This massive 715 page novel has been sitting on my bookshelf for more than 2 years as I have avoided the large commitment reading it would have entailed.  So, why now?  Possibly it’s because I really did love his previous books, “Cutting for Stone” and “The Tennis Player”. Possibly it’s because I noticed that he will be this year’s commencement speaker at my alma mater, Harvard, a particularly challenging time for the institution as Trump attempts to destroy it.  But it’s probably that I just got tired of staring at the book spine month after month.

I’m glad I read it.  It’s a huge, sweeping family saga situated on the southwest coast of India chronicalling events in one family from 1900 to 1977.  The book begins with the marriage of a 12 year old girl and concludes with her granddaughter finding her own mother years after she feared she had died.  We experience the joys of a loving marriage and parental devotion in a setting in which life is fragile and often tragic though in a setting of natural beauty and bounty.  Good people experience devastating losses but persevere.

The book was chosen for Oprah’s book club, was named one of the NYT’s 100 Notable Books of the Year, and was on the best seller list for 37 weeks, but failed to gain notice for any literary awards.  I find myself in agreement with this dichotomy of recognition—a grand, sweeping novel that’s a good read, but lacking in depth, detail, and that intangible which has me rushing back to read a great book whenever I have a chance.  Finishing this book wasn’t exactly a slog, but it was also not at the top of my to-do list each day.  A 700+ book which fails to make me cry or laugh out loud fails my sniff test,

I look forward to hearing Verghese’s remarks about our troubling times later this week because he is an intelligent, compassionate, and literary physician, but I’m not recommending this book.