Starts really slow, gets really good in the middle but then ends abruptly.. but a good read

Another book by another Indian writer. I really like these writers.

This is a book about the Sandurbans (sp?), the islands in the Bay of Bengal and the animals and marine life there. The story involves characters from all walks of life. The main character is an American girl of Indian parentage, a marine biologist, who is there to inventory the marine animals.

There is much to learn here about the people, the marine and animal life (including the Bengal tiger), life for the people who inhabit the area.

Great novel that captures the complexity of the natural and cultural dangers of the Sundarbans/Bay of Bengal. Suspenseful and beautifully written

A fantastic book, my third by Amitav Ghosh.
The descriptions are amazing: detailed, empathetic, and never boring.
The storyline is very non-pretentious. Still not out of place as a modern novel.

Non avevo mai letto nulla di Ghosh ma sono stato profondamente affascinato da Il paese delle maree. E' un libro dalla ottima prosa e dai temi assai interessanti, curati sin da subito senza grosse presentazioni di rito. E' un libro abbastanza lungo e con qualche lungaggine nella seconda parte, ma è molto immersivo ed evocativo, ha un modo particolare di rendere vivide le immagini che descrive che lo rendono assai scorrevole. Non tutti i personaggi e i conflitti sono risolti del tutto, a mio avviso, ma è stata comunque una lettura soddisfacente, e di quelle da gustare a poco a poco.

The Hungry Tide by Amitav Ghosh

This story has such an astonishing, heart-tugging ending, that I wish I had the time to read it again! What intrigued me about it is the setting: the Sundarbans, a group of thousands of islands in the bay of Bengal, India, bordering Bangladesh. Mr. Ghosh, a prize winning author and Oxford scholar, tells the tale while educating us in the ways of the tidal country: its man-eating tigers, exotic Mangrove trees, the extreme weather as in tsunamis and tidal waves (hence the title).

We meet Piya, an American marine biologist who has traveled from Seattle to the Sundarbans to study and research a rare river dolphin, one that adapts to both salt and fresh water. Navigating the rivers with her is Fokir, an illiterate fisherman who is very wise in the lay of the land, and who saves her hide more than once from terrifying circumstances. Enter Kanai, a translator and businessman from Delhi, attracted to Piya, yet reluctant to offer his heart. Don't be misled, this is NOT a boy meets girl love triangle. Rather, it is the story of survival in harsh conditions, of unimaginable lifestyles for the natives of Bengal, of dangers that lurk everywhere and take their emotional toll on all involved.

A brilliant read, one that I recommend checking out of our library as our Toni Buckner recommended it to me.
Happy reading and joyous holidays everyone!

This book was beautifully written. It combined the hardness of the land, the force of the tides and the softness of the people.

Set in a place so remote on the brink of survival was fascinating. There was a huge sense of the delta constantly changing and the likelihood that the village was only temporary and at the whims of mother nature.

Telling a story through the intertwining of then and now was exhilarating. The stories told through the diary fulfilled a greediness of wanting to know everything about the characters, especially as you meet some of them in the present.

The awareness of the stealth of the ever-watching Bengal tigers was exciting. You never felt anyone was safe, whether on mud or river. A similar extent was felt with the crocodiles. Combining the potential threat of animal attack and the typhoon-prone land brought an exciting amount of suspense.

The characters were interesting. The characters were of different ways of life and it was enjoyable watching them meld together. The city folk learning from the people of the land and river and vice versa. Some of the dialogue was ordinary but easily overlooked.

The potential love interests were subtle and not a huge emphasis of the book however it kept you guessing how the various characters would respond.

The tide land analogies were poetic and beautiful adding a pleasant depth to the hardness of certain characters.

After reading this book, I am now looking at travelling to the Sundarbans. I would recommend this book to anyone with a love of nature and who would enjoy an exciting yet gentle storyline.

Credit where it's due, Amitav Ghosh has a gift for description and imagery. The mangrove forests of the Sundarbans are portrayed with great clarity and all their sinister charm intact. The creatures of the Sundarbans, in particular the dolphin and the tiger which feature prominently, also make for a captivating read, in particular the tiger (though it is less central to the plot), which manages to evoke a primeval fear of the creature, that goes back to the very roots of humanity, when we were still the hunted as opposed to the hunters. But these are all secondary to the plot and story, which are both quite disappointing. Ghosh's feeble attempts at romantic undertones are amateurish and contrived, his characters aren't compelling (and with the exception of maybe Fokir, quite boring), his tale of Morichjhapi and the Bengal refugee crisis starts off on a promising note before faltering, and all in all, The Hungry Tide is just quite disappointing.

