Dhaliwal’s debut is certainly flashy but it’s pretty unpleasant too, and recalls numerous empty novels of disenfranchised frustration from Camus to Houllebecq. Like the latter, Dhaliwal is concerned with the enervating effects of contemporary society on the male individual, although Dhaliwal’s protagonists are excluded through their race as well as their gender.
‘Tourism’ follows a few months in the life of Bhupinder ‘Puppy’ Singh Johal as he floats around fashionable English society from country-house party to restaurant launch to photo shoot. Puppy’s contempt for whites gives rise to some nicely arch humour at their expense (of those who do yoga: ‘The West repeats itself in India as farce; India repeats itself in Westerners as tragedy’), while his amorality and spiritual vacuity form a resonant, but troubling, critique of society in general.
The novel rests on a foundation of cynicism and nihilism. Puppy’s friend Michael argues that ‘life is short and it’s full of shit’, and this emptiness underpins the actions of all the men in the novel. The only way to act, they feel, is selfishly and without love, to the extinction of all feelings for family, friends and religion. This is not a novel to love, and nor is it for the faint of heart, but Dahaliwal has quite a talent.
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1 comment
This book is exceptional. I agree partially with some of the points made in the above, but what most reviewers neglect to mention is that Dhaliwal manages to inject a profound sensitivity into the book. It isn't perhaps as brash as you'd think.