This very well put-together novel paints a romantic picture of colonial India during the Raj, even as it moves deftly between two Indias: 1923 and 1975. But I wouldn't call this novel 'superb' maybe because we've had so many wonderful examples of romances from the Raj since then, and better ones. While reading this I did feel a powerful nostalgia for Graham Greene - something in the book's tone and portrayal of the female protagonist Olivia who seems rather a flipperty-gibbet to me: backboneless, drab and not even aptly portrayed as a bored, pretentious, shallow housewife who's pretending to be smart and intellectually superior to the rest of the women in society in the provincial district town where her husband is a junior administrator. She reminds me of a bored American housewife from the 50s. Still, I consumed this book in 2 days, so its a convenient, short read, if that's what you're after.