The Internet Personified: February 2025 Books and Culture Recap
Notes from my jet lagged brain
I’m here in Delhi, writing this, where the weather is so glorious I’ve made up my mind to always do my Annual India Trip in March. (When poss, that is. Sometimes a person gets distracted.) It’s funny, back in Berlin, my Indian friends don’t even question the annual nature of my visit (month-long etc) while my non-Indian ones ask in wonder, “You go every year? For one month?” I mean, it’s not like this is some long established tradition, only the second year now I’ve done this. For a long time, I was struggling with my visa—as in, they just weren’t giving me an appointment so I kept going back and forth every three months on a Schengen—so I’m thankful those days are over and now I can make some sort of plan for my future, including timing my India visit to when suits me instead of just when my visa runs out. Visas are a scourge!
I got in Sunday late night and immediately on Monday went to the little Mangal Bazaar near my mum’s. In this part of Delhi (East), the traditional weekly market is thriving, especially in the smaller villages that exist in the junction of two big gated colonies. Mangal, for my non-Hindi speaking readers, means Monday, and every Monday, the brick and mortar shops close and a whole avalanche of street stalls open. You begin with fresh fruit and veg, move on to more eatables (biscuits, fried things) and then my reason for being there: the clothes. Since Delhi is one of the places international designers and labels send their clothes to be manufactured there are a lot of factory rejects, which should be burnt, but are instead sold by some enterprising middleman to the many people who put up stalls like the ones we went to all over Delhi. Usually a small market like this particular Mangal Bazaar wouldn’t have anything nice for someone like me, say. In the past it used to be mostly salwar kameezes or baby clothes, men’s shirts hanging up, waving polyester sleeves in the wind. But recently, in the past few years, this Mangal Bazaar has actually become really good for street shopping. Most people familiar with Delhi’s street shopping will know Sarojini Nagar Market, an all-week round affair, and basically all of our Holy Grail in terms of markets. I have favourite stalls, and usually go with an eye to a trend, which I can pick up for a few hundred rupees if I bargain. (Berlin has limited my closet space which sucks, but I’m still going to go obvs.) But Sarojini is familiar, and the stall owners there know that they’re selling to people who know what things are worth, I guess? So the prices and the demand are both high. Mangal Bazaar is still undiscovered, or maybe not, actually. Certainly there were enough people jostling me, eager to pick up what I had just set down, but the prices remained low-ish. One stall, where both my mum and I pretty much bought his entire stock (ok, ok, five things) had apparently gotten overstock from some of those pure cotton Indian labels. FabIndia or Bombay Paisley. I got a lovely shrug from some label called True Browns. (Oh wait, look I found it! This jacket from this set.) This t-shirt dress from a different stall selling nightwear. The nice thing about Mangal Bazaar is that it feels like a treasure hunt, and part of the fun of street shopping is the FINDING of it all. (And I didn’t pay more than 300 rupees—2.50 Euro for my Europeans reading this—for anything.)
The above has nothing to do with culture, but I just wanted to tell you.
Books I read
As you know, I went to Spain in February and whenever I’m on holiday I wind up reading everything I’ve ever loaded on to my Kindle for a rainy day. K got a nasty cough-cold-fever at the very beginning of our trip so in nursing him, I also stayed in the hotel room and read some more.
Storygraph (which is my preferred book tracking website) gives you a nice monthly collage and stats which are perfect for this kind of post.
Unravelling Oliver by Liz Nugent: Enjoyed this at the time, but now thinking back, I can only come up with a fuzzy recall. Basically a man hits his wife hard enough for her to fall on the floor and into a coma, and his name is Oliver and here we have all these points of view about Oliver, all these different people in his life weighing in about him, which is actually a great way to write this kind of book, but I think I’m tired of reading about interesting monsters. Some people come from terrible family backgrounds and are violent, other people aren’t. Unfortunately interesting monsters are much more gripping as a book subject than their victims, so books like this will continue to be popular. The whole this-violent-man-may-be-violent-but-look-how-complicated-he-is genre. I enjoyed it, but with like a guilty feeling like listening to Blurred Lines.
