Shantaram

Violent, philosophical, unlawful, heartbreaking, bloody, and absolutely beautiful.

Those words describe Shantaram, a book by (and about) Gregory David Roberts.

I don't often feel compelled to write about what I read. I tend to stick to "reading for fun" books involving kooky main characters and lilting plots. However, Robert's book drew me in so completely I feel the need to share the experience somehow.

I don't want necessarily to talk about the story of the book. I believe someone really must read the book in its entirely to fully comprehend the power of the words. But it is NOT a book for the fainthearted. It's huge and full of an amazing mix of violence and philosophy.

I will say this: Roberts is a criminal in the book. Yet...and yet...he is eloquent and strangely insiteful about human nature and his own heart and mind. He sees ...the beauty of this complicated, messy thing called humankind.

I know I don't have the words to describe more. I've never been one much for a good "descriptive" essay.

Shantaram is simply so poetic I feel compelled to write about MY feelings for it.

But, the novel is so much more than the sum of it's parts. Pull it apart and you'd have a story of an escaped convict, slum fires, Bombay heat, and a myriad of people...so much more. Put it together, and it's like a river full of currents both fast and slow, both hurtful and helpful and forever intertwined with all the waters of the world through its own ebb and flow.