Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow, Gabrielle Zevin, 2022

Rating: 5/5

MORE THAN A GAME

Friendship, love, ambition, heartbreak and redemption are hardly novel premises for a book. Yet Gabrielle Zevin manages to make them fresh and interesting by setting her story against the backdrop of the video gaming industry. Zevin describes herself as a “lifelong gamer”, and her familiarity with the subject is evident in the way she brings the world of game development alive, from the creative process to the business and technical aspects. However, she never allows this detailing to get in the way of the story or make it inaccessible to readers who know little about gaming. At its heart, this is a deeply human story about relationships, and the gaming world provides a wonderfully unusual setting for it.

The story revolves around three characters – Sam, Sadie and Marx. Sam is intelligent, introspective and often difficult to understand, carrying the physical and emotional scars of an accident that has shaped much of his life. Sadie is fiercely creative, ambitious and independent, but also complicated. Their relationship is the central thread of the book, moving between friendship, professional collaboration and something that neither quite knows how to define. Marx is the more easy-going and emotionally balanced of the three, often providing the glue that holds them together. Their individual journeys and the changing dynamics between them make for a fascinating portrayal of friendship over several decades.

Zevin is an engaging storyteller, with an easy writing style that makes the book extremely readable. She moves effortlessly across the different phases of the protagonists’ lives, while bringing the fictional games to life with considerable imagination. The narrative is also refreshingly inventive, particularly towards the end, when a sort of redemption arc unfolds through the lens of an MMORPG (Massively Multiplayer Online Role-Playing Game).

The title is drawn from Macbeth's famous soliloquy, which describes life as a brief and ultimately meaningless passage towards death. I found the choice somewhat puzzling, given that the novel, despite its spectrum of emotions, is ultimately much more hopeful – the idea of starting again and having another opportunity to make things right, as in video games, runs through the book. Nevertheless, an unusual subject, complex characters and some wonderful storytelling make this a thoroughly satisfying read.

Pros: Original setting, memorable characters, inventive storytelling

Cons: The Sam-Sadie dynamics can be weary at times

London Falling, Patrick Radden Keefe, 2026

Rating: 5/5

ORDINARY STORY BUT EXTRAORDINARY TELLING

Patrick Radden Keefe’s “London Falling” begins with the mysterious death of 19-year-old Zac Brettler, who was found in the River Thames after falling from a luxury apartment block in London in 2019. Zac came from a well-to-do Jewish family, but had been leading a secret life as the book soon reveals. The circumstances surrounding Zac’s death were never satisfactorily explained and the police investigation left many unanswered questions. With the permission and cooperation of Zac’s parents, Rachelle and Matthew Brettler, Keefe spent several years investigating what had happened to their son, writing first about the case for The New Yorker, and subsequently, publishing this book. The result is a combination of true crime, family tragedy and investigative journalism.

The most impressive aspect of the book is the sheer extent of Keefe’s research. He goes through police records, phone messages, CCTV footage, financial records and location data, while also reconstructing the backgrounds of the principal characters and interviewing people connected to them. Along with the parents’ own detailed investigation, the book helps piece together a picture of what may have happened on the night Zac died. More importantly, Keefe’s involvement brought renewed public attention to a case that might otherwise have remained largely unknown. It offers some conclusive insights in what really transpired and for Zac’s parents, who had spent years trying to understand what had happened to their son, this may have brought at least some measure of closure.

Keefe also tries to make the book a commentary on London today – a city where vast amounts of international wealth coexist with organised crime, dubious businessmen and authorities that either turn a blind eye or simply seem remarkably incompetent. But I am not entirely convinced by this aspect of the book. The problem is that the foundation for this commentary is Zac’s story, which, stripped of its unusual characters and circumstances, is ultimately a rather ordinary and inconsequential one. A troubled young man invents an elaborate fantasy about wealth and status, gets involved with the wrong people and ends up dead. It is a tragedy, certainly, but it doesn't necessarily tell us much about London or the state of modern society.

I must admit that while picking up the book, and even during the early chapters, I wondered what all the fuss was about. It is an interesting story, but hardly an extraordinary one. What Keefe does brilliantly, however, is turn it into a deeply human story, particularly through the perspective of Zac’s parents and their determination to understand what happened to their son. And then there is Keefe’s writing. He has this ability to take mountains of investigative material and make it read like a page-turning thriller. The book may not live up to the larger significance Keefe tries to attach to it, but as an easy, engrossing and well-written read, it is hard to fault.

Pros: extensive research, page-turning narrative, human interest story

Cons: Unconvincing larger thesis

Table for Two, Amor Towles, 2024

Rating: 5/5

A TABLE FULL OF DELIGHTS

Amor Towles has produced another wonderfully entertaining book with Table for Two, a collection of six short stories followed by the novella Eve in Hollywood, a sequel of sorts to his earlier novel, Rules of Civility. The six stories are set mostly in New York, while the novella takes us to 1930s Hollywood. It brings back Eve Ross and follows the new life she creates after leaving New York. Apparently, Towles originally wrote six linked stories about Eve before expanding them into this novella.

