What’s with the writing scene in India? If Singh’s ‘Can Love Happen Twice’ was the worst written book I read in a long time, this one is the most insipid. Zoya returns from London to Delhi for a friends’ reunion and shows us how the hi-society life in Delhi works. But that’s it. There is practically no story. Exaggerated (and sometimes not so exaggerated) description of the life styles of the rich and famous don’t quite add to a novel. The writing is cliché ridden – though not so bad as Singh – but there are many repetitions of the same phrases over the entire length of the book. By the time I ended, I was sick of LV, Gucci and Jimmy Choo. The climax is perhaps the worst part. First, the readers are told about why Reema is the bitch she is – which doesn’t shock the reader (thought it seems to shock the writer alright) and secondly, everything gets resolved in the last three pages. There is so much telling (as opposed to showing) that the book seems like a description of each character’s feelings poured in inappropriate words.
Recommendation: Don’t even think of it.