Racist ranting of a self-absorbed cow.

Firstly the cover is offensive, so is the title. Being western, i do not expect her to have an understanding or appreciation of an eastern culture and even if it was meant satirically, she failed.
I was not impressed with the contents of the book, she comes across as ignorant and perpetuates the stereotype of white girl in an eastern country and not know what is going on, so make a huge joke of it all.

I've read some bad reviews of this book, and therefore have put it off. But I decided I should finally give it a go. And it started off as bad as I expected. An entitled, white, Australian heading to India and bitching and moaning the whole way.

I missed Sarah on radio, as I was at school while her program was on Triple J. So I caught every other show on radio, except the 9am-12pm slot. Maybe that would have endeared me to her before reading this book, because she needs all the help she can get to make it through those first chapters.

However, in a nod to character development, Sarah agrees, she's been a dick. I mean, she nearly dies to work it out. But props girl, you got there.

So she decides her way to get over India, is to learn about their religions (while doing sneaky ABC stories and name drops along the way). And fair enough, the place is dripping in fascinating religions. It is rare you can visit Zoroastrians, Hindus, Jews, Catholics, Muslims, Jains, and Buddhists in the same country. And they are all fascinating.

Except if you have learnt bits about them before, and notice the factual inconsistencies. Which are sprinkled throughout the book. Along with ridiculous characters you don't want to hear more about, and the superficial dealings with those who sound like fascinating characters who are a little below the notice of our author.

Look, in the scheme of things, it wasn't terrible. I learnt things, which I will take with a grain of salt and research more. She grows as a character, which she needed to. It's a 2.5 star read. I just wish she had done the stereotypical Aussie week in Bali and saved us all the trouble.

My favourite passage from the book:

I feel like an idiot. I've been talking a language that died with the British Raj. When I thought I was asking a taxi driver to take me somewhere I was really saying, 'Kind sir, would thou mind perhaps taking me on a journey to this shop and I'd be offering you recompense of this many rupees to do so, thank you frightfully humbly.' And I've been greeting filthy naked street urchins with, 'Excuse me, o soul one, but I'm dreadfully sorry, I don't appear to have any change, my most humble of apologies.'

I have to admit that I decided to read this book because it has a great cover. I should have peeked a bit inside, though, because the cliched chapter titles would have kept me away: Insane in the Membrane, Birds of a Feather Become Extinct Together, etc.

Basically, this is the memoir of a selfish Australian woman's year in India. She sees India as a filthy place full of disgusting people with intolerable cultural habits. And she spends her free time (while her husband is working in other cities or countries on news stories) traveling around India in search of religion. She seems to have a disdain for religion at the same time she seeks out religious celebrities and empty religious experiences.

Perhaps I have negative feelings about the author's view of India because, when I was in India, all I felt was compassion and sadness for the poor around me. What type of person sees poverty and is disgusted by it? I guess it's this type of selfishness that also keeps her from giving a face and a personality to her husband in her writings.

Edit: I much more prefer the attitude of the writer in this article concerning India: http://www.bbc.com/travel/story/20150...

I liked the first half of this book - about the author's culture shock, etc when she moved to India. It had a negative tone, but I think that was part of her culture shock. But the second half of the book reminded me a lot of Eat Love Pray, yet not as good. She goes on a "spiritual journey" to discover the religions of India and it was really boring. Plus, I really think she made so many generalizations about the diverse religions of India that it was meaningless. She writes as if she truly knows or experienced a religion just because she went to one of their ceremonies and met a few people.

The first third of the book is fantastical poverty porn and reads like slumdog Borat attends Ripley's! There are lepers begging at the airport, ash-smeared naked aghoris at traffic signals in central Delhi, earthquakes that claimed hundreds and yet 'hardly is in the news' because it's common in India, Apollo is 'the only good hospital in New Delhi' but is 'half a city away' and has a 'For Poor People' special entrance, her boyfriend has to stay with her in her hospital room since rapes are very common in Indian hospitals, hijackings, dead cows, dowry deaths, female infanticide, child marriage, girls not allowed into schools, vomit, urination, pollution, population, brown skin, phlegm, crowds, beggars, astrologers, green goo, paan, etc. Her "you know what, I am in a strange foreign land where everything is strange, so up your's" narrative is one where anything strange (and only strange) that may have happened is mentioned (a model shot dead in an illegal bar, a superstar hitting his actress girlfriend, a monkey causing panic in Delhi, etc). Crass, cheap, voyeuristic, patronising, and just plain fantasy.