The breadth of these stories is remarkable and good evidence of Towles' imagination. “The Line” takes us to communist Moscow in the 1920s in a feel-good story about simplicity, patience and a good nature. “The Ballad of Timothy Touchett” is an amusing tale of a lazy writer whose lack of experience becomes an increasingly untenable excuse. “Hasta Luego” turns a cancelled flight into an unlikely human connection, while “I Will Survive” explores the complications of a second marriage. “The Bootlegger” begins with an annoyance at a Carnegie Hall concert and becomes something much more poignant. “The DiDomenico Fragment” turns an absurd inheritance into a meditation on art, money and family. Finally, Eve in Hollywood is a noirish tale of Hollywood, blackmail and reinvention. I’m sure every reader will have a favourite. While I find it difficult to choose one, I found “Hasta Luego” pointless and didn’t agree with the conclusion of “I Will Survive”.

Towles can make each story a page-turning drama, with twists and turns that keep you wanting to know what happens next. At the same time, every word, phrase and sentence seems to have been polished until it becomes a treat in itself. His descriptions, observations, humour and choice of words make even the smallest details worth lingering over. You want to race ahead to discover how the story ends, but also slow down and savour the writing. Consequently, each story deserves to be read twice – once for the story and once for the writing.

In “Table for Two”, whether writing about Moscow, New York or Hollywood, about books, art, marriage, music or chance encounters, Towles retains the wit, elegance and humanity that make his novels so enjoyable. This is a book to savour rather than simply finish, and easily one of my favourite  recent reads.

Pros: Wonderful writing, incredible variety, page-turning stories, memorable characters

Cons: None really

Apple in China, Patrick McGee, 2025

Rating: 5/5

CORPORATE HISTORY MEETS GEOPOLITICAL WARNING

Most books about Apple celebrate its products, its design philosophy or the genius of Steve Jobs. Patrick McGee takes a different approach. He argues that Apple's greatest achievement was actually building the most sophisticated manufacturing ecosystem the world has ever seen, and that this very success may have fundamentally altered the balance of technological power between the United States and China. Apple did not just move production to China – it helped build the industrial system that made China a manufacturing superpower. Apple in China is a meticulously reported account that combines corporate history, supply-chain strategy and international politics into a narrative that is both gripping and, for the most part, a page-turner.

The book begins with Apple in the late 1990s, on the verge of bankruptcy and desperately searching for manufacturers capable of producing increasingly ambitious products. What follows is the gradual migration of Apple's manufacturing expertise, from Japan and Taiwan to mainland China, driven initially by lower labour costs but eventually by China's unmatched ability to scale production at breathtaking speed. McGee demonstrates that Apple did not merely outsource assembly – it trained suppliers, transferred manufacturing know-how and financed advanced production processes. While Apple believed it was simply creating an efficient supply chain, it was also helping build the capabilities that would eventually underpin China's modern electronics industry. By the end, China had become indispensable to Apple.

McGee also reveals a wealth of surprising details that rarely feature in Apple's carefully cultivated story. For example, Apple reportedly pledged to invest $275 billion in China over a five-year period to appease the Chinese authorities – not in factories it owned, but through supplier investments, training and manufacturing support. McGee argues that this commitment dwarfed even the Marshall Plan (the US programme to rebuild 16 European countries after World War II) in inflation-adjusted terms.

Ultimately, Apple in China is all about unintended consequences. While McGee is extremely critical of Apple throughout the book and even questions Tim Cook's legacy, he never suggests that Apple consciously set out to strengthen China or weaken America's industrial position. Instead, he argues that countless rational business decisions accumulated into an extraordinary strategic vulnerability. Whether one fully accepts that thesis or not (and some of the arguments do feel like a stretch), the evidence he assembles is difficult to ignore. This is an exceptionally well-researched and thought-provoking book that changes the way one thinks about globalisation, manufacturing and the hidden machinery behind every iPhone.

Pros: Exceptionally researched, packed with fascinating insights into Apple's supply chain, an insider’s look at key policy decisions made by Apple

Cons: McGee is occasionally too critical of Apple, some geopolitical conclusions feel extreme

Demon Copperhead, Barbara Kingsolver, 2022

 

Rating: 5/5

This is the second retelling of a classic that I’ve read in about a year, the first being James by Percival Everett. When I first picked up both books, I did so with a fair amount of scepticism. Retellings often feel like clever literary exercises rather than fully realised novels in their own right. Would revisiting familiar narratives really produce anything fresh or meaningful? In both cases, happily, my doubts proved unfounded. Much like James, Demon Copperhead turned out to be a deeply engaging and rewarding read. Kingsolver takes the broad scaffolding of Dickens’s David Copperfield and relocates it to the modern American South, amidst the opioid crisis crafting a story that feels both recognisably Dickensian and unmistakably contemporary.

