After four seasons

Stupid Cupid (Penguin, Rs 199) by Mamang Dai might seem a bit of a disappointment when contrasted with The Legends of Pensam, Dai’s dark and lyrical first novel. From the hills of the Northeast, Dai transports us in this book to the dust and grime of Delhi. But the characters who populate this novella carry the hills in their hearts, and keep searching for that green shade in the midst of the city. Adna opens a guest house, Four Seasons, in Delhi to “promote love”. Everything goes well for a while till Cupid strikes, with his kin, Death, in tow. But Cupid grants here the request made by Connie Francis in her famous song that shares its name with the book’s title. He sets Adna free — “And that was how that season of love ended and we scattered like beads.” Although it lacks the exceptional beauty of The Legends of Pensam, Stupid Cupid has a quiet, melancholy charm of its own that is unusual nonetheless.

Blabla: Something to Talk about When You have Nothing Else to Say (Etch, Rs 175) compiles a series of weird facts, which are supposed to come in handy in those embarrassing moments when your stock of conversation runs dry. Sample these: “During an ordinary day, your hand will indirectly come in contact with 15 penises”, “Venus, the second planet in our solar system, rotates in the opposite direction of the other eight planets” or “Why don’t sheep shrink when it rains?” As the last question will make clear, the editors themselves were probably running short of ‘facts’ when they neared the book’s end. While some statements are funny, most are asinine. Add to this the frequent typos and ill-constructed sentences (“Did you think “big Ben” is a tower or a clock face? Well, both are guesses wrong”), and you would rather read the vernacular versions of a book like this sold in local trains than trudge through this one.

Live Happily, Work Happily (Allied, Rs 195) by Siddhartha Ganguli provides “a window to the science of happy living and working.” Ganguli obviously believes that happiness is a psychosomatic condition because besides giving advice on stress management, he also provides tips to keep the body healthy. Ganguli approaches his subject with a thoroughness which indicates that he is serious about alleviating the misery of the depressed. Once you get to know every little detail of the body’s functioning — from the “external foes that invade our brain”, to the chemistry of the “winning smile” — you will no doubt be ready to take on the challenges of domestic life and those of the workplace.

The Puffin Book of Spooky Ghost Stories (Puffin, Rs 199) comes with an introduction by Jerry Pinto. The opening story, “Saritha Kamakshi Makes a Mistake”, also by Pinto, is one of the best. The better stories in this collection produce terror, which is psychological, rather than just physical horror. “The Swing” by Deepa Agarwal, and “Fritz” by Satyajit Ray do send a cold shiver down the spine. Even ordinary objects such as a swing or a doll begin to appear uncanny once you have read these tales. The stories by Ranjit Lal, Subhadra Sen Gupta and, of course, by the redoubtable Ruskin Bond, are eerie and humourous. The rest are not so good. “B-u-r-r-r-p” by Anita Vachharajani and “Virus Here” by Payal Dhar are quite daft, being neither horrifying nor funny.

Flesh House (Harper, Rs 250) by Stuart Macbride is filled with as much gore as you can possibly endure. The serial killer it deals with carves up human bodies and substitutes the meat for animal flesh in a chain of retail shops and supermarkets in the UK. Although the mystery is riveting up to a point, it loses steam after following a false lead for the greater part of the book. The ending is botched up, and so, deeply unsatisfactory.