Have any of you ever felt that miserable feeling when you've just finished a book? Especially a book that was so engrossing and so nearly surreal that at some point you begin to wonder if it was real ( no matter what it says on the cover!). I've just come to the end of Travels with a Tangerine.
And I'm miserable! It was such a beautiful account of the author's travels in the footsteps of Ibn Battutah. In an earlier post I'd written about another of his books that I'd read- an account of his travels through India in the footsteps of Battutah- The Hall of a Thousand Columns. The author has portrayed so beautifully and 'surreally' two of the countries that have meant much in my life- Oman and India. And yes, I want to gush endlessly about it. He has managed to capture so beautifully that something quite not captured about Oman in a way that I never could. Although I do disagree strongly with him on his perceptions of Khor Rawri ( which has to be my most favorite spot anywhere on earth) , I couldn't be happier with the rest.
There seems to be a wonderful linguistic alchemy to the author's words that just transports and transforms and you're constantly surprised to find yourself in your everyday surroundings (which will always seem so dull when you do emerge I promise!). And the words he uses- they are mesmerizing and unusual.
After the sensory assault (almost) that the book was for almost two months ( I tried to read it as slowly as possible), I feel I've been left high and dry.
Once I've re-adjusted though I have a whole pile waiting to claim me. I think I'm going to finally open up the Amitav Ghosh that has been eying me ( and that I've been eying back) these past couple of weeks.
And I'm miserable! It was such a beautiful account of the author's travels in the footsteps of Ibn Battutah. In an earlier post I'd written about another of his books that I'd read- an account of his travels through India in the footsteps of Battutah- The Hall of a Thousand Columns. The author has portrayed so beautifully and 'surreally' two of the countries that have meant much in my life- Oman and India. And yes, I want to gush endlessly about it. He has managed to capture so beautifully that something quite not captured about Oman in a way that I never could. Although I do disagree strongly with him on his perceptions of Khor Rawri ( which has to be my most favorite spot anywhere on earth) , I couldn't be happier with the rest.
There seems to be a wonderful linguistic alchemy to the author's words that just transports and transforms and you're constantly surprised to find yourself in your everyday surroundings (which will always seem so dull when you do emerge I promise!). And the words he uses- they are mesmerizing and unusual.
After the sensory assault (almost) that the book was for almost two months ( I tried to read it as slowly as possible), I feel I've been left high and dry.
Once I've re-adjusted though I have a whole pile waiting to claim me. I think I'm going to finally open up the Amitav Ghosh that has been eying me ( and that I've been eying back) these past couple of weeks.
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