One of the novel’s greatest strengths lies in its writing, particularly the voice of its narrator. Demon’s first-person perspective is vivid, sharp, and emotionally immediate. The result is a voice that carries both humour and pain in equal measure. Through Demon’s eyes, we see a world shaped by poverty, addiction, and neglect, yet the story never sinks into despair. Kingsolver also excels at character work, with each person in the supporting cast each person shaped by their own circumstances and compromises. Equally striking is how the novel transforms Dickens’s nineteenth-century concerns into modern equivalents. The hardships of Victorian England become the crises of contemporary rural America, particularly the devastating reach of opioid addiction. 

That said, the book is not without its minor shortcomings. At times the plot follows the contours of David Copperfield closely enough that attentive readers may anticipate certain developments before they occur. This structural loyalty can reduce the sense of narrative surprise. The novel’s length may also feel slightly indulgent in places. These are small quibbles rather than major flaws, however.

Thinking back to James, I ultimately found Everett’s novel the more inventive of the two. By retelling The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn from Jim’s perspective and introducing entirely new elements, Everett created a work that felt less like a reinterpretation and more like a bold reimagining. Demon Copperhead, in contrast, stays closer to its Dickensian blueprint. Yet this faithfulness does not diminish its achievement, and the strength of the storytelling easily earns the book a five-star rating.

Pros: Beautifully crafted narrative voice, rich characterisation, emotionally powerful themes of resilience and survival, and a thoughtful modern reworking of Dickens’s story.

Cons: Predictable moments for readers familiar with David Copperfield

Starter Villain, John Scalzi, 2023

Rating: 5/5

Starter Villain is my first John Scalzi book and it turned out to be a gleefully unhinged outing. On the face of it, the story is about Charlie Fitzer, a divorced substitute teacher scraping by, who suddenly finds himself the unexpected heir to his estranged uncle’s empire. Only, this empire doesn’t involve businesses or stocks or real estate—it involves lairs, minions, and a seat at the table of the world’s supervillains. From there, the plot barrels forward, embracing every madcap possibility it can conjure, all the while keeping the reader hooked with a blend of dry wit and satire.

To call the book a madcap ride would almost undersell it. There’s a point where the protagonist sums up his predicament: “Instead I’m here on an island in the Caribbean, being told I need to talk to the dolphins in the middle of a labor action about some whales that might have torpedoes, armed by a secret society of villains who want access to a storeroom full of objects probably looted from the victims of the friggin’ Nazis and who are maybe willing to blow up my volcano lair to get it.” That single sentence works as a synopsis of the book’s spirit.

The novel also carries a sly undercurrent of satire. Beneath the jokes is a commentary on modern greed, corporate hierarchies, and the absurd lengths humans will go for power. Scalzi makes sure the barbs land even as you’re laughing. Yes, it’s lightweight in parts, but it feels intentional – Scalzi isn’t trying to write a grim epic, but a sparkling, escapist caper. If you are looking for a book that sets out to entertain above all else, this one does the job.

Pros: Madcap imagination, witty, sharp humour

Cons: Some readers may find this silly

Sea of Tranquility, Emily St. John Mandel, 2022

Rating: 5/5

What struck me the most after finishing Sea of Tranquility was how much it covered in just 200 pages — spanning centuries, multiple storylines, and several themes — without ever feeling rushed or overly complex. Despite its brevity, the novel takes its time with each of its main characters, immersing the reader in their lives making their journeys feel intimate.

It is difficult to write about the book’s premise without spoiling it for readers. Suffice to say, Sea of Tranquility is a beautifully written novel that blends science fiction with human themes. The book follows multiple characters across different timelines. In 1912, Edwin St. Andrew, a young English aristocrat, is banished to Canada and stumbles upon a mysterious anomaly in the forest. In the 2200s, Olive Llewellyn, a bestselling author from a lunar colony, embarks on an Earth book tour, unaware of the eerie parallels between her novel and reality. In 2401, Gaspery-Jacques Roberts, a detective from the Night City on the Moon, is assigned to investigate a strange pattern in time that links these characters. Mandel moves fluidly between the various narratives, keeping the story brisk yet immersive, allowing readers to absorb its multiple layers without feeling overwhelmed. The novel ends satisfyingly, tying the threads of its intricate plot together — a feat that is often difficult in stories of this genre.

The book’s structure reminded me somewhat of Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell, another book that I love. Like that book, Sea of Tranquility weaves together multiple timelines and perspectives, exploring the interconnectedness of human lives across centuries. However, Cloud Atlas leans more heavily on stylistic shifts between its narratives, whereas Sea of Tranquility maintains a more uniform tone. Readers who appreciate the philosophical underpinnings of Cloud Atlas but prefer a more straightforward, emotionally resonant narrative with a dash of science fiction will likely find Sea of Tranquility particularly compelling.

Pros: Elegant writing, interesting themes, easily devoured in one sitting

Cons: Light on the sci-fi mechanics

James, Percival Everett, 2024

Rating: 5/5

Percival Everett's *James* initially gave me pause. Could an adaptation of Mark Twain's "The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn" offer anything significantly different? I approached it with skepticism. To my surprise, Everett delivers something extraordinary—a thought-provoking exploration that retains Twain's spirit while carving out its own unique identity.

