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Anthony Horowitz's Alex Rider, is my kids alter ego. He is a big fan and I hear daily Alex Rider stories ar home. That said, he has no clue that dad has a signed copy of Anthony Horowitz's signed copy, it would matter little to him, even if he knew- perhaps he would be happy if Alex Rider had somehow signed it.

That said, I haven't read anybook, but I have heard a lot, and if you are a Gen A or B you may perhaps like it. (Kids bookshelf featured)

I am interrupting my cricket books for a book I recently completed reading. Since this is a recent release and a wonderful read, its showcase should not be delayed.

I love books about food, but not the recipe kind. Give me the history, science, culture and stories behind food and I am happy."Sea, Salt and Spice" by Meher Mirza is that kind of book. It is the history of Mumbai told through food, recipes, restaurants, food shortages and trade.The book takes us through Mumbai's history from the early medieval period to modern times, with the British period getting a particularly fascinating amount of attention. And, as you can imagine, quite a lot happened around food during those years.What I particularly enjoyed was seeing how food connects with the growth and changing character of the city. Trade, migration, scarcity, restaurants and changing tastes all become part of Mumbai's story.

If you have lived in Mumbai or are currently a resident, this is a book you probably shouldn't miss. There is something particularly enjoyable about reading about a city through what its people eat or ate.The book itself is beautifully produced, with plenty of colour plates and photographs that make the whole experience even better.I learnt a lot, and the quizzer in me is already tempted to put together a small trivia quiz based entirely on this book. That is probably the highest compliment I can give a book.Overall, I thoroughly enjoyed it. A big shout out to Kitab Khana for the signed copy and for giving me a rather delicious history lesson on Mumbai ka khana!

If you, like me, were an Indian cricket fan around the turn of the millennium, you probably remember the India Australia rivalry with a certain amount of emotion and nostalgia.Steve Waugh and later Ricky Ponting seemed to arrive at every series with some new strategy, new idea or new way of making Indian fans nervous. While all the noise was happening on the field, there was a quieter force behind the Australian machine that I secretly admired and, if I am being honest, was slightly jealous of;John Buchanan.

So when I came across a signed copy of "If Better Is Possible", his autobiography, a few years ago, the fan in me could not resist. Definitely one of @bookhub_01's better offerings!The book isn't a conventional autobiography told chronologically from childhood to retirement. Instead, Buchanan uses his cricket experience to explore leadership, strategy and building successful teams.He asks questions such as how a team creates a winning culture, how a coach manages exceptional personalities and, perhaps most importantly, how success can be sustained once a team reaches the top.I couldn't think of a better person to tackle those questions. I watched that Australian team flourish, and Buchanan was one of the people quietly making it happen from the background.

The book is all about strategies, leadership ideas, success mantras, anecdotes and the occasional quotable quip. There is plenty here about team culture, preparation, psychology and getting the best out of people.Now, this isn't normally my favourite reading territory. In fact, I generally loathe self help books. Give me history, anecdotes and facts and I am happy. Start telling me how I should improve myself and I start looking for the exit;But this was John Buchanan.

The same man who was sitting in the opposition dressing room while I was watching Australia dismantle teams and wondering how they kept doing it.So despite the book being very much in the strategy and leadership genre, I genuinely enjoyed it. Perhaps admiration makes even a genre you dislike considerably more readable.Overall, a fascinating look into the thinking behind one of the most successful cricket teams of that era. I may not have liked Australia winning all those years ago, but reading about how they did it was another matter entirely.

After spending the last couple of books with cricket administrators, we finally get back to the players. And today's book was a delight."Wizards: The Story of Indian Spin Bowling" by Anindya Dutta had two things going for it even before I opened it. It was signed, and it was about something I genuinely love: cricket history and spin bowling.

During my gully cricket days, I was the spinner. And naturally, I tried to bowl like the player I admired most, Anil Kumble. So seeing Kumble on the cover brought back quite a few memories.The book traces the evolution of Indian spin bowling, beginning with Palwankar Baloo in the early twentieth century and moving through Vinoo Mankad, Subhash Gupte, the famous Spin Quartet of the 1970s, Anil Kumble and Harbhajan Singh, all the way to Ashwin, Kuldeep Yadav, Chahal and Washington Sundar.

