It seems that it is difficult to write a south Asian novel, especially one written by an expatriate without asking the extraneous questions about exile and memory, politics and individual life histories, some implications of sexual and ideological preferences and the meaning of it all. If the extraneous questions, which are also seen to be larger and necessary questions, are not raised, the story would not hold. The novel is likely to sink because there is not much holding it. Shyam Selvadurai’s novel makes sense only if the South Asian, expatriate, English-speaking status is given due weight.