Today sees the publication of Anuradha Roy’s first and widely acclaimed novel An Atlas of Impossible Longing in the United States. It is being published by the Free Press, an imprint of Simon and Schuster, three years after its U.K. release. It will also this week be published in France, by Actes Sud, and has been highlighted by Livres Hebdo, the French equivalent of Publishers Weekly, as one of their three books of the month.
Meanwhile, The Folded Earth is continuing to gather great reviews in India, where it remains a Top 10 Fiction Bestseller. It has most recently been reviewed in First City, a monthly magazine:
‘There are novels that spill beyond merely the sum of their parts: stories, characters, narrative strategies. The Folded Earth is one such novel. Its evocative title so wonderfully suggestive of the way its story seems to have emerged from the atmosphere of a place – the core of its emotion not merely in characters or situations, but derived from the pervasive moods of nature. Written in a tenor that touches fleshy finitude as well as sparse notes, and overheard more than read amidst its pages, The Folded Earth is a book you will hold close to your chest long after the last page is turned.”
And also in The Indian Express:
‘Apart from capturing the sights, sounds and character of a hill station she [Roy] also uses the eccentricities of the locals to fashion a tale of great beauty and depth…. The tale delights as much for the allure of the writing as for its very hill-like twists and turns. Roy’s literary boundaries extend further as she brings in some hard social and political reality into a narrative that would otherwise have been somewhat rose-tinted and localised. Above all, she [Roy] brings alive the sense of community which is so vital to small, thinly populated and intimate hill stations like Ranikhet.’ Dilip Bobb
My father was a field geologist and in my childhood, he was away half the year in remote places. The months he was home in Calcutta, rules and routine were jettisoned. There were cream rolls for dinner, concerts, and tram rides with no fixed destinations. And soon Abol Tabol, Sukumar Ray’s book of nonsense verse, was dug out and dusted off. We knew the poems backward, but our anticipation of Baba’s characteristic intonations made us giggle even before he started reading. That is my earliest, happiest memory of a book. Read more.