“But Kanai,” said Piya, “there’s a big difference between preserving a species in captivity and keeping it in its habitat.” “And what is that difference exactly?” “The difference, Kanai,” Piya said slowly and emphatically, “is that it was what was intended—not by you or me, but by nature, by the earth, by the planet that keeps us all alive. Just suppose we crossed that imaginary line that prevents us from deciding that no other species matters except ourselves. What’ll be left then? Aren’t we alone enough in the universe? And do you think it’ll stop at that? Once we decide we can kill off other species, it’ll be people next—just the kind of people you’re thinking of, people who’re poor and unnoticed.”

Knyga nukelia į Sundarbanus – Indijoje ir Bangladeše plytintį mangrovių salų labirintą. Autorius apie šį kampelį kalba gyvai ir su meile. Tai nesvetingas kraštas, ir viena iš romano temų yra žmogaus ir gamtos santykis. Kalbama ir apie skurdą, priklausymą vietai, socializmą. Dalis knygos pasakojama dviem laiko linijomis, bet praeitis manęs neužkabino. Norėjau daugiau laiko praleisti su mokslininke Piya kanaluose tarp salų. Jos požiūris į gamtą ir gyvūnus pasirodė artimas manajam. Patiko, kad dauguma romano moterų yra tvirtai ant žemės stovinčios realistės, darytojos, o štai vyrai – Rilkę cituojantys ir truputį padebesiais skraidantys poetai. Tiesa, bene silpniausia knygos vieta – veikėjų santykių, ypač romantinių vaizdavimas ir kūrimas. Kartais atrodė, kad jausmai kyla tarytum iš niekur, vien todėl, kad susitikę žmonės – skirtingų lyčių.
Apskritai romanas sukėlė daug minčių ir noro domėtis. Įsivaizduoju, kad tai būtų geras pasirinkimas knygų klubui.

I thought that the main character, Piya, was too stereotypical. The dumb American travels across the world and experiences culture shock. She was also supposed to be a trained scientist, but constantly needed to be saved and was overly emotional. I'm sick of female characters who need men to save them, even if they are dressed up as professionals. I did think that it was interesting to read a story set in this part of the world, however.

At the moment I'm working on a book about rising sea levels, so I've been on the lookout for books about people faced with increasing flooding from the sea and extreme weather. My search led me first to Amitav Ghosh'sGun Island which is a wide ranging story of Bengladeshis, Indians, and Venetians facing escalating threats. The first two-thirds is very down-beat, but the end is almost a fairy tale of people and nature overcoming climate challenges.

The Hungry Tide, published nearly 15 years previously, is a sort of prequel, although I've not found a mention of Ghosh commenting on this. It contains some of the most evocative writing about weather I've come across, as well as chilling analysis of what was happening at the turn of the 21st century in the great flood plain and myriad islands of the Ganges and the Sundarbans. I found myself reading late into the night as I raced to find out whether anyone survived a massive weather event, even though by the time I got to the end of the book, I knew that some people did since they feature prominently in Gun Island.

Both books are good reading for their story, and for the messages and warnings they carry.

In high school, when I first read, and abandoned mid-way, The Crystal Palace, I found Amitav Ghosh's writing ponderous, the plots too long-winded. The Shadow Lines which was part of the undergraduate syllabus did not improve my perception much, despite an author-signed copy of the volume. It was a few years later that the first book in the Ibis trilogy, The Sea of Poppies, brought about a complete turnaround, a change of heart. Now, I can only blame youth and my own impatience for the early and callous dismissals.
Each book by him that I have read since, first The River of Smoke, then In an Ancient Land, a return to The Shadow Lines while lecturing on it, and now The Hungry Tide, has only made me appreciate Ghosh the writer and thinker. His works are a near-perfect blend of revisionist historiography and writing-from-below. Added to this is his abiding interest in the hyrbidity of languages and cultures and communication beyond the verbal, his deep empathy with the natural world, his ability to bring to life worlds passed casually by but rich in narrative potential, I could go on.
The Hungry Tide combines the same instinct to resuscitate marginal spaces and lives, the Sunderbans, the history of the tide country, its hardy people, the Morichjhapi massacre, the flora and fauna of the mangroves and individual lives tangled in the tidal waves and roots. And one of the elements I most admire is his ability to debate from every perspective the difficulties of representing and 'translating' imagined subaltern speech while writing in English as well as the dilemma of the urbane outsiders's position. I guess his training in ethnography helped him think this through.
The language is rich, but simple, sprinkled with phrases of startling beauty but admittedly, the prose never overwhelms with its luminousity as does say that of Nabokov. Ghosh's talents lie in being a storyteller beyond compare and his hunch for history and ethnography which leads him to widespread locales and lives, borught alive with a stellar imagination and deep empathy.
Piya, Fokir, Moyna and Kanai will remain with the reader for long after the last page is read.