Wednesday, July 23, 2008

Just because the bookstores are stocked with shelf-loads of her books does not make Jodi Picoult the auto queen of novels. Yes, credits to her for sweeping the world by storm with her critically-acclaimed book My Sister's Keeper. Kudos too, for her hard work in producing a total of 15 books in 16 years. But the surging wave of raving reviews has got to stop at some point in time, and with The Tenth Circle, that time has come.

The Tenth Circle is about a father's determination to leave a dark past behind; his over-protective nature towards his daughter; his devoted love for his wife. The book follows the life of his teenage daughter and her quest for adventure, excitement, truth, and puppy love. It zooms in on the temptations of a mother and how she throws away everything she had ever loved, in a moment of weakness.

To be fair, the first half of the book was captivating and Picoult's distinct story-telling abilities shone through - the very reason why I love her books in the first place. Without fail, she always manages to bring her characters to life, as if I had known them personally. It amazes me how she so accurately and instinctively portrays every thought and feeling to make it relatable for her readers (which at the same time also makes me wonder if all of us are essentially the same in thought and deed after all). I love how she introduces a novelty into her novels. This time round, each chapter is intercepted with a series of comic strips - a witty illustration of her intent and the clever intertwine of the drawings' relevance to the story.

By the mid-point of the book, however, I drew weary and felt my interest seeping away slowly. The climax of the story was abruptly lost. The death of a leading character, the missing emphasis on others, and the lack of focus in the plot all snowballed into one big mass of disappointment. It was as if Picoult had had a tiff with the characters and decided to go on a writers' strike. The ending too, was predictable, boring, and cheesy to a certain extent. It lacked the Oomph factor which resonated with her other books.

She did manage to correctly pin down a small defective quality within us though: How sometimes, it's less painful to believe what we choose to believe, than to know the truth and face the discomforts that would come along with it. We've all had our fair shares of turning away to avoid seeing something we didn't want to see. We've all had, at some point, chosen to not confront the truth so that things could remain the way they are. Quintessentially, Picoult had captured that clearly, and perhaps, offers us an opportunity to relook at those decisions in our own lives.

Do not expect The Tenth Circle to blow your literary mind. But if you're looking for a pastime read, this may work. Who knows, you may get more out of it than I did.