I
just hate it when time plays spoilsport.
So
now, instead of the long rant that I had planned to unleash upon the
unsuspecting audience (which I still will, but only in a few days) I am having
to console myself by merely giving a rating to this book that I finished
reading yesterday.
However,
the out-of-the-box thinking chap that the author is, it would be most unfair if
I rated his book using anything but an out-of-the-box rating scale wherein I
refrain from comparing his book, to books written by other authors who are,
well, not-Rushdie and by that definition simply NOT presentable on the same
rating scale that Rushdie's books can be rated using.
As
a consequence, I have no choice but to present my verdict in the following
manner:
On
a scale of Grimus to Shalimar the Clown, Grimus being the lowest rating
assignable followed- in that order- by Haroun
and the Sea of Stories, The
Enchantress of Florence, Fury, The Moor's Last Sigh, Midnight's Children, Shame and then Shalimar the Clown; with Shalimar
of course being the highest rating possible, Two Years Eight Months & Twenty-Eight Nights, in my humble
opinion, falls somewhere between Grimus
and the Enchantress.
How
I wish the author understood the importance of remaining tethered to a
discernible plot-line!
I
wouldn't say this is a bad novel (because it isn't), but it most-certainly is
one of his weakest stories yet.
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