It's The God of Small Things. I just finished reading it a few days ago. Cool really isn't the word I'd use to describe the book. Roy's prose is beautiful, playful and very much her own, but I thought it overdone to the point of being cloying at times. However, given the poignancy and pathos which are evoked from some of the dark and ugly moments in the story, I think the book would have been so depressing as to be unreadable without the writing style she chose for the telling of it. I have mixed feelings about it. While it's definitely a good book, I have to say it left me saddened and maybe somewhat less innocent than I'd like to be. It's like I've been stained.