A Khaled Hosseini novel takes you on a journey that cuts across time, space and borders. Whether it was through the eyes of two little boys in Kite Runner, or through the eyes of two fierce and strong women in A Thousand Splendid Suns, Hosseini has a craftsmanship in his writing that can evoke a lump in the throat with as much ease as he can leave a wistful smile on your face.

His recent magnum, And the Mountains Echoed, is no different from his previous works in that sense. The same ominous sense of foreboding is present right through this novel too as it takes you to a different Afghanistan, one that has contours of a time even before the disastrous hand of war destroyed the fabric of its existence. He takes you along all the way from Afghanistan to France, Greece and San Francisco. Opening with the rendition of a bedtime story by a father to his two children, the book begins with a tale that pretty much sets the stage for the events that will unfold in the coming pages. Starting out in an Afghan village in the 1950s, the story begins with a young boy, Abdullah, and his sister Pari. The two of them are soul siblings in the truest sense of the term; the bond between them is so deep, poignant and palpably strong. Just when you think that the bond surpasses the supremacy of the filial tie, and that it will remain unshakeable, something happens that shakes up their lives and throws the familiar out of the window. As Hosseini puts it, sometimes a finger must be cut to save the hand. Travelling across the world – from Afghanistan to San Francisco, from Tinos in Greece to Paris, you get vague glimpses of life in India and a touch-and-go with a refugee-camp in Pakistan.

While at it, reading some parts of the book might feel like being in the centre of an anthology of short stories. Hang in there though, because they tie into the main narrative in a very neat rendition. What sets Hosseini apart is that every little character – whether obscure or prominent – is given a complete story. You don’t find yourself wondering what a character wound up doing in the book – each person is a thread in an intricately woven fabric. Hosseini shows you the larger reality through smaller realities. He tells you that life goes on everywhere, you simply have to dust yourself and move on. One thing that is certain with Khaled Hosseini’s writing is that you are sure to reach for the box of tissues: whether in absolute inexplicable grief along with the characters, or the feeling of helplessness at the larger ethos that is reality in Afghanistan.

Seventeen and Done (You bet!) by Vibha Batra chronicles the trials and tribulations of its seventeen-year old protagonist Rinki Tripathi. Her teenage life is strewn with the usual challenges – exams, parents, relatives and friends to name a few, but Vibha handles them in a refreshing manner. The book is not preachy or moralistic, but comes across as a witty take on a teenager’s life and all the sticky situations that come along with it.

Vibha’s first book Sweet Sixteen (Yeah, right!) published by Penguin was very well-received and led to talks of a sequel. But that is something she had already planned for. The first book starts with Rinki moving cities from Kolkata to Chennai, just like Vibha did at a similar age but this is where the similarity ends. The second book follows Rinki’s life as she tries to form her own identity amidst parental and peer pressure, earning the wrath of the no-nonsense Princy, while balancing the Board year and grappling with matters of the heart.

The book touches upon challenging teen issues like late night curfews, the frustrating deadline at pubs, the one upmanship at social networking sites and job pressure in a light-hearted manner. Seventeen… also drives home the message that not all 18-year olds want to be doctors or engineers and it is best to pursue your passion. The protagonist wants to become a fashion stylist and writes her own blog dishing out fashion gyan. The characters are interesting and real, be it Mausiji, her parents or her friends. While Rinki is fashionable and opinionated, Google is gregarious, fun loving, resourceful and believes in working smart. Adit, on the other hand, is Rinki’s voice of reason – he is a straight arrow, who believes in working hard. The usually studious Robin is in a long-distance relationship with Sriram (from book one!), so she is a little distracted. Sudha is a sweet girl, and a devoted follower of both Rinki and Robin.

Written in a breathless, rollercoaster style echoing the thought process of young Rinki, Seventeen is a fun ride you wish you could go on, again and again. Young adults (at whom the book is targeted) will easily identify with the characters and will be sure to enjoy the book, peppered as it is with Facebook status updates, BBM messages, blogs and pop culture references. For the older reader, the book will make you want to go back to your school days- the best days of your life when you had zero responsibilities and maximum fun. Read on a quiet afternoon and relive the days of fun, friendship and freedom.