I have read quite a bit about Palwankar Baloo before, but I particularly enjoyed the way his story is presented here. His journey itself is remarkable, and his place in the history of Indian cricket deserves far more attention.The Spin Quartet naturally gets plenty of space too, and there are loads of anecdotes and stories about players whose names may be familiar but whose careers we don't always know much about.

And then there is Kumble.

I was particularly happy that he gets a significant place in the book because he represented such a different model of Indian spin bowling. Unlike the traditional slow, looping spinner, Kumble bowled with considerably more pace and a much more direct trajectory. His weapons were accuracy, bounce, topspin and the ability to keep coming at the batsman until something eventually gave way.

The book is full of anecdotes, characters and fascinating stories, and I loved how it connects the evolution of Indian cricket with the evolution of its spin bowling.Overall, a thoroughly enjoyable read.

From football we jump to cricket, and to a book that probably finished off whatever dwindling interest I still had in the game.These days, I mostly follow cricket's history, largely for nostalgic reasons. The present day game doesn't quite hold the same attraction for me anymore."A Cop in Cricket" by Neeraj Kumar is probably one of the reasons why.

Kumar is a former Delhi Police Commissioner who served as the head of the BCCI Anti Corruption Unit from 2015 to 2018. That gives him a rather unusual vantage point from which to tell the story, because this isn't someone commenting on corruption from the outside. He was actually involved in investigating it.And the first thing I learnt was that the betting scandals we hear about are probably only the tip of the iceberg.

The book opens up a much uglier world behind the glamorous version of Indian cricket. There is financial misappropriation within state cricket associations, including allegations around money meant for grassroots development. There is nepotism and manipulation in selections, something Indian cricket fans hardly need much introduction to. Then there are fake academies, dubious coaches and so called talent scouts extracting money from young players and their families with promises of IPL contracts, Ranji places and overseas opportunities.And it gets worse.The book also talks about illegal betting networks operating through sham T20 tournaments, sexual exploitation and abuse of aspiring players, particularly at the district level, and the institutional indifference that allows many of these things to continue.

The account of the ACU investigation into the Mahendragarh District Cricket Association in Haryana in 2017 was probably the story that stayed with me the most. It gives you a glimpse of how deep the problems can go once you move away from the television cameras and international stadiums.

What I liked about the book is that Kumar doesn't spend hundreds of pages labouring over the point. The writing is direct, the chapters move quickly and the book itself is quite thin.In fact, much like a T20 match, it was over before I had enough time to properly digest my disgust.

And perhaps that was the problem.I finished the book feeling considerably less interested in following present day cricket than when I started it. The game that I once watched, followed and argued about had somehow become far less interesting once I saw what was happening behind the scenes.

So I suppose I owe Neeraj Kumar a small thank you.He didn't exactly make me stop loving cricket. He merely convinced me that the history of cricket is probably safer territory.Overall, a fast, disturbing and eye opening read. Recommended if you want to know what happens when you look behind the scoreboard. A big shoutout to bookhub_01 for the preloved signed copy.

Day before yesterday, I shared a book about a champion darts player. Today we jump back into sport again, this time to football, another sport I have spent far more time reading about than actually watching."Midfield Maestro: Victor Amalraj, A Memoir" by Abhijit Sen Gupta was an easy choice for my signed book collection. Sen Gupta, formerly the Deputy Editor of 'The Hindu', well known for his wonderful sports writing, especially his stories about lesser known sports, players and the fascinating anecdotes that often get lost behind the big names.

It also happens that he is the brother of another author I know well and have previously featured in this signed book series. So naturally, I managed to get myself a signed copy.

The book uses the life and career of Victor Amalraj to tell a much larger story about the contribution of Hyderabad and Secunderabad to Indian football.And right from the start, I was transported into a sporting world about which I knew absolutely nothing.I learnt about clubs, associations, players and the football ecosystem of Hyderabad, along with the many football captains it produced for India. The book also gives a fascinating glimpse into Indian football from the 1940s through the 1980s.And interestingly, it did not seem all that different from Indian football today. Some things apparently have very long careers.

What I particularly enjoyed was the bird's eye view of a football culture that I had never really encountered before. There were plenty of names and stories I had never heard of, and the sort of thing I enjoy in sports writing.If you are a football fan, I would strongly recommend this book. Even for someone like me, who is more likely to read a football book than watch a full ninety minutes, it was a thoroughly enjoyable journey.

