The characters are everyday Indians and Australians caught up in a shrinking, hybrid world, discovering that where they come from does not equip them for where they want to go; these are the stories of unsuccessful transitions. But it is precisely these uncertainties that eventually threaten to smother their development. Each character emerges more lost and more needful than before, straining to become three-dimensional, defined by what will not happen rather than what can happen, often ending up almost farcical.

V.S. Naipaul is known for his acerbic, unsentimental stories about India, but he almost always manages to maintain a subtle balance between appreciation for, and criticism of, his subject. As I sank deeper into this book, the untenability of the characters and their positions left me with the distinct feeling that Gallois was trying too hard to show too much, thereby leaving holes in the fabric of her characters. Read separately, most of these stories would fascinate and involve the reader because of their originality, but brought together as a collection, that same originality disappears. Like a brilliant note being sounded repeatedly, the result is monotone.