(Seventeen and Done is part of Inked, Penguin’s new imprint for young adults. To connect with Rinki and learn more about the book, visit www.facebook.com/seventeenanddone)

Norwegian journalist Åsne Seierstad is perhaps the only one who got to cover the Afghan war after 9/11, and the Iraq-US war in 2003. To put out information as the war happens in the form of news is one thing: but to chronicle one’s story and rendition of their time in the country is a whole different endeavour. Attempting to do the latter, Seierstad’s book is a narration of her time in Afghanistan with a local family, and of the view of the world from their side of the lens.

With the Taliban falling in November 2001, Seierstad managed to find a rather educated and sympathetic Afghan bookseller in the heart of Kabul. Their lives are a sharp contrast: whether in the most basic difference of ethnicity, or in their way of leading life and treating others in their family. Written in simple language and in a narrative style that is very casual, the book is a beautiful reflection that drives home a simple truth: whether you are Norwegian or Afghan, a relief worker or a reporter, a bookseller or a bomb-squad expert, at the end of the day, all you want is some food, shelter and clothing, and a way to stay safe.

Seierstad begins from the same spot that most international reporters started from. Their trip down the Hindu Kush, right into the interiors of the Intercontinental Hotel, where there is a well-stocked bookstore that has some of the most coveted titles of all time. The owner is intelligent, to say the least, and an exception to the norm of grossly prevalent illiteracy. He leaves you with haunting words of truth: ‘First, the Communists burnt my books, then the Mujahideen looted and pillaged, finally the Taliban burnt them all over again.’

The narrative is a fictionalized account, and does not degenerate into a boring and linear narrative of her adventures as a traveller. She meets the bookseller and moves in with him, and watches his family as they go about their normal lives. But she is nowhere in the book – for it is written as one would write a piece of fiction.

Seierstad’s leading protagonist is the quintessential patriarch, for all the exposure he boasts of otherwise. His family is also an extension of his business, as each one stands sullenly in their allotted roles, unflinching in their “duties” to each other. Seierstad makes an explosive display of the family dynamics: the bookseller’s sister is nearly his slave, his son is a breadwinner of sorts as he is made to sell sweets at the hotel rather than study at school, his first wife is in a difficult spot as he chooses a sixteen-year-old to be his second wife and his elder son speaks candidly about sexual slavery and how poverty stricken women are made to suffer sexual abuse in the face of utter poverty. There are tales of harsh reality: stories of sexual abuse, discrimination of women and honour killings where brothers are sent to kill a girl who follows her heart and gives into an affair that her family frowns on.

After meeting resounding success for the book in its Norwegian version, the book made waves when its English version hit the markets. One among myriads of books that the rich landscape of war-stricken Afghanistan has inspired, The Bookseller of Kabul holds its own ground without much difficulty. The quality that swings everything in its favour is the candour with which the story is told. That Seierstad adores the family she stayed with is obvious, as she accepts them un-judgmentally. But her heart goes out for the women in the family, as they are jostled about and treated like dust. It doesn’t matter how old or young the man is: just being male is qualification enough to dominate over a woman.

To Seierstad, the book is about just ‘one middle-class family, if one can use that expression in Afghanistan’. And, of course that is what is so compulsive, repulsive and frightening. If this is what life is like in the family of Afghanistan’s answer to Tim Waterstone, there is clearly no hope for Afghanistan.

Indian writers and thrillers are rather far apart, and therefore one can be forgiven for approaching this book with some scepticism, since it has been billed a thriller. A former office of the Sikh Light Infantry, NDA alumnus Mukul Deva digs from within his experience in the armed forces to come up with a book titled RIP, or Resurgent Indian Patriots.

