The God of Small Things (by Arundhati Roy)

I got this book on the collective recommendation of my book club. (I joined fairly recently, circa Carter Beats the Devil, and as you can see, they read a lot of books before that, some of which I've read, most of which I haven't.) "Just go read it!" said the book group. Without warning me that it's basically "in how many horrible, tragic ways can someone's life be ruined? Let's find out!" I had to sit in my car and cry for ten minutes when this book was over.

It is, however, a beautiful book, if you don't mind a little tragedy. The writing is inventive and rich, the descriptions are vivid and haunting, the word choices are perfect and playful. It deserves all the praise it got; it's one of those books that flabbergast you. How could anyone write it?