If you want to call me cold-hearted and nitpicky now is the time to do so.

I was prepared to surrender myself to a legendary love story that breaks the barriers of time and distance. Romance is good.

However, I need consistency within the story. The world created in the story needs to make sense according to the story. Too many details did not adhere to this principle, at least as far as I am concerned.

I am willing to accept that an impoverished, blind, semi-orphan living in a monastery in rural Burma had access to a couple of books in Braille (left behind by a British officer) but asking me to believe he was well versed in all the classics, all of which were read in Braille from his extensive collection is a bit much. And how was the love of his life writing him letters? When exactly did she become literate? Who was educating girls, especially with a handicap? What about the daughter who was abandoned as a child, without any warning, forgives all the moment she hears about how great the love story was? I guess that’s what is called “short-term therapy”.

I think what bothered me most was the underlying assumption that true wisdom can only be found where there is desperate poverty, children die young of diseases that are preventable, a person with a mobility handicap must be carried on other people’s back and more. Don’t get me wrong, I’m perfectly willing to truly believe that there is a great deal of wisdom to be found in such places. It’s the “only” that really gets me.

I do not intend to read the second book.