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tanvangit's review against another edition
4.0
This book is cynicism at its best as the author takes you through a joyride of familiar expressions, targeting all the right corners of your memory palace if you have ever traveled across the vast number of small cities in India. Very enjoyable if you can take a bit of deserved self-deprecation - deep down, you know that the cynicism is justified.
mauryneiberg18's review against another edition
4.0
This is a collection of travel essays and is clearly dated now, but was a terrific introduction to the ins and outs of small(er) towns in India.
nk92hp's review against another edition
3.0
I enjoyed the glimpses of small town India along with the commentary on rising tourism in these areas. It gave more depth to my experience while travelling in India at the same time. However, I did find the author's arrogance or snobbish attitude throughout quite annoying. But it was somewhat made-up by the afterword (added in after his success with the book) where he criticizes this very aspect of his writing.
lakshya's review against another edition
adventurous
challenging
dark
emotional
funny
hopeful
inspiring
reflective
sad
fast-paced
5.0
yogideetz's review
funny
informative
lighthearted
reflective
medium-paced
4.5
I really enjoyed this travel journal. At least, at the time this novel was written, we can visualize traveling in a country where so many things are not available and you have to make room in your schedule for any inconvenience.
This journal also highlights some internal struggles we find in India, not just in the caste system or in religion, but how Indians see Indians, and when working in the trade of tourism or travel, how Indian are treated versus foreigners traveling in India. It's not always bad and it's not always good.
Overall, this isn't a book to take too seriously. Filled with observations and light commentary, it's something to read to get a sense of the vast differences there are in India and to simply glimpse how Indians might see themselves.
This journal also highlights some internal struggles we find in India, not just in the caste system or in religion, but how Indians see Indians, and when working in the trade of tourism or travel, how Indian are treated versus foreigners traveling in India. It's not always bad and it's not always good.
Overall, this isn't a book to take too seriously. Filled with observations and light commentary, it's something to read to get a sense of the vast differences there are in India and to simply glimpse how Indians might see themselves.
ameya88's review against another edition
3.0
I read this book a few years ago and when I was reading this article where William Dalrymple & Ramchandra Guha were trading barbs around a decade even further past. And Dalrymple mentioned Pankaj Mishra as one of the Indian authors whom he was mighty impressed by or something. So I searched for his works and was wondering which one to start off with, especially wary of picking up something too high brow with the fear of not being able to plough through it at all. So despite this being 20 years old, I chose Butter Chicken in Ludhiana, because hey – travel writing is always interesting.
One of the best parts of the book for me was the Afterward. In this Mishra says, and I’m quoting verbatim
“But I always felt slightly embarrassed by the book. For, as I continued to write, I began to find my own voice, and to see the need for intellectual and existential self-reckoning in much of what I wrote. Butter Chicken reminded me too much of my younger, callow, unresolved self, which had assumed positions of intellectual and moral authority without quite earning the always provisional right to them “
That one lines sums up my feelings around this work. Mishra is evidently a child prodigy of sorts, to be able to write a work like this at the age of 25. I say this not just because a 25 year couldn’t have made the observations he has made but for even aspiring to take a project like this on. He also reads all the high brow authors of the world right from Iris Murdoch (I had to Google), Kant and Thomas Mann (just about heard the names). He has a solid knowledge and background of Indian history beyond what even an Indian interested in history is likely to have. The point is he is an outlier in Indian society – certainly not a representative of the mofussil masses but not even one from the self-appointed classes. And what that leads to is an annoying tone of superiority and a moral high ground that would seem snobbish even coming from an outsider – a foreigner – but feels downright judgmental when it comes from someone who by his own accounts has grown up in this country and for whom none of this could have been a complete shock. There is a pervading sense of us versus them, more like me versus them to be honest. which I found as grating time and again. Take out some of the vernacular conversations, orientations of geography and cultural nous – this could very easily be mistaken to be written by a celebrated foreigner. The sneering condescension and the veneer of moral superiority make a heady cocktail for the enlightened elite but causes the rest of the party to roll their eyeballs.
This is not to discount the observations or the writing at all. The basis for the high praise from Dalrymple even at that young age is evident, there is a narrative flow which is exceptionally smooth when you consider that the author interjects himself in and out of situations without it ever jarring. A lot of nuggets and observations are just that – there isn’t always a backed up reasoning behind them. I’m on the fence about whether a writer should do that, on one hand I feel it gives more power to the reader to draw his or her own conclusions, but there is always the chance of it leading to misguided and incorrect conclusions.
