'Quarterlife' by Devika Rege: Overhyped or a Masterpiece?

Are you familiar with the phrase ‘quarter-life crisis’? It’s that mix of confusion, ambition, and anxiety we feel in our twenties. Devika Rege’s Quarterlife dives straight into that experience. This novel isn’t just about growing up—it’s about how our personal life is caught in societal crosswinds. While reading, I kept thinking about Nepal’s restless youth—Gen Z, who keep on pushing limits and demanding change.

Introduction to Author & Context

Devika Rege came from journalism, and you see that edge in her writing. Quarterlife is her debut novel, and it’s already made waves—winning the Mathrubhumi Book of the Year in 2021 and the Ramnath Goenka Sahitya Samman in 2023. What’s compelling is how she layers the story: it’s set in modern India, but the conflicts and tensions feel regional and universal.

Many readers called the story a “character-driven” novel—where what the characters think, perceive, and feel is as important as what they do. The inner lives, the shifting loyalties, the moral unrest—all these are what many readers say linger with them after finishing the book. And honestly, I share the same feeling.

Plot Overview with Spoilers
Let’s talk about the plot of the novel. It starts with Naren Agashe, an NRI who finally secures a U.S. green card. But instead of building a life in America, he returns to India, convinced that the new government—the Bharat Party—offers a more promising future. It promises development, honesty, and growth.

Naren brings Amanda, a photographer chosen for an NGO fellowship in Mumbai. She lands in Deonar, a suburb of Mumbai where she sees life in its rawest forms—poverty, social exclusion, and everyday resilience. While Naren is drawn into the alluring world of big business, Amanda feels the shock of India’s underbelly: caste tension, religious differences, and economic disparity.

Then there’s Rohit, Naren’s younger brother, who runs a modest film studio with friends. His life is unsettled—he becomes romantically involved with Amanda, but his heart is also drawn toward a solo road trip in the Western Ghats. On that journey, he meets Omkar, a small-town cinematographer with radical ideas. Their bond forces Rohit to confront choices he didn’t see coming.

What's interesting is how these three characters begin in parallel, almost detached from politics, but gradually get bound by it. Naren realizes that to grow in business, one often needs political backing. Amanda, through her work, begins to perceive how caste and religious identity shape every interaction. Rohit, caught between liberal city life and Omkar’s radicalism, finds himself at a cultural and moral crossroads.

One of the most talked-about scenes is when Rege portrays the Ganpati visarjan. She lets multiple voices—some central, some minor—all speak in quick succession. Even a character given just a paragraph contributes to a larger, textured image of Mumbai: its joy, its conflict, and its contradictions.

Because Quarterlife is told from alternating chapters of Naren, Amanda, and Rohit, what we see is not a single yarn but three intersecting lenses. Their perceptions shift, the alliances change, and the boundaries blur.

Title Significance
Let’s pause at the title: Quarterlife. On first glance, it refers to the age—those twenties when everything feels uncertain. But in Rege’s hands, it becomes symbolic. It’s not merely a time of personal crossroads; it’s a generational turning point. Naren, Amanda, and Rohit wrestle with ambition, identity, and morality—and with forces bigger than themselves.

“Quarterlife” thus captures both the micro and the macro—the individual turmoil of youth and the collective crisis of a society in flux. It echoes loudly when we look at Nepal: Gen Z here is confronting inequality, authority, and identity in a rapidly changing world.

Themes & Analysis
One thing readers often comment on is how Quarterlife blurs boundaries. Our everyday decisions—career, love, friendships—don’t exist in a vacuum. Rege shows us how politics seeps into our most private choices. She doesn’t preach; she lets characters stumble and change.

Privilege and inequality are central. Naren has advantages he’s partly blind to; Amanda is forced to see those disparities as an outsider. In Nepal too, young people are confronting divides—class, caste, and ethnic hierarchies; city versus village life; and corruption at every level. The discomfort is the same. Rege also doesn’t shy away from religion, caste, patriarchy, corruption, and how these play out through Bollywood, business, media—and even history.

‘Quarterlife’ doesn’t feel top-heavy with ideas; the ideas grow organically out of the characters. That’s exactly why the novel stays with them—the internal conflicts and shifting allegiances feel deeply human.

Another theme that gets mentioned often is disillusionment vs. hope. The characters are frequently frustrated or disillusioned—but they still argue, still push, still question. That tension is powerful.

Strengths and Criticism
Quarterlife has a lot of strength. Its characters are layered and real. Its structure—alternating perspectives—keeps us engaged. The writing feels crisp and urgent. And the depth of Rege’s research shows: politics, religion, media, and society all feel fully lived rather than tacked on.

Every reader of this book definitely appreciates how it doesn’t settle for easy answers. It is messy. It is morally gray. It pushes us to question assumptions.

Still, it has a few weaknesses. Some sections feel a bit long—scenes where the political or social commentary slows us down. Some emotional arcs don’t get as much space. Given how many big topics it takes up, there are moments that could have been tighter. Having said that, I still feel it’s a “very strong debut” with huge promise ahead.

Relevance to Nepal’s Context
Quarterlife is a bold and provocative debut. Its strength lies not just in what it tells but in how it lets us live inside the minds of characters wrestling with their time.

Why should Nepali readers like me care about this book? Because the themes this novel carries mirror exactly what’s happening here.

Nepal’s Gen Z—whether on social media, in rallies, or on the ground—is challenging authority, fighting corruption, and redefining identity. They’re restless and disillusioned but also deeply hopeful. And that’s exactly what Quarterlife captures: the messiness of being young in a society that’s changing too slowly.

In many ways, Nepal’s Gen Z is closer to Omkar than to Rohit—impatient, radical, and unafraid to shake the system. Just like Naren, young Nepalese living abroad are wondering if they should invest their future back home, despite the political mess. And just like Amanda, outsiders sometimes see the inequalities of Nepal more sharply than we do ourselves.

Final Verdict
This parallel made the book hit very close to home for me. I’d give Quarterlife 4.5 out of 5 stars. It’s challenging and uncomfortable but deeply rewarding. If you're someone who wants fiction that engages with society, that forces reflection, that doesn’t let you walk away unaffected—this should be on your shelf.