[.ca] Calcutta Chromosome: A Novel of Fevers, Delirium and ... (ISBN 0676970230)

Slow starting, interesting mystery with a disapointing end:
\o...\cThere was a lilting rhythm to this book that had a familiar resonation. The turn of the phrase, the dialog, the manner of story telling was very reminiscent of The Moors Last Sigh by Salman Rushdie a book I have read but not reviewed here yet. I don't want to make broad sweeping stereotypes regarding the an Indian style, but I will at the minimum note in passing a similarity between this and the one book I have read by Rushdie. Having said that I found this in the end an unsatisfying book. It was a book of many things, science fiction, a medical history of malaria, and a spiritual explanation of transmigration of the soul. I found it a bit slow in starting up, once going my interest was peaked regarding the mystery of the discovery of malaria and the hidden truth behind it, however my main disappointment was that the resolution to the mystery and the ending itself were poorly wrought. Barely even explained, unclearly described I was left scratching my head with a "huh?" I don't know if I would recommend this book, I would state the caveats and let you make your own choice.

Overstuffed Fare:
This whirling mix of science fiction, medical thriller, satire, historical fiction, and supernatural is both dazzling and ultimately disappointingly confusing. Indeed, it's one of the few books I've come across that essentially requires two readings to approach comprehension. Like myself, the average reader is likely to enjoy the compelling atmosphere and swerving plot Ghosh serves up-but not enough to go back a second time to decipher exactly what was going on throughout it all. Especially after an altogether infuriating ending that has one checking to make sure the last 20 pages didn't fall out of the book! The story is so convoluted that summarizing it is tricky at best. We start in Manhattan of the not too distant future, where computers sort through endless data streams, requiring human attention only when something does not compute. Through a clue generated by his terminal, a computer technician gets immersed in the mysterious disappearance of an Indian colleague of his in Calcutta back in 1995. The Indian vanished while on trying to track down the truth behind Ronald Ross's discovery of the cure for malaria back in 1902. It seems the real-life Ross wasn't trained in medicine, yet his independent research led to a Nobel prize. Ghosh offers the explanation of shadowy cabal who seek to use the malaria virus in their schemes to transfer personality and thus gain immortality. It's a neat concept but becomes unnecessarily complicated and ultimately lost in the mishmash of subtexts on identity, empire, and culture-not to mention the labyrinthine structure of the telling. To Ghosh's credit, the descriptions of rundown future Manhattan, the teeming life of contemporary Calcutta, and turn of the century colonial India are all first rate. It's just a shame that the complicated narrative, with multiple time frames and flashbacks never manages to coalesce into a worthwhile payoff.

Nicely written, pointless story:
I read this book on a plane flight from India to the US. The story moves forward briskly and held my interest, so I'd definitely recommend the book to anyone who likes mysteries, the supernatural, or "India-ana" (I'm less sure that science fiction fans would like it). At the same time, the subplots get very tangled, and some sections have no clear point (the "ghost train" chapter is truly creepy but doesn't have any connection to the storyline). Even worse, no character except Murugan is well-developed, and the story seemed more and more implausible (almost ludicrous) as it unfolded -- leaving me disinclined to read the book a second time. Maybe I like things too neat and tidy, but I think Ghosh needed to flesh out the details of the conspiracy and do a much better job of developing the idea of soul transmigration via malarial infection.

I do not understnd the end:
I loved the images the book evoked .I loved reading about the British in India and how they would behave and use euphemisms about the natives its so like how my mother and father would describe their experiences with the English in Malaysia. He writes very well ,he has a delicious sense of humour especially Murugan (call me Morgan) but although I understand the premise the end totally stumped me.I just cannot understand why he would end the book the way he did . I can accept some of the chromosome theory he tried to explain and the extraordinary coincidences with Lutchman and all that but why he chose to end it so weak is why I give it two stars.

An fun book with some frustrating flaws:
The Calcutta Chromosome was fun, and I don't at all regret buying the book. I enjoyed the twisty, wandering, plot and its labyrinthine internal connections. I enjoyed the scenery, both the futuristic New York and its wonderful evocation of Calcutta. I liked many of the characters and enjoyed their encounters and dilemmas. I enjoyed the bits of medical history. I enjoyed much of the language. I REALLY enjoyed reading a book where, for once, I did not have to wince at words misused or misspelled. However, for all the blurb evocations, this is no Borges, nor Pynchon. I see why the comparisons were drawn, but there are some major plot and even ... call them philosophical... flaws that drag The Calcutta Chromosome back from a really good book to a fun read on the 'plane. Basically, there is a vast and bizarre conspiracy, which, while entertaining, is founded on mushy, ill thought-out motives. There is an attempt to evoke an east/west - mysticism/logic thing, but it collapses under its own inconsistencies to reveal a balding plot device wearing a toupee of picturesque Oriental mystics. Finally, there is quite a bit of pseudo-scientific and technological hand waving. This will bother some more than others. The point that technology can be like magic is relevant, and in places I can forgive the more nonsensical bits as contributing to a good story. There are other incidents, particularly the absurdly retrieved e-mail, which could have been tied into other themes in the story but weren't. Instead, I was left with the impression that Ghosh wrote himself into a bit of a corner and couldn't be bothered to take some more plausible method of getting himself out. Sit back, fit together the edge pieces of the jigsaw puzzle, admire the pretty picture, and try not to be disappointed if you find a few of the middle pieces missing.