This was disappointing. I very much enjoyed The White Tiger, and have continued reading Adiga's work on the strength of that debut. But this is a far cry from that promising start.

The story here is about two brothers, Radha and Manju, who are raised by an abusive father who single-mindedly drives them to become star cricket players. (Not knowing anything about cricket is not a barrier to understanding the storyline, btw.). We watch these brothers as Selection Day approaches, the day when their cricket dreams will come true. But Radha, who has the desire to play, struggles with his cricket ability as time goes on. And Manju, the natural talent, is conflicted about his desire to play. That's the simplistic summary.

The real meat of this story should have surrounded the brothers' struggle with their father, who is likely mentally ill and both physically and sexually abusive. Or Manju's struggles with his sexuality in a country where homosexuality is illegal. Or the family's struggle with how to respond after Radha turns violent. But the book cautiously edges around all of these things.

Another reviewer described the book as offering up cricket as a microcosm for modern India, and I think that is a key theme, and maybe even an interesting one. The problem for me is that I don't want to read a 300-page metaphor. I'm happy for the metaphor to be part of it, but a novel also needs a good story with fully formed characters. But Adiga's insistence on only approaching the most serious issues sideways, and then running away from them (his characters often literally run away), just didn't cut it for me. I'm left with a not especially interesting story peopled with (almost all male) characters that were shallow and often one-dimensional. None of whom seem to take any significant lesson out of the journey.

I'm afraid this is the end of the road for me with this author.