I stroked The White Tiger on a long flight home till I purred and smiled. Ultimately, a good read is caliberated finely between Bihar and Bangalore.

So, essentially, life now seems replete - there are the winners, and the nominees, the sunshine [getting warmer, I daresay] and the couch that gets more comfortable as it sinks, spreads and frays. There is definitely an easy way to choose a good book, and I'm taking it. Unfortunately, The Brief Wonderous Life of Oscar Wao didn't quite fit in but look at the bright side... once we are done with the Bookers we could start with the Pulitzers.