The central character of the book is the protagonist Colonel Krishna Athavale. The Colonel and his team of Special Forces Officers – known as the K-Team, since their names all begin with the letter K – are a set of vigilantes calling themselves RIP. The RIP wants to protect the country against rampant corruption prevalent in the system. To this end, they are willing to do anything, including kill politicians, judges and government officials who are perpetrators of scams, having siphoned off many crores of rupees. There is also the copybook antagonist in the form of Raghav Bhagat, who is also a former armed forces operative, mired in scandal himself and who has been hired by corrupt politicians to hunt out the RIP.

The beginning of the book has many characters drawn from real life incidents and scams, with just their names altered. There are also mentions of real scams like the Bofors and the 2G spectrum scam. It is not very difficult to draw a parallel to the real life people and one wishes the author had used his imagination to come up with some different situations instead of pulling them out of newspaper reports. But, barring that small flaw, the book is rather racy and keeps the reader quite on the edge.

The assassinations are carried out by the RIP with detailed planning, given that they are all trained Special Forces men, to arm twist the establishment and get the Lokpal bill passed in the parliament. The scared, scam-tainted Home Minister and his cronies engage their own special operative – former SPG Raghav Bhagat – who is a conscience-less mercenary and has his own axe to grind with Athavale. The State Police Force is also on their heels, trying to nose out the assassins. It turns out to be quite a cat and mouse chase, even as the RIP continue to evade everybody and continue on their killing spree, hitting quite high up in the political hierarchy.

Interspersed in the plot is a love story between Athavale and a television news anchor Reena Bhagat, the separated wife of antagonist Raghav, a rather sweet and sentimental addition to the story. Between the action and the love story, the readers are drawn quite well into the book. The story is also well thought out, considering the author’s knowledge of the inner workings of the security forces and the SPG that provides protection to politicians, the details are spelt out meticulously.

Given that corruption is a household issue in the country right now, this plot will strike a chord with most readers. One may not agree with the way justice is dispensed by the RIP, but it will still find you rooting for them, against the state police force and the establishment. Overall, a rather simple but well-paced read that will have you decide that Indian writers are not bad with thrillers after all!

If Harry Potter, the Lord of the Rings and the Chronicles of Narnia was the literary diet you grew up on, Amish Tripathi and Rajiv Menon could well be the best prescriptions for your dose of fantasy fiction, while connecting you with your heritage.

Thundergod –The Ascendance of Indra tells the story of Indra. Indra is regarded as the God among Gods – for being the only one of them all that is closest to being a man, for he is a god that makes mistakes. With flaws aplenty – arrogance, ego, anger and insecurity – Indra is central to the plot. A very beautifully woven storyline and a rich fabric of Indian mythology come together in a mellifluous melange of literary grandeur.

Thundergod takes us through the war between the Devas and the Asuras, with Indra’s character forming a very significant part. The tagline of the story hauntingly reads: ‘One day a prince from one of the four great tribes will unite the sons of Aditi and he will sow the seeds of an empire that will rule the world.’ Indra’s character is a common thread that runs through different sub-plots and stories, fusing them in what forms the grand big picture. Some of the book’s best moments and descriptive prose are of the war that took place at the Gates of Susa, the deluge of waters that destroyed the very edifice of the Harappan civilization and the fantastic stories of Mitra. Rajiv Menon has done immense justice to Indra’s character, portraying him in a very relate-able fashion, in shades of humanity. The story also carries within it a very poignant rendition of relationships: especially that of Indra’s close ties with Soma.

However, what pins you down about the book is not the narrative, but the way in which Indra is presented. That is the crowning glory of the literary achievement that the book is. That Indra is the subject is in itself a matter worth appreciating – as the core focus of most Indian fantasy fiction has more to do with Vishnu or Shiva and their myriad avatars.

If one had to point out the downside, it would be the over imperfection of the Gods. While the genre of imperfect lords is well received, the flaws begin to rear its head when you find that the imperfections are not handled or narrated in the right way. One such example is the sexualisation without sensualisation of the story. The scenes seem to lack flavour, and are largely rendered with a strange impassiveness. One other mild drawback is the overt attention that seems to be attached to Indra. He may be the central character, but that doesn’t allow license to overshadow the other characters in the book whatsoever.

Nevertheless, Thundergod is a book worth reading and re-reading, as it breaks new ground in the rendition of fantasy/mythology.

