Book Review 1: Shantaram

I've set myself a challenge this year to read twelve books. Actually, I set myself lots of challenges. I set them regularly and in full knowledge of the fact that there is a high probability that I won't complete the challenge. So far this year I have completed three books. Not many, but the first one was the hefty page-turner Shantaram by Gregory David Roberts.

This novel stands out as only one of two that led to some sort of visceral change in me. The other book being Leo Tolstoy's Anna Karenina.

Although written in the style of an autobiography there is no real truth in the story but in that I found it's biggest appeal. Roberts wrote the story so compellingly that I still can't believe that it isn't true. Some of his sentences will live with me forever, not so much because I can quote them but for the exact opposite reason. I can't recall a single one and never tried to memorise them but the feelings they invoked in me at the time were so real. 

The story of Shantaram is one I will carry in my heart forever and perhaps I'll read it again one day just like I hope to read Anna Karenina again too. But at the same time, there's a small part of me that worries that by reading them again I'll lose the beautiful flawed humans that I loved in each of the characters. Or perhaps not. After all, Tolstoy and Roberts are more accomplished writers than I am a reader.


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