James unfolds through the perspective of Jim, and by shifting the narrative to Jim's perspective, Everett deepens our understanding of his inner world, offering a more intimate and complex portrayal than Twain's original. The story introduces compelling new characters, including Daniel Emmett and Norman, whose roles enrich the drama. Emmett, a historical 19th-century minstrel and composer with a complex relationship to slavery, appears early through his songbook—a choice whose significance becomes clear midway through the novel.

Everett masterfully employs two distinct linguistic styles to reflect the complexities of enslaved people's lives. One mimics the way racist white society expected them to speak—a simplified, subservient tone used as a survival shield. As Jim reflects: "The remarkable truth, however, was that it was not the pistol, but my language, the fact that I didn't conform to his expectations, that I could read, that had so disturbed and frightened him." The prose then shifts to a more reflective and nuanced style, highlighting the book's duality: a carefully controlled exterior masking profound truths beneath.

The only notable issue for me lies in the final third's series of convenient coincidences. These unlikely events feel forced and somewhat diminish the emotional impact. Nevertheless, *James* remains a truly lovely read. The depth of its characters, the emotional weight of its themes, and the beauty of its prose outweigh any minor flaws.

Pros: Inventive reimagining of a classic story, rich character development, emotionally resonant themes of survival and identity, and thought-provoking prose

Cons: A series of convenient coincidences in the latter third that occasionally stretch believability

The Last Murder at the End of the World, Stuart Turton, 2024

Rating: 5/5 

Stuart Turton's willingness to reinvent his approach with each book is bold and compelling—one of the reasons I eagerly anticipate his every release. His earlier works, The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle and The Devil and the Dark Water, showcased his range: the first a whodunit with a Groundhog Day-like twist, the second a dark tale of superstition and conspiracy aboard a 17th-century ship. Now he ventures into new territory with a sci-fi apocalypse whodunit, as the title aptly suggests.

Set in a post-apocalyptic future, The Last Murder at the End of the World unfolds on a small Greek island where a deadly fog has decimated humanity. The survivors—122 villagers and three scientists—live under strict rules enforced by an AI voice embedded in their consciousness. When a murder occurs, the islanders must solve the crime before their protective systems fail and the fog consumes them all. As time runs out, the story weaves a gripping tale of survival, community, and hidden truths in a world on the brink of oblivion.

The book's greatest strength, as with Turton's previous works, is its seamless blend of genres. He masterfully combines a classic locked-room mystery with a post-apocalyptic setting and speculative science fiction, creating something remarkably fresh. However, the book's ambitious scope, paired with its relatively short length, occasionally leads to superficial treatment of certain elements. This is particularly evident in the whodunit aspect—the numerous subplots make it challenging to remain invested in the murder mystery. Yet Turton's skilled world-building and talent for crafting intricate puzzles make the story captivating from beginning to end.

Pros: Inventive genre-blending, unique world-building, and an engrossing plot.

Cons: An underdeveloped whodunit element

The Body, Bill Bryson, 2008

Rating: 5/5

This is probably going to be my shortest book review ever! This book is simply a collection of facts, largely fun facts, about different parts of the body — the skin, hair, brain, head, the mouth, and so on. Bryson has achieved two remarkable things: (1) he has created a 400-page encyclopedia of the human body, and (2) he has made this the most fun-to-read encyclopedia ever.

Since there is nothing much to review really, here are my top 10 fun facts from the book.

(1) The human body is essentially a collection of inert elements — the same as in a pile of dirt.

(2) The Royal Society of Chemistry calculated that assembling actor Benedict Cumberbatch from his basic chemical components would cost £96,546.79.

(3) Race is merely a sliver of epidermis about a millimeter thick.

(4) If flattened out, our lungs would cover a tennis court; our blood vessels, if laid end to end, would wrap around Earth 2.5 times; and our DNA, if stretched out, would extend beyond Pluto.

(5) We grow 8 meters of hair in our lifetime.

(6) Visual inputs take one-fifth of a second to process, so the brain continuously forecasts what the world will look like a fifth of a second ahead — we spend our entire lives living in a world that doesn't quite exist yet.

(7) Volume doubles approximately every 6 decibels, meaning a 96-decibel sound isn't just slightly louder than a 90-decibel sound — it's twice as loud.

(8) Although everyone reads and pronounces the last blood group as the letter "O," Landsteiner (who discovered blood types) actually meant it to be zero, since this type showed no clumping reaction.

(9) During a single day of breathing, you likely inhale at least one molecule that was once exhaled by every person who has ever lived.

(10) While studying specimens, Henking noticed one chromosome that always remained separate from the others. He named it "X" simply because it was mysterious, not because of its shape.

Pros: Lots of interesting facts about the human body, comprehensive yet concise

Cons: It's just a collection of interesting facts about the human body!

Babel, R F Kuang, 2022

Rating: 5/5

“An act of translation is necessarily an act of betrayal” concludes a character in the book and that essentially forms the crux of this novel — it starts with the hope that translation can bridge different cultures, but the protagonists soon discover that the power of words can tear people apart in a colonial framework.

