Dated. But then again, I picked this up late (very, i know!) in an effort to play catch up. So, not the author's fault on that count. Otherwise, this one is written to a formula. Redundant, considering Naipaul and Co. already been there, done that. The language is good, but the content has a "made-up" feel to it, you know, the sort of license authors make full use of to invent situations for effect? (That's a put-off, that is. like, what are we? and does that even work any more?) The humor is forced, so it don't work at all. (Beg pardon if no attempt was made, to begin with. I may have misconstrued it.) From the title, I was hoping for a Ruskin Bondish jaunt across small town India; a light, easy, laid-back read, but I found myself wanting to put it away a couple of times - like I had reached my cut-off point - or waiting for it to get over so that I could move on to my next book. I mean, I am all for insights of the socio-political / economic variety but not the wannabe-intellectual kind, something too obvious or that has already been said. Not so much like it was all untrue as much as there was not enough depth and analysis. Too superficial to be any good. Travels in small town India: lovely idea indeed but the author could have gone easy on the cynicism perhaps and highlighted the rustic and the idyllic a tad more to indulge the vicarious reader (like i said, it was what i was looking for, assuming it to be that kind of a travelogue, unless it was never intended to be one). But, I get it. The man had a book to sell to the West. How else was he gonna do it back then? (or now, sadly, for that matter). But no alternative on the nothing new, what you gonna do? Suffice it to say, I didn't get much from it, but didn't lose too much either. That said, it's a small enough read, or an overlong newspaper article in the form of a book. Not too much damage done, and it was over before I could chuck it aside, half-read. One more for my Goodreads kitty! Happy about that. ( )