I got this signed copy of "Old Stoneface" by John Lowe only because it was signed.My actual experience with darts? About one year of playing during my early 20s. And that's about it. I hadn't heard of John Lowe (shame on me) or, for that matter, most of the champions mentioned in the book.The book then sat comfortably in my TBR pile for a couple of years until one fine day, during one of my routine doomscrolling sessions on YouTube, I stumbled across a video titled "John Lowe 9 Dart Finish FIRST EVER ON TV."Now that was something.I watched the video, remembered the signed book sitting on my shelf, and for once, doomscrolling actually led to reading.

The book itself is a fairly straightforward autobiography of a champion. Childhood, discovering darts, entering competitions, rising through the rankings, major titles, rivalries with people I had never heard of, politics within the sport, marriage, family, retirement, and finally a look back at his life and career.For someone with practically zero knowledge of professional darts, every chapter was a learning experience. I discovered names, rivalries, tournaments, controversies, and an entire sporting world that had somehow passed me by.

Did it inspire me to restart my abandoned darts career?Absolutely not.

But it did make me appreciate just how difficult professional darts actually is. And that famous nine dart finish. If you've ever played darts, you'll probably appreciate just how ridiculously difficult it is to pull off.Overall, a fairly conventional sports autobiography, but an enjoyable one for someone who normally reads very little about sport outside cricket and chess.I may not be returning to the game anytime soon, but at least I now know who John Lowe is.

Well, this is one of those books that I bought from @bookhub_01 for one reason only it was signed.Whether I'd actually enjoy it was a question.That question, unfortunately, was answered rather quickly.

"Sally Green's The Smoke Thieves" turned out to be a young adult fantasy, a genre that I've slowly realised isn't my cup of tea. I gave it a fair chance, read the first twentyfive odd pages, and accepted that this adventure was probably meant for someone else.So, for once, I waved the white flag.

The good news is that the book already has its next reader lined up. My older kid has claimed it the moment he finishes "The Lord of the Rings" trilogy; which, judging by the pace, may take another geological era. But eventually, 'The Smoke Thieves' will get its second chance.Who knows? Perhaps he'll enjoy it far more than I did.

Since I didn't get very far, I don't think it's fair for me to judge the story itself. Sometimes books fail because they're poorly written; sometimes they fail simply because the reader and the genre never quite meet halfway.This was definitely the latter.Overall, one more signed book on my shelf, one unfinished book on my reading list, and hopefully one happy future reader in the house. Not every book has to be for every reader and that's perfectly alright.

I haven't posted here for more than a week. Home renovations have turned my bookshelves into sealed archaeological sites, and accessing my books has become a bit of an expedition. So my regular reviews may slow down for a while!But I did manage to get hold of today's book.

The criteria for reading "Fractured Communities" is actually quite simple: if you have heard of Umar Khalid, this is a book worth reading, whether you like him or dislike him. If you haven't heard of him, well... you can continue living happily in La La Land.

"Fractured Communities: Adivasi Histories and the Politics of Power" is based on Umar Khalid's PhD research and reconstructs the political history of the Ho people of Singhbhum, in present day Jharkhand.And this is where I confess I came into the book with no knowledge of the subject.The book traces how colonial rule, local zamindars and rulers, forest policies, and changing forms of state power reshaped Adivasi society over time. It takes us from the pre British period through colonial rule and into the modern era, showing how political power and administrative systems gradually transformed the lives of the Ho people.

What surprised me most was how readable it was.The language is crisp, straightforward, and free of unnecessary academic gymnastics. I started reading it on my flight to Mumbai and finished it on the return journey. Two flights and I had gone from knowing nothing about the Ho to having learnt an enormous amount.Every few pages brought something new.

I also liked the fact that Khalid largely lets the facts do the talking. There is little preaching, condemnation, or telling the reader what conclusion they should reach. He presents the history, the changes, the conflicts, and the different players and allows you to make up your own mind.When I first saw the title, I assumed this might be a broad history of India's Adivasi communities. It isn't. It is specifically about the Ho people, and that focus is actually one of its strengths.

And I have to admit, while reading it, I kept wondering how someone capable of producing such careful academic work ended up spending years unable to pursue that work freely. Whatever one's opinion of Umar Khalid as a public figure, the loss of academic time and work is a loss to scholarship itself.

