There are books which are children’s books, but which adults enjoy too. And there are some which, after reading, you feel like it’s a book that is meant for adults, but children would love it too. The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett is one such. And this book, The Elephants’ Child by M L Eaton, is one that perhaps might be a bit of both categories.
Happiness is a cup of coffee and a good book, so I’ve heard, and agreed. But I’m a foodie. I love trying new food, as long as they don’t aggravate my allergies, and the caveat being that I can’t cook very well. A book about food and recipes, that also tells a story, that’s something I’ve loved to read. This book is something that fell plush into that genre.
Mythology – one of my favorite genres, and of late, one that seems to be popular in Indian Writing in English, with various retellings and mythology-based fantasies that are coming up in that field. And an author who I have read before, and know has a talent for storytelling in this particular genre. It was a book I wanted to read knowing there was a very good chance I’d love it, and it lived up to that expectation for me.
Quite a few articles in the newspaper these days focuses on crimes against women, and it has been more in focus since the last few years, I think. Yet, on the other hand, there remains some silence too. I don’t know what it was that prompted me to take this book for reading; maybe it was the blurb that said “A daughter and a mother. This is the story of a life. You choose to live or die.”
Sometimes I’m surprised by how different a story is from the first impression that the cover gives. And surprised in a pleasant way. This book, which gave an impression of a sci-fi novel but turned out to be anything but, is one such.