Henry James took on the subject of Americans in Europe. Theroux, the master travel writer, turns his eye to Americans in India in this trilogy of novellas about tourists overwhelmed and transformed by their sojourns. All settle into the lulling comfort of Indian sanctuary — a spa, a luxury hotel, an ashram — only to be drawn out of it by their conflicting desires. Theroux offers delicious observations, particularly on the rifts between language — the Indians' use of dusty British terms like "jocundity", for example. But running through this elegant triptych is the suggestion that Indian writers are unable to depict their own country truthfully. As a corrective, Theroux plays up the grimmer aspects — and if the author's misanthropy wasn't enough, wait till you get to the sex scenes.