Overall, a fascinating piece of history. I went in knowing almost nothing about the Ho and came out feeling that I had been given a crash course in a part of India's history that rarely makes it into mainstream narratives.Now, if only my bookshelves survive the renovation, perhaps I'll be able to get back to regular posting.

I had absolutely no idea who L.S. Hilton was, nor had I heard of 'Domina'. I bought it for one simple reason, it was signed.Only after I had started reading did I discover that it was the second book in a trilogy. And unlike a few series I've stumbled into halfway, this one really does expect you to know what happened before.Oops.

Nevertheless, the subject matter kept me interested enough to carry on.Judith has reinvented herself as Elisabeth, living a luxurious new life in Venice, running an art gallery and enjoying the kind of lifestyle she once only dreamt about. Naturally, peaceful lives in thrillers don't stay peaceful for very long. Before long, the past catches up with her, bringing blackmail, dangerous wealthy acquaintances, hidden identities, and plenty of intrigue from the world of high end art.Art galleries, expensive paintings, international intrigue... it was an entertaining combination.

Unfortunately, I could also feel that I was missing quite a bit of the emotional baggage carried over from the first book. Characters clearly had histories with one another that I was expected to know, and every now and then I found myself thinking, "I suspect this would make a lot more sense if I'd started at Book One."

The novel is fast paced, and has more than enough glamour and sleaze to keep the pages turning.Overall, I enjoyed it despite entering the story through the wrong door. I'll probably go back and read the first book someday... and yes, I'd quite like to see how the trilogy ends with the third as well.Perhaps next time I'll even read them in the correct order. What a novel idea.

Prior to reading this book I had never even heard of James Steele. Now that I've finished it, I'm amazed by how much I learnt and slightly aghast at my own ignorance."One Man, One Medicine, One Health: The James H. Steele Story" is the biography of a veterinarian whose stubborn curiosity about diseases in animals helped build global systems for protecting both animals and humans from zoonotic diseases.The story begins with Steele's childhood in Chicago before following his veterinary training at Michigan State, his Master of Public Health at Harvard, and his wartime and postwar work on zoonotic diseases. From there, the book travels through decades of investigations, policy battles, and institution building.

Rabies, bovine tuberculosis, brucellosis, equine encephalitis, foot and mouth disease, salmonellosis,you name it, James Steele seemed to have a hand in tackling it. Along the way he also helped establish veterinary public health as a recognised discipline, earning the title "the father of veterinary public health."At 470 odd pages, this is not a light read. But, if you're going to chronicle the life of someone who spent decades chasing diseases across continents, there is bound to be a lot to write about.I particularly enjoyed reading about the rabies programmes, the tuberculosis and brucellosis campaigns, and the early efforts to build surveillance and vaccination systems. It is fascinating to realise how much of modern public health quietly rests on the work of people most of us have never even heard of.

As someone with a interest in biology and zoonotic diseases, I thoroughly enjoyed it. I kept coming across facts that made me pause and think, "Why did nobody ever teach me this?"That said, I should also admit this is a fairly specialised book. If biology, epidemiology, veterinary science, or zoonoses don't particularly excite you, this may feel like a very long journey.For me, however, it was exactly the opposite. It was one long learning experience, and by the final page I felt I had discovered an unsung hero whose work has probably saved millions of lives; human and animal alike.

' The Gallery' by Manju Kapur turned out to be one of those books that left me rather divided.On one hand, I genuinely liked its strong women characters. On the other, I felt the story itself followed a fairly familiar and predictable path. I kept hoping it would surprise me,but it rarely did.The novel follows Minal, a wealthy Delhi housewife who opens an art gallery and gradually begins to build an identity beyond being a wife and mother. Running alongside her story is that of Maitreyi, her domestic worker, whose ambition is to give her daughter, Tashi, opportunities she herself never had.

Over the next three decades, the lives of their daughters, Ellora and Tashi, intersect repeatedly through the gallery. The class divide between the families never really disappears, but the women on both sides find themselves searching for many of the same things, independence, dignity, and the freedom to shape their own lives.

That was easily the strongest part of the novel for me.

The women feel believable, and their struggles are grounded in everyday life rather than melodrama.

The book is an easy read, but I caught myself skimming quite a few pages because many of the developments felt predictable. Every now and then I hoped the story would take an unexpected turn, but it generally stayed on the path I had already imagined.Which isn't necessarily a bad thing, it just meant there were very few surprises waiting for me.