Babel is a historical fantasy novel set in an alternate version of early 19th century England where the Royal Institute of Translation in Oxford (or Babel) drives the country’s technological prowess and colonial ambitions. Translators use silver bars enchanted with “match pairs” in different languages to do so. Robin Swift, Ramy Mirza, Victoire Desgraves and Letty Price enrol at Babel, longing to belong and grappling with their loyalties to their capitalist masters and their people.

Kuang's writing is accessible, simple, and fast-paced, yet insightful with her detailed exploration of the etymology of words in multiple languages. She liberally uses footnotes throughout the book. These range from pure fiction to reality, are often quirky, but significantly add to the book. However, at times, I felt the plot was somewhat formulaic — she has taken standard tropes such as racism (Robin’s real Chinese name is never revealed), capitalism and callousness (the willingness to profit from opium even at the expense of a generation’s well-being), friendship and betrayal, and same-sex love (with  subtle hints) and checked them against her plot. 

The varied tempo of her writing was another slight gripe for me. While the book is somewhat of a page-turner, the story moves along at a very rapid clip in the first third of the book while it gets stretched out in the concluding parts. Nevertheless, as Robin feels as a young child, “what a pleasure it was to hold the weight of an entire, finished story” in my hands!

Pros: Inventive plot, insightful and pacy

Cons: Slightly clichéd, varying pace

The Seven Moons of Maali Almeida, Shehan Karunatilaka, 2022

Rating: 5/5

This book, winner of the 2022 Booker Prize, is an incredible combination of an imaginative and almost wild storyline, abundant humor, a scathing commentary on Sri Lankan politics in the 1980s, and thoughtful character sketching of the main protagonist and supporting actors.

The premise of this book bears some resemblance to George Saunders' 2017 novel, Lincoln in the Bardo, that revolves around Abraham Lincoln's deceased son and various other characters, all situated in a realm between life and rebirth. Saunders incorporates real historical events from Lincoln's life into his narrative. Similarly, this book follows the journey of Maali Almeida, a photographer who wakes up dead and finds himself in the afterlife. He has seven days, or "moons," to move on or risk being trapped in the afterlife. Karunatilaka sets his story against the backdrop of the communal unrest in Sri Lanka during the 1980s.

The plot elements are zany and absolutely delightful and include a 42 storeyed afterlife waiting area, wind as the main form of transport, demons and other Sri Lankan mythological beings, a talking leopard and the important role of an Elvis Presley album. Karunatilaka’s writing is half-part humourous, especially when he comments on everday life in Sril Lanka during that period  — “Lankans can’t queue unless you define a queue as an amorphous curve with multiple entry points”, and half part philosophical — “Evil is not what we should fear. Creatures with power acting in their own interest: that is what should make us shudder”. Karunatilka also uses an interesting second-person narrative style which I thought somehow immerses the reader better into the book. There is a fair amount of reference to Sri Lankan events in the 1980s and the roles that various entities such as the government, the JVP party and the Indian army played but that should not be a constraint for a reader not familiar with these events. Karunatilka also helpfully incorporates a cheatsheet early on in the book to underscrore these entities.

But most importantly, Karunatilaka is able to flesh out the various characters really well — Maali’s lover, his lover’s cousin and father, a dead JVP activist, a blind astrologer, and several others. Maali Almeida’s character development through the events over the seven days as well as through flashbacks, is particularly well done. He is introduced to the reader as “Photographer. Gambler. Slut” right at the beginning of the book but we gradually then begin to understand his motivations and principles as the story progresses towards his inevitable redemption.

Pros: Zany plot, humorous writing, fleshed out characters

Cons: Nothing significant

Project Hail Mary, Andy Weir, 2021

Rating: 5/5

It is incredibly challenging for an author to successfully blend an intellectually stimulating narrative with detailed discussions on the theories of physics, while also making the book witty, relatable, and a page-turner. However, Andy Weir accomplishes this feat admirably in Project Hail Mary. The story revolves around Ryland Grace, a brilliant scientist and an unlikely hero, who wakes up aboard a spaceship with no recollection of how or why he ended up there or even who he is. As he gradually uncovers the purpose of his mission, the destiny of humanity becomes intricately intertwined with his discoveries and decisions.

The book starts off languidly and humorously, despite the circumstances that Grace finds himself in. Each of the first few chapters ends with an important revelation that helps him piece things together. After that, the narrative swiftly gains momentum, keeping readers engaged with a relentless series of challenges and discoveries, and interspersing these with the protagonist's poignant reflections. Throughout the book, Weir presents a myriad of scientific discussions and explanations that not only drive the plot forward but also explore the worlds of astrophysics, biology, and space exploration. This does create uneven pacing in the middle of the book, but by and large, Weir has succeeded in making complex scientific ideas accessible to readers of all backgrounds.

Above all, it's a testament to Weir's ability to intricately weave together scientific intrigue with the emotional depth of the characters, culminating in a satisfying and poignant conclusion.

