My letter initiated this project where I wish to get back into reading how I used to.
This serves as an update and a small review of an Indian detective novel, Nobody Lights a Candle, whose English translation was published this year.
It has already been two years since my last post. How time flies. Two very different and packed years. I was working the first and finished my undergrad the second. This last year of my bachelors was non-stop at the library. All I did this academic year was read, read, read, write and read again. If I look at my Zotero (the place that regroups all the journal articles I use) it consists of 400+ readings. I loved my year and I am incredibly proud of the work I put in but there was no time for respite. Even if there was, it was spent guilty about not doing anything so reading for pleasure was not an option nor a want.
It is only now that I get to sit down. I am now in the summer between my undergrad and my postgrad. Having nothing to do, no deadlines to hit and nothing to think about is both jarring and relieving. With this newfound consistency and work ethic, reading has become less of a chore and more of an enjoyment. Learning 2 read again happened most unexpectedly.
To start off this long-awaited summer, I collected a couple of books on my trip to Chennai. The first novel I completed for pleasure in a year is Nobody Lights a Candle.
I picked up these books intending to understand more about my motherland. This one attracted me not only because it's a detective story (my current favourite genre) but also because it premised: 'A searing read that reminds us all that it is caste which often decides where our sympathies lie. I have never read a description of a postmortem as brutal and honest as the one described here.’—Jerry Pinto
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