It’s not often that we come across a book who shows us how inelastic our imaginations
are. Daily rigor petrifies our thoughts, and clutches them in rigor mortis. Sometimes we try fighting it; we mostly rely on the television to free us from it, at least temporarily.
Only to wake to another dawn of uneasy reality.
But what does a good novel do? Continue reading Review of ‘Shame’ by Salman Rushdie