This 343-pg medium-fat-boy comes with plenty of surface sass and shiny digit-beads. Sure, it's kind of readable, (slong as u in't expectin a deep Joyce Ulysses type multi-level PDA)
It바카라™s intriguing fun when you flip open the thing and dial up the first few pages: the language is rough, direct and straight from the mouths of West London desi delinquent youth: "Shudn바카라™t b callin us Pakis, innit u dirrty gora." Growls one Hardjit as he turns a white kid바카라™s face into keema without sullying his new sneakers, "Hear wat my bredren b sayin, sala kutta? Come out wid dat shit again n I바카라™ma knock u so hard u바카라™ll b shittin out yo mouth 4 real..." This semi-text, quasi-Afro-Carib, baghaaroed with Punjabi gaalis and 바카라˜kuddiyaans바카라™ and 바카라˜munde바카라™, is in the narrative too, not just in the dialogue.
So fa so gud, but the plot is a well-worn one: a gang of (desi) violent teens from the burbs, into brutishness and petty crime, meet up with a proper villain who lives well posh; he바카라™s very interested in the fact that the boys deal a lot with stolen cellphones and he shows them a good time and makes them an offer they don바카라™t refuse... and then they get to know what바카라™s really what in life, like. The narrator, Jas, is the weakest, wussest, of the lot, but he knows long words and, natch, he once had a future: if he바카라™d studied hard he could of gone to a uni like Oxford or Cambridge, innit; then there is even a liberal gora teacher who won바카라™t 바카라˜give up바카라™ on this gang of thugs, and then, of course, there is/are the boys바카라™ families, Hindu and Sikh, straight out of Central Casting (South Asian) at Ealing Studios.
But, here바카라™s the bad news바카라”the Bang-4-Bucks ratio on this instrument leaves much to be desired. Sure, it바카라™s kind of readable, (slong as u in바카라™t expectin a deep Joyce Ulysses type multi-level PDA).