For a book which is 22 years old, it’s also one which has aged remarkably well. Some of the observations are remarkably prescient. The chapters on Bangalore (sans the IT boom this), entrance exam preparation, the kitsch and loudness of the big fat Indian wedding, communal beliefs suppressed underneath a veneer of sincerity – this could be 2018. And yes, while a lot has changed over the last 2 decades – the fruits of liberalisation hopefully trickling down further into the hinterlands, the cellular phone revolution, cultural ambitiousness – to a large extent outside the yuppie hot-pockets of Mumbai’s, Delhi’s, Bangalore’s and Pune’s I suspect one will find a lot of le plus ca change le plus c’est la meme chose.
One of the best parts of the book for me was the Afterward. In this Mishra says, and I’m quoting verbatim
“But I always felt slightly embarrassed by the book. For, as I continued to write, I began to find my own voice, and to see the need for intellectual and existential self-reckoning in much of what I wrote. Butter Chicken reminded me too much of my younger, callow, unresolved self, which had assumed positions of intellectual and moral authority without quite earning the always provisional right to them “
That one lines sums up my feelings around this work. Mishra is evidently a child prodigy of sorts, to be able to write a work like this at the age of 25. I say this not just because a 25 year couldn’t have made the observations he has made but for even aspiring to take a project like this on. He also reads all the high brow authors of the world right from Iris Murdoch (I had to Google), Kant and Thomas Mann (just about heard the names). He has a solid knowledge and background of Indian history beyond what even an Indian interested in history is likely to have. The point is he is an outlier in Indian society – certainly not a representative of the mofussil masses but not even one from the self-appointed classes. And what that leads to is an annoying tone of superiority and a moral high ground that would seem snobbish even coming from an outsider – a foreigner – but feels downright judgmental when it comes from someone who by his own accounts has grown up in this country and for whom none of this could have been a complete shock. There is a pervading sense of us versus them, more like me versus them to be honest. which I found as grating time and again. Take out some of the vernacular conversations, orientations of geography and cultural nous – this could very easily be mistaken to be written by a celebrated foreigner. The sneering condescension and the veneer of moral superiority make a heady cocktail for the enlightened elite but causes the rest of the party to roll their eyeballs.
This is not to discount the observations or the writing at all. The basis for the high praise from Dalrymple even at that young age is evident, there is a narrative flow which is exceptionally smooth when you consider that the author interjects himself in and out of situations without it ever jarring. A lot of nuggets and observations are just that – there isn’t always a backed up reasoning behind them. I’m on the fence about whether a writer should do that, on one hand I feel it gives more power to the reader to draw his or her own conclusions, but there is always the chance of it leading to misguided and incorrect conclusions.
For a book which is 22 years old, it’s also one which has aged remarkably well. Some of the observations are remarkably prescient. The chapters on Bangalore (sans the IT boom this), entrance exam preparation, the kitsch and loudness of the big fat Indian wedding, communal beliefs suppressed underneath a veneer of sincerity – this could be 2018. And yes, while a lot has changed over the last 2 decades – the fruits of liberalisation hopefully trickling down further into the hinterlands, the cellular phone revolution, cultural ambitiousness – to a large extent outside the yuppie hot-pockets of Mumbai’s, Delhi’s, Bangalore’s and Pune’s I suspect one will find a lot of le plus ca change le plus c’est la meme chose.
aabha's review
4.0
This is a surprisingly insightful look into 90's India given how young the author was when he wrote it. It's amusing to see the deference he is met with when he says the magic words "I am from Delhi" or the contempt when he says the not so magical words" I am a student." The book is full of little observations and anecdotes though he is naive at times(duh Indians are very caste conscious).
I would recommend this book for the hilarious camay incident alone! Fortunately there's lots more like the Marwari yuppie(roll eyes) and bundis judge sahib and his appropriation of all the city's guest houses(that still happens btw).
So if you have relatives or friends from small towns this kind of reveals the mystery of why they do do those things they do. Go ahead laugh at them, you are not alone.
I would recommend this book for the hilarious camay incident alone! Fortunately there's lots more like the Marwari yuppie(roll eyes) and bundis judge sahib and his appropriation of all the city's guest houses(that still happens btw).
So if you have relatives or friends from small towns this kind of reveals the mystery of why they do do those things they do. Go ahead laugh at them, you are not alone.
asuph's review
3.0
I picked this one up with high expectations, for some reason, which seemed justified at the beginning, but as the book wore on, it became bit of a letdown. It sure has its moments. The narration is engaging, and perceptive. There is wit too. But at the end, one feels it's all disconnected. There is no grand narrative (a la Naipaul, say). And maybe that's a good thing. But given the breadth of his travels for the specific purpose of writing this, one feels it could have delivered more -- especially given that Mishra is so capable of doing that.
But still a nice, easy read. 3.5/5.
But still a nice, easy read. 3.5/5.
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