Booker Bore

Turgid, over-written, ponderous and depressing, The Inheritance Of Loss re-affirms my eroding faith in "literary" tomes that come bedecked with critical plaudits and trailing awards in its self-important wake.
It's the Umpteenth NRI take on the Indian sub-continent, that's peopled with degenerate natives who still wipe snot on curtains and take to the streets chanting slogans or take up arms to further their cause. Not that this isn't what's happening. Intead, I ask, is this the ONLY depiction we need to keep being treated to? I suppose I should outline the plot, dissect its characters and ponder its message, but honestly I can't be fucked with all that. Instead allow me to direct you to Jim Crace's no-bullshit digested review of it here. Hell, he gives you the low-down on ALL of last years Booker Nominees for those, who like me, will blissfully be giving the lot of them, a miss. Enjoy!