Thoughts about the novel Heat and Dust evolve over the course of reading

Finished reading Ruth Prawer Jhabvala's Booker-winning 1975 novel, Heat and Dust, and events and disclosures in the final third of the novel force me to rethink parts of the entire book. I won't give too much away for fear of spoiling the experience for potential readers, but will just say that, as the parallel narratives develop - one about a young married woman, Olivia, in India in the 1920s as the wife of a British government officials, the other about a young woman diarist/narrator (unnamed?) in the present day (i.e., the 1970s) who travels to India to learn more about Olivia's fate - begin to converge (and to mirror each other; the two women 50 years apart undergo similar experiences) we, or at least I, recognize that some of my assumptions, as expressed in the previous posts, are completely inaccurate. This observation shows me or reminds me that these posts, the act of keeping a daily reading blog, differs from writing a review: If I were to review Heat and Dust or were to try to shape these posts into a review, I'd have to make major edits to the previous posts; but in fact my goal in this blog, as noted in initial posts back in 2009, is to keep a daily record of what I'm thinking about what I'm reading. If my thoughts about a novel change over the course of my reading, these posts are a record of that process. All told, RPJ's novel is a success and I still could imagine it as a movie (I haven't check to see if it's ever been filmed); the comparisons w/ Forster are still apt, though particularly in the final third of the novel we see a much more critical look at life in India, the crime, the injustices, the horrible medical services, the callous attitude toward death and suffering, the brutality toward women. Also, of course, this novel feels more contemporary that Forster, even in the 1920s section; RPJ is more open and explicit about sex, and in the 1970s portion one of the significant characters is a young Englishman who's trying to live life as an ascetic pilgrim (when in fact he's more of a mooch), a contemporary character that would never - I think - have appeared in an India-set novel from the early 20th century. The conclusion may not satisfy all readers, and the final chapters may be a bit schematic, as the two women undergo similar experiences, but altogether H&D is an impressive work - and makes me want to read mor eof Jhabvala, particularly her short fiction.