Shantaram

When I went on my pre-trip book buying spree at Daunt Books in Marylebone, I kinda went for things I’d vaguely heard of but had no real idea what they might be about. I got One Day and The Corrections and my third choice was Shantaram by Gregory David Roberts.

In the days leading up to my departure at least two people whose opinions I respect mightily when it comes to books asked me if I’d read it, and said I must do so.

As it was the thickest of the books I brought with me, and of course it’s set in India, I figured I’d read that first. That way even if it wasn’t as good as people said, I’d be lowering the weight in my carry-on bag and at least I’d get some tips on India.

Well, I started reading it last Thursday night and finished it yesterday (Thursday) morning. What a cracker! I’m sure being here and having gone to one of the places he writes about quite frequently (Leopold’s in Mumbai) made it more real for me, but his insights into the Indian mindset and his descriptions of the people really hit home to me.

I don’t know how much I would’ve loved it had I not been in India when I read it, but I’m willing to bet it would still make a huge impression. It’s billed as a novel but from what I can work out, there’s a helluva lot of autobiography in there too - he wrote the book in an Australian Prison, so that much at least must be real life - and it struck me that it’s the perfect way to write about times in your life when you weren’t perhaps the most law-abiding of citizens. Put it all in there, change a few names and call it fiction! Perfect.