Light A Penny Candle by Maeve Binchy: Continuing my Maeve Binchy reads with this one aka the Maeve Binchy that Tom Hanks cites as one of his biggest fiction writing influences. (NB: I haven’t read any of Tom Hanks’ books but he keeps popping up in re: other books I’ve read, like Ann Patchett’s essay about Hanks’ assistant for instance.)
Jar of Hearts by Jennifer Hillier: You guys know I read murder mysteries for “comfort” and Jar of Hearts had come up on another list about best thrillers or something, but eh. Veryyyy long drawn out beginning where the protagonist is in prison, swift and often unwieldy middle part and not a great ending to be honest. Too much “ooooh a FINAL REVEAL.” I hate that.
Wrong Place, Wrong Time by Gillian McAllister: A murder mystery AND a time loop story? I loved it. A bit hand wavy over the details, a bit not-so-invested in the murder mystery which is basically a mother trying to save her son from killing someone but the son was a distinctly unlovable character throughout so I was like, “Eh, just cut your losses.” What I mean is that there was a lot of show-don’t-tell about her love for her son but I never really saw an actual relationship between them. However the time loop, in which she goes back a little further in time each time to solve her problem reminded me of this old Canadian show I absolutely LOVED about fifteen years ago called Being Erica which you should try and get your hands on. I don’t know why I’m drawn to time travel as a plot device so much, maybe because I think a lot about the passing of time, turning back clocks etc? But I’ve always been interested. I’m even trying to institute a time loop safe word so that we know if the other person is stuck.
Sacred Games by Vikram Chandra: Re-read. Still one of my favourite books about India. I thought I’d watch the Netflix show but it really doesn’t get the book despite being described as “accurate.” In the show Saif Ali Khan is all burly and important, in the book, Sartaj Singh is a lower inspector, not very high up in the ranks, tasked with petty things, trying to live a decent and good life even as corruption rages around him. Chandra also goes on a bunch of detours that have nothing to do with crime or gangs or Bombay even at some points which is what lends to the book’s heft. A meandering read, which of course, is my favourite kind.
The Embassy Wife by Katie Crouch: One of those books described as one part this and one part that so I will also do: one part Big Little Lies and one part White Lotus, except Embassy Wife is kinder to its characters than White Lotus is. It’s an odd pastiche of comedy/social satire and then bits of actually sad things, but even though that sounds like it wouldn’t be fun to read, I really enjoyed it, couldn’t put it down etc. Set in Namibia amongst the embassy people, it’s a good book about that sort of thing. White people trying to do good while being extremely rich in a poor country. There’s no murder, which is where my two comp titles fall apart, but there is a small plot twist which keeps you invested.
Things I Don’t Want To Know by Deborah Levy: Continuing my Deborah Levy Living Autobiography read with this, the first in the series. Liked a little less than Real Estate but parts of it were set in Soller, Mallorca, where we took a little toy train up to, so it was nice to think of her and writing as well as myself and writing.
Flowers for Mrs Harris by Paul Gallico: The movie based on this book Mrs Harris Goes To Paris is exactly the kind of twee period drama where everyone makes friends and looks out for each other that I love. Don’t judge me. Anyway, this slim novella about a London charwoman (a cleaning lady in the 50s) saving up for a Dior dress is nice and frothy, unlikely fashionista etc. A touch condescending but I was thankful it wasn’t more than that considering it was published in 1958. Gallico is the author of one of my favourite novels about cats of all time so I picked this up on that book’s recommendation at a small second hand shop in Zaragoza.
Tell Me Everything by Elizabeth Strout: Love Elizabeth Strout, LOVE her and so I was v sad that this book left me cold. It just felt so… contrived. Olive (from Olive Kitteridge) and Lucy (from My Name is Lucy Barton) and Bob (from The Burgess Boys) come together in one novel in a very Marvel Cinematic Universe way. Too many points of view and all of them sounding exactly the same.
Early Morning Riser by Katherine Heiny: I really liked the previous Katherine Heiny I read (Standard Deviation) but this one was a little too suspending of disbelief for me. Through circumstances this woman (Jane) winds up being the caretaker for an intellectually disabled man (Jimmy) in a small town where everyone knows and looks out for each other. Jane literally never has mixed feelings about Jimmy, which is what I found hard to believe. EVERYONE has mixed feelings! Therefore in picturing Jane, all I saw was a large crayon outline of a woman with GOOD PERSON written across her body. Still I like Heiny’s writing style, so I’m going to keep on reading her.
