A couple of weeks, before the turn came, when I could read it. A brief sub 200 pages, reasonably crisp writing, not entirely fiction but a marriage of personal and fiction.
We all have that buddy/friend/yaar in school/college whom we love and hate with equal passion and then manage to lose touch with for a variety of reasons – primary being, who will call first.
Here it seems to be Mr. Bhagath modelled after Chetan Bhagat who seems to have taken the role.
The book begins well, with parts of college, ragging and how the combined forces overcame that before moving on, with the author working for a firm where he writes brilliant reports & is egged on by his hot, sexy boss to write a book – so conveyed that consulting reports are fictional and you should not pay so much.
Then the interesting part of the journey as an author, who bets everything and in desperation also gets conned by everyone around to publish and publicise his book.
I liked it till here and would have loved it to end here, showing that there is nothing to prove and it is all right to go back and work, if a dream has failed, making you stronger.
But it rolls on to a convoluted happy ending with Bhagath being the saviour and future of books, which somehow did not work for me.
One time read, you can feel the pain of disciplined writing, being able to dream but being let down and conned because of that dream. The good it did for me – all my thoughts/dreams of writing any kind of book have now been thrashed.