Three twenty-something almost-friends from New Zealand decide to go on a road trip through Francophone West Africa (Morocco to Ghana). Or at least two of them do, deciding to invite the third only because they feel they have to. But to their surprise he accepts. The three reach Cairo and the bitching begins. Oh and what bitching and bickering. One friend, called “Mitya” for the novel (we are told he is really James or something like that) is a fundamental Christian and a lawyer, another, “Ivan” for the novel is a performative liberal but just as much a bore as Mitya, and the third, who narrates the novel, is simply “I” and he is of Sri Lankan heritage. So two whities and one who is not. The three can’t help feeling all of the dislocation, judgementalism, reflexive suspicion, alienation and discomfort of being privileged by birth among those who are anything but by theirs. They can’t help their racism too, even the member of Sri Lankan parentage. He, who is always treated just a bit differently by the locals, experiences it in return (and also from his traveling companions and other tourists). But it is he who relates best to the locals as people. Boy, this is a realistic portrayal of the experience of first-worlders travelling in the third world. We are also treated to the vacuities of the conversations and interactions among the tourists themselves, especially when they spend a few days together at a beach resort in Ghana. I didn’t want this oh-so-realistic book to end. But having read "Sprigs" first, it is clearly something of a training exercise, writing wise, for that.