Needed an editor (and a final proofreading),
This review is from: The Letters (Paperback)
I had trouble with this because it wasn't serial enough for my liking: an initial lovers' bustup, and then from there on in the episodes did not make any chronological sense. Interspersed with pages and pages of backstory, which I suppose was there in order to flesh out the protagonist, but instead may just have been an act of catharsis, was a domestic tale of spiteful village jealousies, all seen through the eyes of the unlikeable and somewhat poisonous narrator, whom I could not believe. And interspersed with *that* are these mysterious letters from some 50 or so years before (all dated meticulously to 1959) whose origins are not investigated. (If it had been me, I would at least have examined the postmark to see where they had come from.)
There are spelloes, malapropisms and grammatical mistakes (the ubiquitous "her" instead of "she" in a compound subject at one point), and even typesetting errors. Granted it's a small press (dare I say: an amateur press?) and this sort of thing happens -- but it does detract.
The punchline, when it happens, is a bit of an anticlimax, but then it does make sort of sense. I just wish I could have begun to like any of the characters in it. Maybe this is what Satya is trying to say: everybody is flawed, nobody is likeable, this is the sort of rubbish you have to share the world with, look, give a break to the people around you, they probably think as little of you as you do of them.
Be a bit more tolerant, yeah? And that goes for you too, Westwood.