A somewhat winding and wandering view of race, class, and sex in England. Perches at the border of realism and satire, with a protagonist (Karim) who is little more than a floater between spheres, observing people as they suffer in extravagantly complex ways. No good thing in this book is unspoiled, no bad thing without its silver lining. In this way it feels to exist mostly in limbo, with every moment both monumental and inconsequential. Side characters make some pretty stirring arguments against capitalism and racism, while Karim ultimately ignores it all, neither succeeding greatly or failing significantly. I didn't hate this book, nor would I necessarily sing its praises, but that seems to be right where it is content to sit and I respect it for that.