Skip to main content

80 Hours to Save Karen


Book Review

Sitharaam Jayakumar is a good story teller. His e-book, Eighty Hours to Save Karen, kept me hooked so much so that I read it in one go this morning. It is the story of Air Commodore Mathew Williams’ single-minded efforts to save his granddaughter Karen Lakshmi who has been afflicted with a mysterious illness. Karen is the last member of the family left to him.

   The mystery revolves round the few people who lived in Mathew’s house before he bought it in an auction. All those people perished too in rather tragic circumstances some of which were their own making. Their gardener survives to tell their tale. And the gardener has one trick too many up his sleeve.

   Mathew lives in Kimnur, a remote village in Himachal Pradesh and the story revolves round his house there though he has to drive to Shimla and fly to Mumbai within the eponymous 80 hours in order to connect the necessary threads in the plot. Finally all the loose ends are brought together to take the plot to its necessary climax and resolve the mystery.

  Jayakumar brings some interesting nuances to the plot by referring to satanic cults and witchcraft though they don’t play any major role in the development apart from revealing the character of a chief player in the game. There is a touch of science fiction too when the antagonist’s motives are revealed.

   As a debut novel, Eighty Hours to Save Karen is a promising work. The author is able to retain the reader’s attention till the end – well, almost to the end, because there is a little anticlimactic add-on in the last two chapters which could have been avoided by making a few tweaks to the plot.

   Average readers of suspense thrillers and crime fiction may not look for much by way of characterisation. Nevertheless characterisation plays an important role in making a novel impressive. Jayakumar could have done a better job at that, I think. The negative characters in the novel emerge as pretty convincing and impressive while the positive ones are too good, almost angelic, to enchant the reader. Heroes must have feet of clay in order to leave their marks on the readers. Angels belong to the other world and are of little interest to intelligent readers.

   Anyone interested in suspense thrillers and crime fiction will find Jayakumar’s novel good for a quick read. The book is available for free download here.


Top post on IndiBlogger, the biggest community of Indian Bloggers



Comments

  1. Thanks for a very balanced review, Sir. Shall definitely take heed of the points that you have mentioned and work on them.

    Sitharaam Jayakumar

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks for the riveting book. Wishing all your readers many more such wonderful books from your fingers!!!

      Delete
  2. Shall surely pick this book for thriller reading. Review makes the plot more interesting :)

    Cheers
    MeenalSonal from AuraOfThoughts

    ReplyDelete
  3. Definitely picking this up for a read!

    ReplyDelete
  4. This comment has been removed by the author.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Adventures of Toto as a comic strip

  'The Adventures of Toto' is an amusing story by Ruskin Bond. It is prescribed as a lesson in CBSE's English course for class 9. Maggie asked her students to do a project on some of the lessons and Femi George's work is what I would like to present here. Femi converted the story into a beautiful comic strip. Her work will speak for itself and let me present it below.  Femi George Student of Carmel Public School, Vazhakulam, Kerala Similar post: The Little Girl

Sanjay and other loyalists

AI-generated illustration Some people, especially those in politics, behave as if they are too great to have any contact with the ordinary folk. And they can get on with whoever comes to power on top irrespective of their ideologies and principles. Sanjay was one such person. He occupied some high places in Sawan school [see previous posts, especially P and Q ] merely because he knew how to play his cards more dexterously than ordinary politicians. Whoever came as principal, Sanjay would be there in the elite circle. He seemed to hold most people in contempt. His respect was reserved for the gentry. I belonged to the margins of Sawan society, in Sanjay’s assessment. So we hardly talked to each other. Looking back, I find it quite ludicrous to realise that Sanjay and I lived on the same campus 24x7 for a decade and a half without ever talking to each other except for official purposes.      Towards the end of our coexistence, Sawan had become a veritable hell. Power supply to the

Thomas the Saint

AI-generated image His full name was Thomas Augustine. He was a Catholic priest. I knew him for a rather short period of my life. When I lived one whole year in the same institution with him, I was just 15 years old. I was a trainee for priesthood and he was many years my senior. We both lived in Don Bosco school and seminary at a place called Tirupattur in Tamil Nadu. He was in charge of a group of boys like me. Thomas had little to do with me directly as I was under the care of another in-charge. But his self-effacing ways and angelic smile drew me to him. He was a living saint all the years I knew him later. When he became a priest and was in charge of a section of a Don Bosco institution in Kochi, I met him again and his ways hadn’t changed an iota. You’d think he was a reincarnation of Jesus if you met him personally. You won’t be able to meet him anymore. He passed away a few years ago. One of the persons whom I won’t ever forget, can’t forget as long as the neurons continu

William and the autumn of life

William and I were together only for one year, but our friendship has grown stronger year after year. The duration of that friendship is going to hit half a century. In the meanwhile both he and I changed many places. William was in Kerala when I was in Shillong. He was in Ireland when I was in Delhi. Now I am in Kerala where William is planning to migrate back. We were both novices of a religious congregation for one year at Kotagiri in Tamil Nadu. He was older than me by a few years and far more mature too. But we shared a cordial rapport which kept us in touch though we went in unexpected directions later. William’s conversations had the same pattern back then and now too. I’d call it Socratic. He questions a lot of things that you say with the intention of getting to the depth of the matter. The last conversation I had with him was when I decided to stop teaching. I mention this as an example of my conversations with William. “You are a good teacher. Why do you want to stop

Uriel the gargoyle-maker

Uriel was a multifaceted personality. He could stab with words, sting like Mike Tyson, and distort reality charmingly with the precision of a gifted cartoonist. He was sedate now and passionate the next moment. He could don the mantle of a carpenter, a plumber, or a mechanic, as situation demanded. He ran a school in Shillong in those days when I was there. That’s how I landed in the magic circle of his friendship. He made me a gargoyle. Gradually. When the refined side of human civilisation shaped magnificent castles and cathedrals, the darker side of the same homo sapiens gave birth to gargoyles. These grotesque shapes were erected on those beautiful works of architecture as if to prove that there is no human genius without a dash of perversion. In many parts of India, some such repulsive shape is placed in a prominent place of great edifices with the intention of warding off evil or, more commonly, the evil eye. I was Uriel’s gargoyle for warding off the evil eye from his sc