Hari Kunzru: Transmission

Reviewed by MARGIE THOMSON

Despite the opening pages of Kunzru's follow-up to The Impressionist, which whiz by in a chaos of cultural detail, techno-speak and the wild surging of the global economy, there are two simple, human images that stick in the mind - like tent pegs holding down a billowing canvas.

One is of "a figure, a walking man, trudging along the margin of a wide California highway." This is our "hero", nerdy, innocent, shy Arjun Mehta, a 23-year-old computer software specialist, and this lonely, desperate sighting of him comes as a predictable shock, one year after he excitedly accepted a job offer and left India for the land of his dreams only to discover, as have so many before him, that America's "magic" quickly expires.

The other comes right at book's end, and is of a couple kissing and holding hands. It's an image of happiness, and is a surprise, although a welcome one, as it seems to herald a triumph for innocence and happy endings (rather like the Bollywood plots that hilariously fill Arjun's imagination), and both throws into relief and undermines the cynicism and irony of the rest of the story.

So, while Kunzru is blatant, almost formulaic, about the points he wants to get across - the precariousness of globalisation and our perilously interconnected world, the sinister smoothness of the new Europe with its tendency towards "discreet violence", spreading cultural homogeneity, the emptiness of brand marketing - he nevertheless does it all with such panache, and with such a wonderful dance of characters and interweaving plots, that one can't help but be entranced.

As Arjun struggles along on the fringes of American culture, failing to understand that the girl he loves doesn't see things the same way, scarcely making enough money to live and yet lying to his family back home in New Delhi, he is counterbalanced by marketing entrepreneur Guy Swift, head of London branding agency Tomorrow*, and purveyor of conversational gambits such as: "Being in the in crowd is a question of attitude ..."

Sailing awfully close to hackneyed stereotype, Guy is nevertheless lovingly drawn, his pathos revealed in relentless revelations of both ego and insecurity. His position in the "in crowd" is not as assured as he would like, of course, and we plot his demise towards a surprising conclusion.

At the same time, we meet Guy's girlfriend Gabriella - beautiful, rich, dissatisfied - and she in turn leads us to Bollywood star Leela Zahir, whose sexy, violent co-star and overbearing mother are also both stereotypical yet somehow deliciously inevitable. Leela's own unhappiness and vulnerability are apparent from the beginning.

What links this disparate cast is Arjun himself (Arjun, who's about to lose his job and in desperation creates a virus, the "Leela strain", based on a dancing image of his favourite actress, which he plans on "solving", thereby rescuing his career, only to have everything blow up in his face) and the virtual interconnectedness of all things - the realities of "transmission" itself.

With its keynote of desperation, its 21st-century worldliness yet its enticing touches of innocence, this is a story that will snare you in a most old-fashioned way. Little guy, impossible odds, pretty girl, passionate writing ... an old story, but very much one for our time.

Hamish Hamilton, $35