From The Independent:
Towards the end of this debut novel, its voluble, digressive, murderous protagonist makes a prediction: “White men will be finished in my lifetime,” he tells us. “In 20 years time it will just be us brown and yellow men at the top of the pyramid, and we’ll rule the world.” He’s talking about the phenomenon at the heart of this dazzling narrative: the emergence of that much-heralded economic powerhouse, the “new India”. You have, no doubt, read about it. In fact, you may have done so courtesy of Aravind Adiga, who is Time magazine’s Asia correspondent. But with The White Tiger, Adiga sets out to show us a part of this emerging country that we hear about infrequently: its underbelly. We see through the eyes of Balram, who was born into the “darkness” of rural India, but entered the light that is Delhi via a job as driver to Mr Ashok, the son of a rich landlord. Now, though, Balram has escaped servitude and is himself a rich businessman. What’s more, his unlikely journey involved a murder.
The result is an Indian novel that explodes the clichés – ornamental prose, the scent of saffron – associated with that phrase. Welcome, instead, to an India where Microsoft call-centre workers tread the same pavement as beggars who burn street rubbish for warmth. Adiga’s whimsical conceit is to give us Balram’s story via seven letters to the Chinese prime minister, who, Balram has decided, must be told the truth about India before a forthcoming state visit. So Balram begins: he tells of Delhi’s servants, who live in rotting basements below the glass apartment blocks that are home to their employers. He tells of how Ashok’s family bribe government ministers, and how national elections are rigged. Ashok, trendy and liberal, is forever expressing guilt over Balram’s treatment, but his fine words never come to anything.