I wonder if you have read many Indian novels? Midnight's Children? The God of Small Things? A Fine Balance? The Inheritance of Loss?

They have a peculiar quality… often unrelenting in their depiction of great suffering. They often play with you… Just when you think it is impossible for humanity to sink any lower, that people could not bear with any more pain… something unexpected and devastating happens. Oh, and don't expect a happy ending. The best that the hero or heroine gets is discovery of the inner strength to carry on.

Solo is an Indian novel set in Bulgaria! The author is Rana Dasgupta who was born in England and worked in London and New York before moving to Delhi to fulfil his dream of becoming an author. His first book, Tokyo Cancelled, was widely acclaimed.

This new novel has received a commendation from Salman Rushdie, and may figure in Man Booker lists this year. It is a strange book, but felt significant.

Half the book consists of the reminiscing of Ulrich, a 100-year-old man from Bulgaria, reflecting on his life, and telling the story of his long slide into abject poverty and chaos.

It is also the story of his country, torn between Asia and Europe, and exploited by both. The theme of the book is captured by the picture on the cover, an anecdote told in the story of some parrots who were found by explorers. They had mimicked the speech of a lost civilisation, and the explorers sent them home for linguists to capture the language… but the parrots died on the way.

Ulrich is telling his story in the hope that something of value might be communicated, or even discovered by himself in the telling, before he dies.

I was hoping for some relief through the book, but in exquisite prose, Dasgupta confirms the complete depravity of the human heart. The cruelty of humans to each other on an individual and social and state level is impossible to ignore.

The second half of the book is composed of the daydreams of Ulrich, stories he has gathered to help him escape from, or explain, the disappointments of his life. They are vivid, and often transcendent.

It is hard to "enjoy" this novel, but I admired the quality of the writing. It is good to be reminded of how difficult life is for the majority of our fellow world citizens, even in "civilised" places like Europe. It is also a testimony to the fragility of life, a lesson we were exposed to during the recent Victorian bushfire tragedy.

I came away with the conviction that we need to hold lightly the things around us, love deeply the people around us, and trust completely in the One who is sovereign. How I wish Ulrich had a faith, and a community, which could sustain him. The treasures of the Christian faith: grace, hope and the joy of being loved, seem so much richer and more real as a result of reading this novel.

Has tragedy had a similar clarifying effect for you?