Small things

I recently read the book 'The god of small things' by Arundhati Roy. Like some other books I've read of late, it meandered through a story, taking turns here and there, back and forwards through time, then returning to the present. It could be hard to follow at times, but the poetic language and the anticipation of all the tangents coming together, kept me reading.

Here is a sample:

"It was past midnight. The river had risen, its waters quick and black, snaking towards the sea, carrying with it cloudy night skies, a whole palm frond, part of a thatched fence, and other gifts the wind had given it.

In a while the rain slowed to a drizzle and then stopped. The breeze shook water from the trees and for a while it rained only under trees, where shelter had once been."

I just realised that, predictably, the quote is about weather...oh well