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Wendy SmithNalini Jones's tender portraits of Catholic, English-speaking Indians living in Santa Clara, an affluent suburb of Mumbai, are so vividly rendered that you can practically smell the frying oil laced with masala and onions. Like Chekhov—and this young writer is good enough to merit the comparison—Jones has faith in details. She knows that a stained dress hidden in the garbage or a burnt pan stubbornly reused reveal more than would explanations from an omniscient narrator…In each story, she enters her characters' hearts and minds so that readers may directly experience their conflicts, confusion, hopes and fears. Underneath these particulars, skillfully arranged to help us toward quiet truths, we always sense the organizing intelligence and compassion of an author who invites us to understand rather than to judge.
—The Washington Post