Overall, I liked the characters far more than the plot. I finished the book appreciating what Manju Kapur was trying to say about women, class, and identity, but I can't honestly say I enjoyed the journey as much as I had expected when I first opened it.

Well, another Namita Gokhale book this week and this one felt quite unlike anything else I've read by her.

'The Jaipur Journals' unfolds against the backdrop of the Jaipur Literature Festival, where an eclectic mix of writers, readers, publishers, journalists, celebrities, and literary hopefuls all converge over a few hectic days. Each arrives carrying their own ambitions, insecurities, backstories, and peculiar quirks.As you might imagine, things get... complicated.The novel constantly shifts between different characters, their conversations, and their intersecting lives. I must admit that I occasionally lost track of who was who, but somehow that never really diminished the experience.Having never attended the Jaipur Literature Festival myself, I found the setting to be one of the book's greatest strengths. By the end, I felt I had at least experienced a little of its atmosphere, and spectacle.

It almost made me want to attend one someday.The book is packed with interconnected stories, gentle wit, and observational humour. There are plenty of amusing moments, and the characters are quirky enough to keep things lively.

And yet...

This is one of those books I admired more than I actually enjoyed.I appreciated what Gokhale was trying to do, I liked the setting, and I enjoyed many of the individual scenes. But somehow, the whole never quite came together for me.Overall, an interesting and cleverly written novel that offers a glimpse into the world of literary festivals. I liked it, I'm glad I read it, but I can't honestly say I loved it.

This is a lovely book!!It's on a subject I knew almost nothing about, yet it kept me hooked like a cat sniffing a salmon. I picked it up expecting to learn a little about perfumes; I came away having learnt a great deal about India's history, geography, botany, and culture along the way.

'The Perfume Project: Journeys Through Indian Fragrance' by Divrina Dhingra is a delightful blend of travel writing, history, science, and personal memoir. The book is organised around six iconic Indian fragrances: rose, jasmine, sandalwood, saffron, oud, and vetiver.

Each chapter follows one fragrance through its journey: where it grows, how it is cultivated and distilled, the history behind it, and the people whose lives are intertwined with it. Along the way we travel to places like Kannauj, Madurai, Mysore, Assam, and Hasayan, discovering that perfume is as much about geography and culture as it is about smell.I learnt an astonishing amount while turning these pages.One of my favourite parts of the book was the artwork. The illustrations, especially those of the source plants, were simply beautiful. Somehow, as I read about each fragrance, I found myself almost able to smell aromas that weren't actually there.

Now, I should confess that I am not really a perfume person. In fact, anything stronger than a very subtle fragrance usually gives me a headache. So if someone had told me I'd thoroughly enjoy a book about perfumes, I would probably have been rather sceptical.Yet this turned out to be one perfumed experience that I absolutely loved.

The writing is accessible, the facts are fascinating, and every chapter leaves you appreciating that behind every tiny bottle of fragrance lies centuries of history, craftsmanship, and human ingenuity.Overall, a wonderfully fragrant journey through India; without triggering my usual perfume induced headache. That's quite an achievement.

Also a shoutout to Dogears Bookstore in Goa for getting me the signed copy.

Well, here's another signed book that I bought for one very scientific reason:it was signed.

I picked up 'Arthur: At the Crossing Places' by Kevin Crossley Holland from my long time Instagram based pre-loved bookseller, @bookhub_01. It was only after I had started reading that I discovered I had, quite unintentionally, begun with the second book of a trilogy.Thankfully, that didn't prove to be much of a problem.

The story follows Arthur as he serves as a squire to a lord while preparing for the Fourth Crusade. Running alongside this historical coming of age story is the legendary world of King Arthur, Merlin, Excalibur, and the Round Table, with myth and history quietly weaving into one another.It's a setting that had fascinated me years ago, so I was more than happy to go along for the ride.

The novel is an easy, comfortable read. Even without having read the first book, I never felt lost. There is enough context that I could simply settle into Arthur's journey without constantly wondering what I had missed.The pacing is certainly on the slower side, but oddly enough it kept me hooked. There isn't a constant stream of battles or dramatic twists, yet I found myself turning the pages quite happily and finished the book in just a couple of days.Perhaps that says something about the quiet charm of the writing.Will I read the third volume? Almost certainly.Would I recommend the series to everyone? Probably not.