Pros: Intellectually stimulating, witty, high emotional content

Cons: Uneven pacing in the middle

The Power Law, Sebastian Mallaby, 2022

Rating: 5/5

At the outset, Mallaby lays out two objectives for his book: (1) to explain the venture capital mindset, and (2) to evaluate its social impact (such as in creating meaningful products or ensuring diversity or better corporate governance). He succeeds in his first objective extremely well, covering the history of investments from its early days in companies such as Fairchild (that changed the history of the chip industry) to recent fiascos such as Theranos and WeWork, exploring investors’ changing mindset and approach through that journey. His treatment of the second objective is relatively superficial though, whether in his discussions on the creation of meaningful products or on the diversity in venture funds and their investment criteria or on corporate governance. However, we also get a bonus third objective from the book — the narration of several interesting “war stories” in companies ranging from Atari, Genentech and Intel, to Apple, Google and Facebook to more recent ones such as Uber.

The power law occurs when the winners advance at an accelerating and exponential rate, rather than a linear one. The 80:20 rule such as the one where 20% of the population own 80% of the wealth is one example of this. The book covers the various phases of venture investments in detail, starting with those by rich entrepreneurs to early innovations such as pooled capital (from limited partners) and activism capital (where investors played a key role in choosing managers and strategies), the era of creation of networks and “coopetition” (co-operation and competition at the same time), the no-holds-barred growth-investing style perpetuated by Softbank’s Masayoshi Son in the late 1990s, structured angel investments by the likes of Y Combinator, a tilt in the balance towards founders brought about by companies such as Google and Facebook and finally, the return to activist investing in companies such as WeWork and Uber. The book covers the history in multiple geographies, mainly in the US and in China, and to a small extent, in India as well. It also covers the history of several of the more significant firms such as Kleiner Perkins and Sequoia. 

The role and importance of venture capital is a hotly debated topic. While it cannot be denied that it has played and continues to play an important role in our progress, do venture capitalists create innovation or do they merely show up for it? Could they have done more to avoid some of technology’s adverse social impact or to encourage technologies such as greentech? Mallaby largely speaks out in favour of the venture capitalists but this part of the book is not as fleshed out as the rest of it. He argues that the future can only be discovered and not predicted, and this is the only form of capital that can enable this discovery by willing to take a large amount of risk (it was hence initially referred to as adventure capital). Mallaby argues that venture capitalists succeeded more due to skills than luck and companies such as Cisco and Google became what they are due to extensive coaching. He exonerates the investors from governance nightmares in companies such as Theranos, WeWork and Uber by arguing that more than three-quarters of late-stage venture funding in the United States between 2014 and 2016 came from non-traditional investors such as mutual funds, hedge funds, and sovereign wealth funds.  He does acknowledge the diversity issue however given the fact that a large proportion of the partners in these firms and the founders of their investee companies tend to be white men. 

Overall, the book is well-researched, laid out well and importantly, is easy and interesting to read. While I do have reasonable prior knowledge of the industry, I think a lay person would enjoy this equally. So, a 5-star book for me!

Pros: Extremely well-researched history, several interesting anecdotes, an interesting read

Cons: Superficial treatment of the social aspects

The Gene: An Intimate History, Siddhartha Mukherjee, 2016

Rating: 5/5

The context for the “intimate” part of the title is the incidence of bipolarity and schizophrenia in the male members of Mukherjee’s family — two of his uncles and a cousin were diagnosed with the disease - which would be a constant threat hovering over the family. And this sets the tone for Mukherjee’s fascinating and detailed exploration into the subject of genes. 

He divides the book into six parts, starting from 1865 until the present day, covering the history of genetics ranging from Mendel’s first experiments with peas to genome mapping. He combines significant academic rigour with writing flair while covering the 160-year journey that shaped human understanding of genetics. While parts of the book make heavy reading, Mukherjee keeps most of it interesting and sometimes even manages to convert potentially academic and mundane topics into racy narratives. The section on the race to discover the DNA structure by multiple scientists is one example. Or the race to map the human genome between a private company, Celera and the Human Genome Project. The Book of Man chapter, somewhere in the middle of the book, is particularly interesting with several factoids about human genes. 

The most fascinating parts of the book, as to be expected, cover the debate around eugenics, contrasting the benefits of manipulating genetics to avoid serious disabilities in humans, with the potential violation of individual rights and the marginalisation of certain sections that it could ultimately engender. There have been several instances in recent human history that foretell the significant negative implications of eugenics, such as the eugenics movement of the early 20th century, Nazi Germany’s policies and prenatal genetic testing, we need to tread along this path with extreme caution. While Mukherjee does not provide any concrete solutions, the book does make one pause and think.

Ultimately, The Gene turns out to be a great combination of history, science, personal narratives and some guide rails for the future of genetics!

