Vikram Seth's on Desert Island Disks and the introduction's talked only about A Suitable Boy as if The Golden Gate never happened.
Pro tip: everyone I know who's read The Golden Gate has tried writing iambic tetrameters. Example:
John looks downwards, as if admonished,
Then slowly lifts his head, and sighs.
Half fearfully and half astonished,
They look into each other’s eyes.
The waiter, bearded, burly, macho,
Says, “Madam, though it’s cold, gazpacho
Is what I’d recommend. Noisettes
Of lamb, perhaps, or mignonettes
Of veal to follow….” Unavailing
Are his suggestions. Nothing sinks
Into their ears. “Ah, well,” he thinks,
“They’re moonstruck. It’ll be plain sailing.
Lovers, despite delays and slips
And rotten service, leave large tips.”
Not everyone likes the idea of a novel in verse, mind you:
An editor at a plush party
(Well-wined, -provisioned, speechy, hearty)
Hosted by (long live!) Thomas Cook
Where my Tibetan travel book
Was honored – seized my arm: “Dear fellow,
What’s your next work?” “A novel…” “Great!
We hope that you, dear Mr Seth – ”
“In verse”, I added. He turned yellow.
"How marvelously quaint,” he said,
And subsequently cut me dead.
Note, incidentally, the rhyming of his surname. That's how it's pronounced. He does it several times in the book.