If stories of Merlin, medieval England, Arthurian legends, and old British folklore don't particularly interest you, this may not be the book for you. But if, like me, you occasionally enjoy wandering through that mythical world where history and legend refuse to stay apart, it's a thoroughly enjoyable read.

Well, I have been missing from here for the last two weeks! Most of that time was spent travelling to Athens, catching up with colleagues, enjoying some wonderful Greek fruits and vegetables, and yes... doing the occasional bit of work as well.Now that I'm back, it's time for the signed books to make their return too.

Today's book was my travel companion. I carried "Coconut: A Global History" by Constance Kirker and Mary Newman to Athens, reading the first half on the inbound flight and finishing the rest on the way home.As a side effect of the trip, one of my colleagues confessed to being a devoted coconut oil enthusiast. We have now agreed upon a future olive oil-coconut oil exchange programme during my next visit. International diplomacy at its finest.

Much like "Mango: A Global History", which I reviewed earlier, this book looks beyond the fruit itself and explores the coconut as a cultural object. It travels through history, cuisine, religion, trade, and everyday life across different parts of the world, showing how one humble fruit has found a place in remarkably diverse societies.If I had one small complaint, it is that the book gives the United States rather more attention than I expected. I suspect that reflects its primary readership more than the coconut's actual cultural importance. Personally, I would happily have traded a few American pages for more on the Philippines, Indonesia, Sri Lanka, or our own South India, where the coconut is practically a member of the family.I also found myself wishing for a chapter on coconut chutneys, appams, and the glorious 'sukka' dishes of coastal India. Surely those deserve a place in any global history of the coconut!

That said, I enjoyed learning about the coconut traditions of the Philippines and other Asian countries. Several of the customs and recipes were new to me, and I made a mental note to try them if I ever get the chance to visit.Like its companion volume on mangoes, this is a short, easy book that can comfortably be finished in a few hours. It is packed with fascinating trivia and little cultural nuggets that make you look at an everyday ingredient rather differently.Overall, an enjoyable read. I only wished there had been a little more of it; but then again, much like a fresh tender coconut on a hot day, it was over sooner than I would have liked.

Also a big shoutout to Midland Bookstore for the signed copy.

Some years ago, I came across a podcast by Bart Ehrman, the biblical scholar. That rabbit hole led me to pick up six of his books, and for a while I became quite fascinated by the history of the Bible; not the miracles and mythology, but the history behind the texts themselves. Around the same time, I came across "Resurrection: Myth or Reality?" by John Shelby Spong, whose work Ehrman had reviewed in the past. The fact that I found a signed copy sealed the deal.

Like most modern biblical scholars, Spong starts from the premise that a historical Jesus almost certainly existed and was crucified, but without the supernatural elements that later became central to Christian belief. From there, he turns his attention to the resurrection narratives.Spong's main argument is that these stories should not be read literally. Instead, he sees them as faith filled narratives created by early Christians to express what Jesus meant to them and what his death came to signify for the emerging church. In that sense, the Gospels are less historical reporting and more theological storytelling.

That makes this a rather unusual book. It is neither a traditional defence of Christian doctrine nor an outright sceptical attack on it. Instead, Spong seems to be searching for a middle ground between historians, atheists, churches, and believers. He accepts much of the historical scholarship while attempting to preserve the spiritual and philosophical significance of Jesus.

Whether that balancing act succeeds will probably depend on the reader.

For me, the historical material was the most interesting part. Having already worked through a fair amount of Ehrman's writing, much of the historical narrative was familiar territory. What I could clearly see, however, was Spong's effort to give that history a philosophical and theological dimension.

And that is where the book and I parted ways a little.I generally prefer history to remain history. Once authors begin layering philosophical interpretations over historical events, my interest tends to drift.

That said, the book is well argued, and easy to read considering the subject matter. Even when I disagreed with its direction, I appreciated the attempt to ask difficult questions without retreating into either dogma or dismissal. I came for the history and found quite a bit of philosophy waiting for me.

​

From yesterday's murder mystery, we move to another book that contains a murder mystery, but here, that is not really the heart of the story.