Pros: Rigorous research and a fascinating look at the history of the gene

Cons: Heavy reading in parts

Chip War, Chris Miller, 2022

Rating: 5/5

“Chip War” is a detailed documentation of the history of silicon ships covering the early days of the industry and the early years of companies such as Texas Instruments and Intel, the attempts of countries such as Russia to emulate the American success, Japan’s (mainly Sony’s) rise, US’ eventual dominance, the emergence of Taiwan as an offshore centre and ending with the current geopolitical implications entering around China and Taiwan. The breadth of the book is tremendous, and Miller manages to cover it in about 350 crisp pages without skimping on the important details.

The only complaint I had was that a major portion of the book is largely like a historical narrative on the subject, not surprising given Miller’s background as a historian. For someone like me who’s been a stock market analyst in the technology sector, most of the information was not new. But even then, there were these little nuggets of information, the small insights into events and people that took the industry forward and some interesting anecdotes that compensated for this. Also, the last part of the book which covers the future implications of this race between the US and China to get the upper hand in this area, exacerbated by China’s intent to eschew economic integration, constitutes a well-written opinion piece. 

Overall, “Chip War” is a fascinating read for all, easily understood by readers new to the topic and with enough nuggets to satisfy even those familiar with the topic. Jerry Sanders, co-founder of AMD, had famously said that semiconductors were the crude oil of the 1980s. Since then, their importance has only grown and one could argue that the outcome of this chip war has the potential to influence the future of individual countries and even humankind, making it an incredibly relevant topic and the book an interesting read.

Pros: The breadth of coverage of the topic, interesting factoids and anecdotes, insightful discussion into the current and potential geopolitical implications

Cons: May drag a bit in places for readers familiar with the subject

Ghachar Ghochar, Vivek Shanbhag, 2015

Rating: 5/5

This book was originally written in Kannada but has not lost any of its essence in translation and so kudos to Srinath Perur who translated it to English. It’s a psychological drama centred around a household comprising the unnamed narrator, his parents, uncle, separated sister and his wife. The story deals with the sudden shift of the family from poverty to wealth and the magnification of the already existing dysfunction that the wealth brings about — “it’s not we who control money, it’s the money that controls us. When there’s only a little, it behaves meekly; when it grows, it becomes brash and has its way with us” as the narrator points out at some point in the story.

Ghachar Ghochar is a nonsensical phrase made up by a couple of the story’s protagonists to suggest the hopeless entanglement of a loose string. It captures the crux of the story as feelings of love, anger, greed, power, and fear get mired with each other leading to the slow downward spiral in many of the characters’ morals. There is enough of each character to feel sorry about and yet enough to despise them. Despite being a very short book and despite being set in very simple surroundings, there’s an underlying current of foreboding and darkness throughout the book. This is captured beautifully in a chapter on the family’s battle against an invasion of ants, making them “a family that took satisfaction in the destruction of ants”.

The key thing that struck me about the book was the simplicity yet profundity of Shanbhag’s writing in Ghachar Ghochar. While the book can be read easily in less than 2 hours, there is enough to relish while reading the book and enough to contemplate after completing the book. As that narrator expressed, “words after all are nothing by themselves. They burst into meaning only in the minds they’ve entered.” 

Pros: Simply yet wonderfully written, short

Cons: Nothing really

The Billion Dollar Spy, David Hoffman, 2015

Rating: 5/5

“The Billion Dollar Spy” is a fascinating book on the world of human spying during the Cold War and is largely centred around the experiences with Adolf Tolkachev, arguably America’s most valuable asset. He provided significant information on various important developments in Russia’s defence and offensive plans between 1977 and 1985 that were relevant for even decades after that and helped America widen its military capabilities significantly over its rival. And with the changing dynamics once again between America and Putin’s Russia, despite the technological advances in spying (superbly described in Nicole Perlroth’s “This is How They Tell Me the World Ends”), this topic takes on a contemporary hue once again.

Tolkachev was a senior engineer in a top-secret design laboratory and a specialist in airborne radar. He proactively approached the Americans to pass on critical information, largely motivated by significant disillusionment with the Soviet system and its failure to provide its people with a better life. He was not averse to material compensation either, including both significant amounts of money and small personal things for his family, especially for his son, that were impossible to obtain in Russia at that point of time. The money, however, seems more to have fulfilled his desire of being seen important given that it would have been very difficult for him to spend such large amounts of money. And for eight years, he was a passionate and conscientious spy, taking enormous amounts of risks. 

Importantly, the Tolkachev operation, codenamed CKSPHERE first and CKVANQUISH later, not only provided America with invaluable information but also changed its previously timid approach towards Cold War operations in Moscow. He is estimated to have saved almost two billion dollars in R&D costs for the Americans … and hence the title of the book.

Hoffman captures multiples nuances of spying extremely well — the actual tension during the exchanges (making parts of the book page-turners) and the fears of being caught, the small details including the types of equipment used and the process to exchange information and most importantly, the personal motivations driving Tolkachev and his various American “case officers”. Tolkachev’s struggles with the Soviet system, his need for constant reassurances and his fear for his life (and his constant requests for a poison pill in case he was to be captured) and the Americans’ dilemma between maximising the information that could be received from Tolkachev and their desire to protect him from unnecessary risks are well captured without slowing the pace of the book. Some of the details are amusing and almost unbelievable such as the use of pop-up dummies in car seats so that the case officer could slip away without being noticed by the KGB or the usage of lights in Tolkachev’s residence to signal his readiness for a “dead drop”.

