On turning the last page of Devdas, a short novella that I could hardly bear to put down, whilst one is forced to confront feelings of sadness and loss at the tragedy that has just unfolded one is further provoked, not to weep, but to try and understand and explain them. The true reason for the success of Devdas as fiction is less in the melodramatic emotions of love and In the hands of Chattopadhyay the grandiosity of the love-triangle becomes an achingly beautiful piece of minimalist fiction.
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