Never judge a book by its cover - really! Just read Perfect Eight by Reema Moudgil. Never met her, only communicated online (intermittently at that) for years. The depressing cover filled me with dread. The back cover blurb was as intimidating, promising all the rot that pretentious, dead serious Indian English writers witter on about. You know, the usual lofty shit.
I promised myself I'd read the first chapter and junk it if it sucked - but the story sucked me in. Found it difficult it put it down. Almost gave up an evening filled with Long Island Iced Tea. Almost.
It's about a relationship - with great sexual tension. Chick lit in real life without the Jimmy Choos and evil bosses and shit. The low life scum was there. The imperfect girl. The longing. The unfinished business. All in flesh and blood. Modern and contemporary as well. And, ahem, not in Chetan Bhagat English!
Am hugely relieved to discover one dead serious Indian English writer who is not just readable but enjoyable as well! Hail to thee, Reema Moudgil! May your tribe increase!