When a work happens to be a Man Booker Prize winner for a debutant author, when it is praised to the skies by every reviewer, one is intrigued to discover for oneself what all the hoopla is about.
Roy does not disappoint. Deviating from the conventional norms of writing, Roy takes a non-linear and sensory approach to telling a multifaceted story.
A seemingly innocuous plot of a childhood prank gone wrong, holds in its core an epic tale of tragedy. Roy packs in a lot: communism, untouchability, class wars, illicit love, child sexual abuse, police corruption and villainous machinations that the largely Syrian Christian characters of this story set in rural Kerala are prone to. (Incidentally, these issues provide a prelude to the nature of Roy's real-life activism that she adopted later).
Except perhaps Velutha - the titular 'god' who sacrifices himself in the end - there is not one entirely likeable character in the book; all others, including the children, are various shades of gray. But the darkest hue of gray is probably Baby Kochamma who cleverly manipulates the proceedings and the people around her to suit her own designs, and to move the story towards its gory, tragic end.
If you are able to let yourself adrift, and allow the story to carry you in its stream - like the river which plays a central role in the proceedings - then you are bound to admire the narrative, and wax eloquent in the end about the dazzlingly innovative way of storytelling.
Regardless of the rather unfortunate political leanings of the author, we need to give credit where it is due. The fact that Roy beat one Australian and four British nominees to win the 1997 Booker fills one with pride that such a work as this should have emerged from the pen of an Indian author.
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