"Where the Crawdads Sing" by Delia Owens is, at its core, a story about resilience, and the natural world. The novel follows Kya, who is abandoned one by one by her family and left to raise herself in the marshes. Isolated from school and society, she grows up as what the townspeople call the "Marsh Girl"; a figure surrounded by suspicion and prejudice.Running alongside Kya's story is the death of Chase, a popular local man whose mysterious death eventually places Kya under suspicion. The investigation provides the novel's structure, but for me, it was never the main attraction.The saddest part of the book is undoubtedly the abandonment. Watching a child navigate the world alone is never easy reading. Yet what I found far more memorable was the way the novel treats nature.As someone who enjoys the outdoors, I loved the theme of nature as both home and teacher. Kya learns from birds, tides, insects, plants, and changing seasons in ways that no classroom could have taught her. The book treats that knowledge as genuine intelligence rather than some quaint rustic curiosity.

That perspective appealed to me immensely.It probably helps that Delia Owens spent much of her career as a wildlife scientist. The marshes feel alive throughout the novel. The birds, water, mud, grasses, and changing weather are described with the confidence of someone who has spent years paying attention to them.

The story itself is beautifully laid out and easy to read. I must admit, however, that I found the ending fairly predictable. Not enough to spoil the experience, but enough that I wasn't particularly shocked when the final pieces fell into place.

Overall, a very enjoyable read. Come for the murder mystery if you must, but stay for the marshes, the wildlife, and a protagonist who learns that survival sometimes requires becoming your own family.

Today's novel is one that I left halfway through, which is perhaps a review in itself. "The Light of Day" by Graham Swift came to me as a signed copy from @bookhub_01, my longtime Instagram based pre loved books dealer.

The novel unfolds over a single November day in 1997. George, a disgraced former policeman turned private investigator, is preparing to visit the grave of Bob and later Sarah, the woman imprisoned for killing him.As the story progresses, we learn that George had become deeply entangled in the case. Sarah had hired him to keep an eye on Bob, whose affair with a Croatian refugee had destabilised the marriage. That seemingly routine assignment slowly pulled George into a complicated web of relationships and consequences that he never fully controlled.

The narrative constantly moves back and forth between the present day and events from two years earlier, gradually revealing what happened and how everyone became connected.Now, this is where I confess defeat.

I can see what Swift was trying to do. The writing is thoughtful, introspective, and carefully constructed. The fragmented timeline slowly builds a picture of guilt, memory, obsession, and loss.Unfortunately, it never really clicked for me.Perhaps I was simply not in the right mood for such a reflective and slow moving novel.

And somewhere around the halfway mark, a better book came along and won the competition for my attention.

I may return to it someday. After all, I have abandoned books before and later discovered that I enjoyed them immensely when I approached them at the right time.

For now, however, "The Light of Day" joins the small but respectable club of books that defeated my concentration before I defeated their page count.

Well, from medicine we move to business. "Go, Kiss the World" by Subroto Bagchi is an interesting change of pace after my last book review. Bagchi, for those unfamiliar with him, is the co-founder of Mindtree and one of the better known voices in Indian business writing. The book is part memoir and part philosophy of work and life. It begins with a childhood marked by material simplicity, limited comforts, and a household where discipline, curiosity, respect, and hard work were taken seriously. The title itself comes from the last words spoken to him by his blind mother: "Go, kiss the world." That phrase becomes the emotional and moral centre of the entire book.From there, Bagchi takes us through his education, his early jobs, his years at DCM and Wipro, and eventually the founding of Mindtree along with ten others. If you enjoy stories about the early days of Indian business and entrepreneurship, there is plenty here to appreciate.The book's central message is refreshingly simple: success should not be measured by what you own, but by the kind of person you become. Modesty, integrity, respect for ordinary people, dignity in work, and ethical conduct appear repeatedly throughout the narrative.

And this is where my relationship with the book became slightly complicated. I agree with almost everything Bagchi says. In fact, much of it is advice I wish more business leaders would follow. But as a reader, I tend to gravitate toward books packed with facts, anecdotes, history, and behind the scenes details. Bagchi, on the other hand, enjoys pausing frequently to reflect on the lessons behind the experiences. So while I appreciated the philosophy, I occasionally found myself wishing for a little less preaching and a few more stories. That said, the book is very easy to read, sincere throughout, and never feels cynical or self congratulatory. Even when I didn't fully connect with the philosophising, I could never doubt the authenticity behind it.

Overall, an enjoyable read especially for readers who like business memoirs with a strong ethical core. For me, the stories were good; the lessons were probably even better, though I confess I was more interested in the former than the latter.