Gour deals with Indian reality but she's remained in the India of the '70s and '80s, seemingly unaware that along with the Indianscape, writing styles have also changed. What might have been innovative Indian writing in English two decades ago, is passé now at the turn of the century and what emerges seems like a bad, literally word-for-word, translation of regional literature. The stories bore, at times giving one a feeling of deja vu—of having read it somewhere else before, the 'twist in the tale' predictable. Like in the eponymous Winter Companions. Off to a good start exploring the growing friendship between two lonely widowers in the winter of their lives, she loses grip of the narration, flags in the middle, and finally falls into the trap of a melodramatic banal ending.
One story—The Guest—stands out, though, coming as a bit of a surprise from a writer who seems hesitant about violating any set norms. Maturely handled, though the very vernacular style persists, the story progresses at a quick pace with a young village wife providing an unexpected male guest all the respect due in the absence of her husband. She wonders who he is, as do the readers, and the suspense is well built up till the husband's return. In the end, the enlightened reader is left wondering whether the wife finally figured out who he was. Such flashes of originality are the book's saving grace. But then, literary offerings need a bit more than that.
