The India you want to read about

In her novel about adoption in India, Barr reveals that she understands our subcontinent perfectly

by Emily Barr, published by Hachette

Price: Rs 295
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OVER the years, we've read books based in India and they've invariably made our country look like a kind of freak show where the natives are strange and unpredictable and all kinds of unimaginable adventures can happen to the very brave people who dare to enter.

From Rudyard Kipling to E M Forster, John Masters, Paul Scott and more recently Tim Parks and Clare Jay, it's always been "us" and "them". This influence or should I call it a tradition was so bad that when Indians started writing in English, we tended to be self-conscious and apologetic about our culture and the everyday things that surround us and that we should really take for granted.

I think the cut-off point was around the time Pankaj Mishra turned his nose up at people who use tablecloths made of plastic lace (in Butter Chicken in Ludhiana), because after that (though perhaps not particularly because of it), many of our writers gradually became more comfortable with who we are and what we do.

A sticker on this book, which describes it as "An edgy, insightful story about modern India", had me anticipating a plot involving trendy hyperactive software "whizkids" living it up in glitzy malls and discos.

This put me in a nasty mood, which deepened as I read about Tansy Harris, who has two perfect little sons and a handsome husband with a highly-paid, successful job, feels weepy and disoriented, boozes it up to soothe herself, and in a particularly weak moment somehow lands up kissing Mr Trelawney.

He's hot and all but for heaven's sake, he's her son's teacher. ("Nothing wrong with her that a few good slaps won't cure," is what I thought disgustedly to myself.)

However, as the book proceeded, I lost myself in the story and soon Tansy had become this wonderful, wise person and I had begun to believe that she was real because she reminded me of some of my really good friends.

Emily Barr is so comfortable in India that she doesn't need to be patronising or over-familiar. Her story shows that she knows and understands India well: the tourist places; the food, sights and smells of the cities; the functioning of our basic icons poverty and corruption. When locals with a depth of knowledge and culture appear in her story, they do so without a fuss and not in an "Oh wow, how amazing, they have knowledgeable and cultured people in India!" way. She even has Tansy learn to tell when someone is speaking with a "posh Indian accent". (I wish Heathrow would hire her to train their staff to spot it too since I'm quite tired of being treated like an illiterate baboon every time I pass through.)

The central theme of this book is adoption and the way it is handled in India. Various aspects of it the plight of orphaned children, the different types of people who want to adopt, the emotional and legal aspects are woven into the story.

Here again, Emily Barr understands the solid, impeccable systems well and their often mindlessly bureaucratic, or incompetent implementation.

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