The one problem with this well-written and well-structured book is that the main characters, save one, are not very likeable. It is a harsh novel, and the people are real people, and a good novelist—as Selvadurai is—has the knack of bringing you into sympathy with his mind-born creations in far fewer than 371 pages; and yet for me, at least, there is a spark missing. It would be different had I been gay. Most of my gay friends, too, have had harsh lives in one way or another, and bear the scars.