The book, however, is inconsistent about the tricky ethical and integrity issues associated with spying. It conveniently paints Tolkachev as a hero of sorts, even though he did his own country great disservice and partly for monetary remuneration while it presents an American who spied similarly for Russia as a treacherous villain. And that’s jarring for a non-American reader such as me. Nevertheless, it’s an interesting insight into the world of spying and a quick read at that.

Pros: Fascinating insights into cold-war spying, interesting short read, personal nuances captured well

Cons: Inconsistent about the ethical aspects

When Breath Becomes Air, Paul Kalanithi, 2016

Rating: 5/5

When Breath Becomes Air, like Atul Gawande’s Being Mortal (which is probably the best non-fiction book that I have ever read), is about our own mortality and reflects on impending death. But it is also an autobiographical memoir of sorts, published posthumously after Kalanithi’s death from lung cancer. And while it does not have the prescriptive elements that Gawande’s book has to deal with ageing and death, it is a wonderfully crafted book on Kalanithi’s life as a medical practitioner and what his rapidly deteriorating illness meant for his family and for him.

Kalanithi was an extremely accomplished man with multiple degrees in English literature, biology and in philosophy in science and medicine, from Stanford, University of Cambridge and Yale School of Medicine and was a neurosurgeon and writer (and it was unfortunate that his life was cut short at the age of just 37). And it’s his love for English literature that shines through the book. He covers his early life in the deserts of Arizona and his subsequent career path in medicine in the first half of the book and muses on his terminal illness in the second part. The early days of his career take up a disproportionate part of the book but that’s understandable as his rapidly declining health towards the end left his manuscript incomplete. And the book is quite short at about 150 pages anyway. The only complaint, if any, is that the publishers should have split the book into chapters which would have made it easier to read, rather than lump it into two large halves. 

His writing is wonderful and the crafting of sentences exquisite — “when there’s no place for the scalpel, words are the surgeon’s only tool” for example. When Breath Becomes Air is bookended with beautifully written foreword by Abraham Verghese, an author and physician, and epilogue by Lucy Kalanithi, Paul’s wife, where she describes his last days and the ups and downs of their relationship and will leave readers moist-eyed. The best few lines in the book, in my view, were clearly the last words that he leaves for his baby daughter — what a beautiful legacy for her to have! 

While the Kalanithi’s story was tragic, there’s a heart-warming postscript fortunately — Lucy seems to have found love again. In a happy twist of fate, John Duberstein reached out to her after his dying wife, Nina Riggs, connected him to Lucy — Nina died of breast cancer and penned her memoirs too during her final days. And after a period of being “pen friends”, Lucy and John met and are now together. They surely deserve some happiness now! 

Pros: Moving, well-written, reflections on mortality

Cons: Despite the short length overall, the first quarter drags

The House of Silk, Anthony Horowitz, 2011

Rating: 5/5

Arthur Conan Doyle would have been proud of this book. When I think of Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes mysteries, three features stand out: the mystery itself and the process of its resolution, the warm dynamics of the Holmes-Watson relationship and the captivatingly captured atmosphere of late-19th century London. Horowitz’s Sherlock Holmes adventure, commissioned by Doyle’s estate, is a wonderful tribute on all three counts.

The book opens with an art dealer visiting Holmes due to his fears of being followed by an American gang leader. Holmes’ investigations result in the disappearance of a street urchin which in turn segues into a seemingly different mystery involving influential personages and the eponymous House of Silk and with a cliffhanger of an ending where the two different mysteries are neatly resolved. Horowitz often structures his detective novels in unique ways, such as the book within a book structure in Magpie Murders, and this book is no different. As Watson refers to it in the preface, this book is actually two mysteries — The Man in the Flat Cap, and The House of Silk — with a tenuous link between the two. The fact that Horowitz manages to make this look largely like Doyle’s book despite this is testament to his writing prowess.

The House of Silk will not disappoint Doyle fans. The mystery is top-notch, the resolution satisfying and there are enough clues strewn in the book that will make readers kick themselves at the end for not having figured it out earlier. Horowitz also manages to include some important characters from Holmes’ earlier adventures seamlessly into the narrative. There are a couple of incidents of Holmes showing off his detection skills as well, in that partly impressive and partly irritating manner of his that we have grown to love. This story does deviate from Doyle’s works in a couple of ways though — it turns out to be far darker than what Coyle has ever attempted and the end of the book includes more action than what we are used to in a typical Sherlock Homes adventure. The latter was probably directed towards “any circling Hollywood producers” as Horowitz cheekily mentions in the book’s epilogue.

An added bonus: The epilogue where Horowitz details the conception of the book and the rules that he followed while writing it is a nice little read by itself.

Pros: Great mystery, true to Doyle’s writing

Cons: A bit darker than what Holmes fans are used to