I wanted to like this book. After I first received it (I forgot to mark it received in the early reviewers list) I started it, but then forgot all about it. Recently I found it in my Kindle and started reading again and discovered why I'd stopped reading and forgot about it in 2019.

The first thing Mr. Nair says is how much he hated to read. It shows. His grasp of the English language in written form is, to be kind, weak. Maybe it's a better book in his mother tongue.

I couldn't get through it. It made me feel the way I did as a child when I had misbehaved and my father sat me down and told me how much worse his life had been at my age and how he would never have dreamed of doing what I did out of fear of the consequences or, having done it, then reaped those dire consequences he was sparing me from. I don't like that feeling.

The stories may be good. I don't know. I couldn't get past the stilted English and the feeling I was being lectured to. Maybe I'll try reading random bits here and there. Maybe not.
...
As I came back to edit a typo, it made me think that perhaps what this book needs most is a good editor. ( )