The rest of the book, though better in terms of content, still suffers from her over-the-top recital. Every hotel she checks into is filthy and without water or power or both, trains and flights always seem like crashing; all Muslims, Buddhists, Sikhs and Christians she meets seem to be unhappy with India and either want a separate state or join Pakistan or China. Indians are very shy about public displays of affection, the parental bond is very strong, social mores are very critical, the traditions are strange, there are festivals of colours and lights, wedding rituals and last rites, all of which seem very eccentric and queer.

It's called a different culture, goddammit!

As mentioned, the book does become better in terms of content once she starts actually living in India, as she transforms from tourist to resident, and as she starts trying to experience and understand the religions, the spirituality and the people. The hyper voiced news reporting morphs into some decent long-form narrative journalism. She visits, experiences, lives with and learns about Vipassana in Dharamsala, Sikhism in Amritsar, Islam in Kashmir, Kumbh Mela in Allahabad, Buddhism in Dharamsala, Judaism with Israeli backpackers, Zoroastrianism with Parsis in Bombay, "Amma" Mata Amritanandamayi, Sathya Sai Baba, Our Lady of Velankanni, Mother ashram in Pondicherry, Sufism in Pakistan and some Jainism. She learns from Buddhism about controlling the mind, from Hinduism about respecting other paths, from Islam about surrender, from Jainism to make peace in all aspects of life, and from Sikhism about the importance of spiritual strength.

Sarah Macdonald does end the book with the expectedly patronising lines on how much she has changed as a person, how she's realised how much privileged she is, how much she's learnt and irrespective of how exasperating India is, she feels a force pulling her and somehow India feels like home for the soul. However cynical that may make one feel, one does get the feeling that she's really had a life changing transformative experience and the changing narrative of the book is a reflection of how she's actually growing as a person over the course of the book. And for just that, she gets an extra star.

I've always been fascinated with India, so I was excited about this book, but it ended up making me think twice about whether or not I wanted to visit. I've always thought of it as a fascinating place with beautiful things and people, and this definitely disabused me of any wrong notions. The author didn't always seem super likable, but in the same way India grew on her, she grew on me, and I found myself enjoying them both in the end.

I was recommended this title after I told someone we're going to India this fall. But if anything, this book has made me a bit paranoid to go! From Macdonald's descriptions, I now expect to be food poisoned, groped, ogled, and be sweaty and uncomfortable and dealing with horrendous crowds and traffic the entire time... Whose idea was this trip???

Macdonald did come to make good friends and gained a new appreciation for the country, and this was a fun read.

Am I being way too sensitive or does Macdonald really come across as a self-entitled patronising WASP who makes no apologies for damning India as dirty, disgusting and puerile? I'd like to think that travel memoirs have moved on since this was published in 2002, but even so, Mcdonald's "adventure" makes for a cringeworthy read. There's not a great deal of compassion nor empathy in her anecdotes; just bucketloads of white privilege.

Here's someone trying to pass more dung than the cow! I would give this book a negative rating, if I could. Such a shallow portrayal of a magnificent country like India! Filled with all the usual cliches about India (the dirt, the dust, the flies...), and lots of religion thrown in, which the author mocks at every single time. I agree there are elements of truth in this, but having said that, there are several beautiful aspects of India which are just skimmed over or totally ignored. Whiny, arrogant, and snooty- that's how this utter waste of a book came across to me. Ugh, wouldn't recommend this to anyone!

P.S: If you insist on reading a so-called 'outsider' perspective of India, read William Dalrymple or Mark Tully, both of whom have made great efforts to actually understand the country.

As an American who has been living in Delhi for the past 8 months, I thought this would be a fun book to read. Talking to other Westerners who live in India is always entertaining because we can complain and discuss things that the people living here are not bothered by. The first ten pages of this book were spot on, the book seemed funny and mentioned many of the things that bother all Westerners that live here. The further I read, however, I noticed that almost every event that took place in this book was a remarkable coincidence. Between Christmas and New Years, she seemed to have experienced every single negative circumstance possible in India. There is no way this book is even remotely true. Exaggerated would not even begin to describe how incorrect it is. All the characters and events are created simply to make India look as ridiculous, inefficient and dirty as possible. She complains about absolutely everything and finds fault with every single aspect about India. Good experiences are very briefly written about, while bad ones are described in unnecessary detail. As I am reading this book while riding the insanely over-crowded, noisy Delhi Metro Train, I will say that yes, there are certainly many things for Westerns to complain about when coming to India. It is truly a different world. But India is a fantastic country with incredibly friendly people, amazing culture and so much to experience. The author makes a mockery of India. This place is certainly not for everyone, but please do not believe the nonsense in this book. It was difficult for me to finish, as the book drags on, it becomes more and more a racist, self indulgent rant by a whiny woman who had too much time on her hands while she was living in India.