I like quiet books, ones that unsettle, get under your skin unseen, unnoticed. Mohsin Hamid's second novel is a story simply and subtly told, yet with no absence of pace and tension. Voice is probably the single most important factor for me when reading - can I trust it, give in to it? Is it compelling, plausible? Does it make me forget I'm reading? - and that is the case here. Themes of love and loss abound, but mostly this is a story about cultural identity and its blurring. I've considered for days whether the author pulled off a satisfactory denouement; I think he did, just. See what you think; at a little over 200 pages, you'll read it in a few days.