I
had a mixed reaction to this book: I really enjoyed the first part,
but I found the second part sluggish and slow. The author's attempt
to not only give a light-hearted and, at times, horrifying picture of
Indian culture
and lifestyle but also to give an insight into the many different
religious beliefs practised in that country deserves a large amount
of praise.
Although Holy
Cow
is written by a non-Indian, many of Sarah Macdonald's observations
are the same or similar to observations made by the Indian writers
Rohinton Mistry (A
Fine Balance
)
and Aravind Adiga (The
White Tiger),
and are not, as some have complained, the
result of an outsider summing up Indian
society
from the perspective of a more progressive and successful culture.
Macdonald's humour is not
at the expense of India and its people but is, to
a very great degree, the self-deprecating humour of the average
Australian.
Sarah,
a journalist (who has taken time off from work)
is in India with her fiancé who is working as a foreign reporter for
the
ABC. After
the shock
of having to absorb a very different culture, a
near-death experience with pneumonia and the ongoing
loneliness
of being separated from her fiancé who
spends most of his time on missions
outside of India, she begins to investigate India's religious
heritage.
Initially,
these
investigations
are
simply part of the story she is telling, and
information about different religions creeps in as part of something
else she is relating; the integrity of the actual story is retained.
Halfway through the book, Sarah and her
fiancé
briefly
return to Australia where they are married. Back in New
Delhi Sarah takes the conscious step of following up all religions in
India, and from this point the novel moves into the realm of
the documentary.
Like
India itself with its millions of people, impressions, smells and
experiences, the information about the various religions is
psychedelic
with so much happening that it is, at times, difficult to hold on to
any kind of central thread. Many incidental people are introduced –
some disappear after a few pages, others re-emerge
pages
further on
by which time the connections between that particular person and the
story are forgotten. I
found that I kept checking to see how many pages I had left to read;
I was thrown between genuine
interest and definite boredom.
In
spite of my disappointment with the second part of the book, I could
imagine rereading it, mainly as a general introduction to India's
many religions. Reading it from such a perspective could, I feel, be
a rewarding experience for most people.