Writing is all about knowing when to stop.
That applies to writers themselves too—they should know when to quit.
2025, Week 27
I read two books on Storytel this week: Bheemachan by N.S. Madhavan and Ambilimol Thirodhanam by G.R. Indugopan. And honestly—are these even books? One reads like an extended short story, the other like an unsold film script.
N.S. Madhavan is an accomplished writer—he’s given us gems like Kapithaninte Makal. But Bheemachan has all the usual ingredients of a certain type of Malayalam story: the kind that looks to the past, as if contemporary life is too dull to write about. I have no qualms about nostalgia, but here, every trope is on full display. What ruins it is the ending—the metaphor lands with a thud. It was almost laughable. It reminded me of Mukundan’s Choi novels. This is exactly why M.T. Vasudevan Nair remains a standout—he knew when the well had run dry, and he stopped. Lesser writers rarely realize this. That’s why the likes of Chullikkad and Sachidanandan are still churning out poems.
As for Indugopan—after the pivotal scenes in Aano, which I genuinely liked, he turns around and writes Ambilimol, which feels like a rejected screenplay. This kind of cinematic writing—thin on texture, thick with plot mechanics—is something I find hard to enjoy. Still, it was a quick listen, so I went with it. It’s mediocre, filled with convenient turns and generic dialogue. The only redeeming quality is the pace—he doesn’t linger or indulge. But there’s a lot of lazy “show and tell” too. I don’t know if this is a new work, but coming after Aano, it’s a real letdown.
The surprise of the week was Writers and Lovers by Lily King. Now this is a solid mid-level novel—a page-turner, but with a bit of emotional weight. This is what Sally Rooney is usually trying to do (and mostly failing). If you’ve read Colm Tóibín’s Long Island, you’ll know the type: quiet drama, well observed, deceptively simple. Lily King pulls it off. I rarely buy books like this in paperback, but I placed an order for hers today.
Elsewhere, Proust and Gass continue—slow, steady, and still holding up.
I felt different(2 stars) with aano by G. R. and surprised by the award.
Dissappointing reading/audio was K. R. Meera’s Ellavidha Pranayavum.
Jameela was not on any expectations, so neither disappointed nor surprised
Thanks. I agree on Meera every single time, she is mediocre. Dont wanna try Jameela. Aano, perhaps we can discuss.