Desai is a exceedingly comical writer whose assortment of columns collected in this book are at once highly entertaining and enlightening. I found his insights into India and Indian culture through his middle-class lens to be a useful way to explore current issues affecting India today. While much of this book is probably best understood by Indians living in India, I think there is a great deal one can learn from Desai's observations. He covers a wide variety of topics always in melodic metaphors: soap operas, cricket, corruption, food, marriage and family life, and the business world. Consider how he describes the role of the pickle: "The pickle exists to transform the dullness of other items on the plate with its own concentrated brilliance. It is stuffed with taste; and delivers more sensory thrills per square inch than almost any other food item. A little bit of it that one delicately bites into with the front of one's teeth is usually sufficient to make the taste buds squeal with delight. The pickle is the item number in the food platter that heightens the taste notes into a crescendo of pleasure" (112). Alternately, the way he poses questions about the way Indians react to India's advancement: "...we pine for Oscar recognition for our films, we cheer when an Indian company takes over a multinational, we root for Indian professionals to take over the reins of large multinational companies, we celebrate our IITs and IIMs which turn out world-class professionals, and we exult when we see more and more Indians appearing on the list of the world's richest people. In sort, as is natural perhaps anywhere in the world, we look towards the top when we think of good news about India. But are these really the best indices of progress we are making as a country? After all, Indians dong well abroad has nothing really to do with India, except in a symbolic and emotional way" (376). These are responses and questions that many countries around the world would do well to consider.
There are some aspects of his critique that I don't like: his use of modernism seems to be distorted; his notion of past and present as if in a perpetual dichotomy is also a bit troubling. At the same time, his analysis of the problems of language, for example the way in which Indian writers in English are glorified while writers in local languages lie in relative obscurity, is dead on. But he seems to skirt around the way in which internalized colonialism is related to this and various other phenomena he explores. Nevertheless, Desai's book is an enjoyable and thought provoking read.