Stephen Alter's marvelous book is reminiscent of fine nineteenth century travel writing in which the writer, in lucid, and sometimes poetic, style brings the reader with him to see and experience things most people never would otherwise. His credentials are impeccable: the son of missionaries who was raised in northern India, fluent in Hindi and conversant in other Indian languages and possessed of an encyclopedic knowledge of the flora and fauna of the region. A non believer, he traces the steps of an ancient pilgrimage, feeling the spiritual attraction of the place while wryly commenting on the religious hypocrisy he encounters along the way. For all of its gifts it is the writing that commends this fine book. For the author's wise and seasoned view of the world and understatement of the rigors of his journey I would compare it to Bruce Chatwin's, In Patagonia.

Having gone to Woodstock School as well, albeit, many years later (1976-1983) this book was a trip down memory lane for me. It was interesting to see how many things had not changded and that the Author's and my experiences and memories ran parallel. The dust and the heat of the plains are vividly described triggering bittersweet memories of the discomfort. It was interesting to compare and contrast the different perspectives of an American "mish-kid" growing up in India with my own perspective of an Indian boy attending Woodstock School. The author vividly paints a beautiful verbal mural of Mussoorie: describing the incessant monsoon rains, the lush hillside, the species of insects and birds, the breathtaking vistas of the snow-capped mountains to the north. He also succeeds in bringing back to life many things I had forgotten. The thrill of getting a brand new "customized" top at the topwallahs; the acrid atmosphere during the pre-monsoon as the hillsides erupted into flames; the hunger pangs we experienced each time we passed the "mithaiwallah" in the bazaar, hoping for a little treat to offset the bland concoctions we were served at school; the thrill of playing games on the Mount at Ridgewood; and so many more wonderful images. The events detailed are wonderful, however; I wish he would have written more of an introspective autobiography. A definite reccommendation for all of us who hold Mussoorie and Woodstock School close in our hearts.

A touching and accurate account of an Indian hill station. The interplay of relationships in a sometimes lonely yet happy place is well described. The dynamics of change in a different culture from a secure, simple way of life to one of more complexity is pleasantly stated. The events of summer with its monsoon rains, bringing out the bugs in such marvelous diversity to the dust and dirt of the plains illustrates the real India. Even some of the more baser elements of those times are humorously brought out. A well done delightful description.