But it disappointed me, in a weird, guilty way. Here's my guilty secret: I am (was) writing what I hoped would be (eventually) a book. And why am I disappointed? Because, oh, there are so many things similar between eM's book and the one I was (am?) writing!
- The protagonist is a young (twentyish), single working woman living in Delhi (though mine might be living in Gurgaon - I haven't quite figured that out) with a roommate.
- There is a great male friend, with some more-than-friends moments.
- The heroine has a single mother.
- The heroine figures out one relationship better after having a physically intimate moment (though I don't think mine would have gone as far as sex - I guess both my heroine and me are too squeamish).
- The novel ends on an optimistic note at a friend's wedding.
Yeah, I'd figured out the end, even though I'm not halfway through the book and haven't figured out all of the twists yet. But that is too much of a coincidence, is it now? I'm depressed now, and wondering if it's any point going through it at all. (Though I probably will, if only for my own satisfaction.)
But then, eM probably did it much better than I could.