The White Tiger by Aravind Adiga was the winner of the Man Booker Prize in 2008. But I didn't enjoy it. It wasn't the worst thing that I've read in the last couple of months, but I was certainly disappointed.
I think the main reason for my disappointment was the writing itself. I understand that the narrator is an uneducated Indian, but I didn't like the format of the letters, nor did I like the simplicity of the language. More so, on reflection, I don't think I liked the voice of the narrator at all.
In some ways I have to forgive these reasons, because I have not read anything else by Aravind Adiga. For all I know, the writing style perfectly reflected the character of the narrator - who was not a very nice person. In which case, the reasons I so disliked this book are actually very clever writing techniques. But, I can't completely forgive these things - it could have been written from an omnipresent narrator, and the story would still have been a striking a depiction of India.
The reviews called it 'blazingly savage and brilliant', but it's probably just the truth. The truth is savage, and the hot Indian sun makes that savagery blazing! I have no doubt of the corruption, and the dramatic differences between the poor and the middle class that exist in any country dragging itself into the first-world. It doesn't make this book a masterpiece, but it is a story that will take you away from your comfortable bedroom for a few hours.
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