The Locked Door by Freida McFadden: The plot of this book has literally vanished from my brain which, considering I read it two weeks ago, is not a good sign? Let me quickly Google it. Oh yeah. Successful surgeon whose father was a serial killer feels like history is repeating itself as the murders repeat themselves. Middle of the road thriller for me, good to occupy self when you are very busy and distracted and on the road, but there are better books for that as well.
Remain Silent by Susie Steiner: This is the last book Susie Steiner wrote in her Detective Manon Bradshaw series (three altogether) before she died of brain cancer and it’s very sad because it’s a really good book. I mean, not just for detective fiction—it’s actually a really well written and complex story about immigration in the UK. I promptly got her first two books as well, and am reading the first one which has just as much complexity. Maybe even more poignant because there’ll never be more.
The Seven Moons of Maali Almeida by Shehan Karunatilaka: My book club (we’re doing books set around the world!) was neatly divided on this Sri Lankan Booker award winner which is super complex with experimental bits which made it hard for me to read fast (and sometimes I put off reading until there’s only two days to go) so I skimmed the end but the lovers of the book were so passionate about it that I’m going to go back and finish the middle section as well, so that’s the nice things about book clubs and persuading you to read out of your comfort zone because as you can see I have not challenged myself AT ALL this past month.
Small Things Like These by Claire Keegan: A tiny little book which got a bunch of awards and which I really loved. It takes place during Christmas and Bill… Someone is a lumber merchant? And he’s walking around his small Irish town and delivering his lumber and coal and thinking about his life. It’s really gorgeous and super slim but with hefty subjects. Reminds me of Strout at her best actually, which was not Tell Me Everything. A good book club pick if you have a book club and are looking for something quick yet meaty.
Restaurant Babylon by Imogen Edward Jones and Anonymous: Have I told you how much I like the Babylon series? Basically this writer (Edward Jones) interviews a bunch of people in a particular industry and then condenses them all into one “Anonymous” and turns a week/day in their life into this incredible “industry secret” novel. My favourites are “Hotel” and “Air” but I’ve also read “Hospital,” “Wedding,” and now “Restaurant.” So many dirty little secrets! Currently I’m re-reading Fashion, before moving on to “Pop” and “Beach” which finishes off my series, how sad.
Art I Saw
A really good show at the KW Institute of Contemporary Art which featured cool things on each floor; a laser show baby singing opera, a collection of objects tied to being an immigrant in the DDR and what happened after the state fell, a gorgeous attic sound installation where you lay about on sofas and looked through the skylight, very nice. There was one dud which is where this artist took AI and tried to make it make sounds relating to the war in Bosnia? Quite terrible. Skip that floor if you’re going.
Also went to the super buzzy “quantum physics” installation by Laure Provost, which was really vague and quite bad. I mean, there was a pretty video which you watched by lying on your back under a dome and the American gen zs next to me were like “this is so trippy man” but that was who it was designed for. Nothing to do with art or a point of view, just stuff thrown together for the space (which is incredible) and Instagram. I sometimes think a lot of visual art these days is just edgy for the sake of being edgy with no point of view, so none of this is going to be remembered in a decade. What’s the last good contemporary art show you saw that still stays with you?
That’s my month then! A bit light on the movies but I was travelling as soon as I finished my German language course and then I got back and only watched Mad Men and The Office so it can’t be helped.
Anything fun you’ve read or seen recently?
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Have a great week!
xx
m
Who are you? Meenakshi Reddy Madhavan, writer of internet words (and other things) author of eight books (support me by buying a book!) and general city-potter-er.
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Im being terribly pedantic but isn't Mangal, a Tuesday Bazaar? And a Somvar Bazaar will be a Monday Bazaar? I just went to my somvar bazaar yesterday evening where a lovely couple told me they were buying iftari as a Muslim couple had invited them and they wanted to buy samosas and pakoras for the Muslim stall holders at the bazaar. I remember walking with some oceanographers along a beach one day where they were looking at the sea weed being brought up by the waves to check whether the aqua life was "living". I think the brief but sweet encounter yesterday in times when no one wants to buy veggies from certain vendors just made me feel that maybe some bit of India is still "living".
fun way ,, telling ordinary things in an extraordinary way !