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Journalism of Courage
You Are Here, Meenakshi Reddy Madhavan, Penguin, Rs 199
Teenage girls, messy kisses and men who cry 8212; it is like printouts of a virtual diary
The internet is the most wonderful medium, making actors, filmmakers, singers and writers of all of us. The danger is when the democracy of the worldwide web gets translated on to the print, an album, or even a film release.
Such is the case with blogger and journalist Meenakshi Reddy Madhavan8217;s debut book, wonderfully monikered, You Are Here as in road maps. She is also the writer of a blog called 8220;The Compulsive Confessor8221; and the book is less of a novel and more a selection of printouts of her virtual diary. Nothing much happens in You Are Here, there really isn8217;t a tale to be told or a narrative to be understood. It8217;s just a series of Madhavan8217;s opinions on various topics, ranging from pimples to maids to men who cry and, of course, underwear. Ironically, the book8217;s first line is: 8220;No one should tell their story unless they8217;re absolutely certain they have something to say.8221;
She has also just been dumped by Cheating Chetan, and as most girls are wont to, begins her frog-kissing until she meets Knockout Kabir, a rich, good-looking guy who won8217;t call her until the end of the book probably.
Sounds like those lovely escapist Mills 038; Boons 8212; except there8217;s no sex, only a lot of cheap thrills. Sample this: 8220;He said something on the lines of 8216;Let8217;s meet up for coffee8217; and we did, and I discovered we had more in common than I8217;d imagined. The coffee led to a drink, which led him to kissing me sloppily in the car. He was always a messy kisser, seeming to swallow my entire mouth or throat, whichever he focused on. But oh, he made my panties flutter like no one ever had before, even with his sloppy kissing.8221;
There are more references to annoying bra rolls, hickeys and some such. There8217;s more juvenilia: the chapter titles in which i talk about summer and first times; in which i visit my mom; in which you meet our neighbours and the like are rip-off from the sitcom Friends. Then there are turns of phrase like 8220;Being around him is comforting and reassuring, like eating an ice cream and knowing you don8217;t want to be anywhere else doing anything else right then8221;. The book8217;s also peppered with random characters, only first names, who never reappear on the pages again. So you meet Gagan, Amar and Kon who you8217;ll never really know.
It furrows teen territory 8212; and is more like Sweet Sixteens for teenagers, instead of 20- or 30-somethings, who the now-defunct chick-lit genre speaks to. Sadly, even the Sex and the City girls have decided to grow up and get real.
