DIAMOND DUST AND OTHER STORIES [Paperback]

Bypassing the obvious to capture the evasive is a quality particular to the short story, whose genre is ideally suited to treat the ephemeral. Its constraints allow to expand only sufficiently what the leniency of the novel would lose in all its space. A genre more purely aesthetic and much less moral-bound than its counterparts in prose, it's all about conveying impressions and creating impact. Its constraints rule out indulgence and superfluousness, making it the ideal genre to tackle the subtle.

It is exactly this attribute that Anita Desai capitalizes on. She captures moments and emotions high in delicacy and measures an exact number of words to draw them up - one word less and the sketch is left wanting, one word more and it's already redundant. Her expression is the language of fragility itself and she tackles the most discreet of subjects with effortless poise. Her stories move between a whole range of moods; from exuberant to mellow, from exultant to creastfallen, from delight to ennui, from expectant to disappointed. Her word, like the stroke of the seasoned artist, is sure of itself, it never wavers or falters and fits in its place like a jewel.

In some stories, characters try to grapple with figments of their past which surface unexpectedly, This is the case in 'Royalty', 'Underground', 'T Tomorrow' and 'Winterscape'. Characters from the past reappear after long absences and are incompatible with the present. Efforts to accommodate them are slowly swallowed by the demands of routine and changed priorities. This causes disappointments, regrets and sadness. Sometimes, this visit by an 'appariton of the past' can momentarily relieve the monotony of life. And it is this moment in time that the story freezes - this strange relief before life resumes its regular drone.

On the lines of James Joyce's 'Araby', only a lot more fathomable is 'The Artist's Life' - about youth's disillusion...that fraction of a second in which by the slightest jolt an idol falls and an icon breaks. The intensity of this moment in youth, so ridiculously melodramatic and absurd in retrospect - that is the story.

'Five hours to Simla' sketches a colourful, entertaining and exasperating interlude in a family's drive to Simla. Animated by spashes of local colour - Indian sights, Indian sounds and some very Indian loonies.

In a clear Kafkaesque vein, with all its brooding mood is the freaky 'The Man Who Saw Himself Drown'. As intriguing as it is irresistible, the story mingles absurdity with sorrow. Very floutingly Sarterian. Less brooding but as tragic, 'Diamond Dust' probes the limits of human devotion.

The last and my favourite, 'Rooftop Dwellers' is about a young girl embracing the odds of independent life in pursuit of her goals. Her new lodging is her dream house but is not without its inconveniences. This newfound freedom is an exhilarating feeling, one she chooses over everything else.

Much short of grandiloquence but not the least embarrassed of it, these stories appeal to you with all the miniature beauty of trinkets. Surrender to them and let them seduce u with their dainty appeal.

Sorry to be so jaundiced but I really don't see what all the fuss is about...