Imagine a community ravaged by conflict. What would the people be thinking of? Survival, that’s a given. Means to find the bare necessities, of course. Reading and learning Charles Dickens?

That’s a first.

Mister Pip, a beautiful tale by Commonwealth Prize Winner Lloyd Jones, tells the world of a story where reading Dickens represents salvation for a community torn by conflict. Set in a village on the Papua New Guinea island of Bougainville during a brutal civil war in the 1990s, the story is rendered from the eyes of Matilda, the 13-year-old narrator. The story begins with a blockade that has just begun. As helicopters circle the skies, the schools are empty and teachers have fled for their lives.

The entire island has only one white man, with a home in the jungle and an abiding love for Dickens. This kind man, Mr. Watts, is a firm believer in the fact that knowledge sets minds free. He assumes responsibilities of teaching the children of the village. With dreams of making the classroom “a place of light”, he takes the children through Great Expectations where they discover something just as vital as bare subsistence, “a bigger piece of the world” that they can enter at will.

In the beginning, there is a wonderful exposition on the escapist joys of reading. The sheer foreign element of Dickens’s world, its rimy mornings and blacksmith’s forges hold the class’ attention. Young Matilda falls in love with the orphan Pip, even going on to building him a beachfront shrine. When the war draws closer, the subversion of the stories seems to shine brighter. Mister Pip is mistakenly assumed by “redskin” soldiers to be a rebel fighter that they cannot seem to find. At that moment, the boundary between fiction and reality dissolves.

Great Expectations changes young Matilda. In a country bereft of any knowledge-inculcation, she finds herself instilled with a moral code. Their book is destroyed, midway. But Mr Watts jumps in, filling in, recounting Pip’s tale in instalments to avert disaster. The yarn he spins combines elements from many lives: those of his own, Pip’s and the islanders’.

The story is a magnificent rendition, carving a microcosm of post-colonial literature, putting together narratives that speak of races and fables. In an island split by war, Charles Dickens unites.

An Iraqi woman and a British reporter exchange emails every day. What’s special about that, you ask. One’s a brave, hard-smoking lecturer of English. The other is a mother of three and a news reporter. Hard to guess which? May Witwit lives in Baghdad, Iraq, braving bullets and bombs just so she can go get her hair cut and blow dried, lecturing at a university. Bee Rowlatt is a mother of three, and a feisty lady trooping through the trials and tribulations of motherhood. The paths of the two women cross each other in a way that redefines their lives.

A simple email brings the two of them together, and takes them on a journey that shows them a friendship like nothing before. Transcending the differences of culture, religion and age, Talking About Jane Austen in Baghdad is the story of two women who share laughter and tears, swapping their confidences, dreams and fears. In the backdrop of war-stricken Iraq and an urban British setting, the two women come together to hatch an ingenious plan to help May escape the bombings of Baghdad.

Between bloodbaths and baking cakes, the two women send a volley of emails back and forth, talking about war, about teaching English and nitpicking husbands. May needs to escape a difficult future in Iraq. Bee wants to help her, but the lynchpin is money. In a revolutionary turn of sorts, the two women decide to take the plunge and plan to get May the money she needs: by publishing a book. The book they published is the very one that’s being reviewed here: comprising a chronicled rendition of all their emails. Their emails touch upon everything from hairdressers and Jane Austen to the Sunni-Shia conflict and the corruption in Iraq; from baking cakes for school sales and summer vacations, to democracy and daughters.

The book is simple, yet hard-hitting. With a clean insight into the different worlds that run in parallel, the book shows that humanity thrives across cultures, and that sisterhood is a bond that can be forged through any medium. Although the emails work well at the beginning, gradually the pace slows. It is an insightful journey for anyone that is interested in the challenges one faces while living in a war zone in the Middle East, in stark contrast to a Western Society habituated to modern-day democracy. If you’re looking for a racy, fast-paced book, this is not the best choice: the story degenerates into a crib-fest in parts, and also projects a superfluous proclivity on the part of the West in understanding the difficulties of a war zone.