I just finished the 2008 Booker Prize winner “The White Tiger” by Aravind Adiga and I’m wondering what all the fuss is about really. To me, it’s not better than any Rohinton Mistry or Vikram Seth – though it’s been awhile since I read their works. I’ve been trying to think of the things that make it different from other Indian fiction, that may have stood out for the judges.
The obvious things are the angry rants about injustices in Indian society (I bet the Indian Tourism Board don’t have this on on their recommended reading list), and that the main character is a little unlikeable – well he was to me. Many of the Indian-themed books I’ve read seem charming, quaint or nostalgic about the simpler, family or community-based life of the sub-continent. I’m guessing that’s because usually the authors I’ve read are Canadian-based Indians re-imagining the India of their childhoods or their bi-annual holidays. So Adiga’s tone comes across as far more cynical and streetwise, which I suppose is closer to what the average Indian is nowdays likely to be feeling.
What horrified me about the book was the premise that in order to succeed in India, you stand no chance unless violence, bribery, theft or luck are your tools. When our protaganist acts every bit as despicably as his former masters when given his chance it hit home to me that things are indeed bleak in India nowdays. Luckily it’s only a novel, and not all main characters can or should be likeable, so perhaps that’s what got this gritty piece of Indian reality over the line.
I didn’t love it, but it’s still worth 4 stars.