[Mrs. Jhabvala, in A Backward Place,] has not the sustained brilliance that Jane Austen often rises to; and she cannot quite manage that astonishing bite and attack. All the same her many excellent qualities are nearly all Austenish ones, and they make her a most interesting and satisfactory writer.

Mrs. Jhabvala can supply one ingredient quite outside Jane Austen's repertoire: an exotic, colourful background which she touches in with swift, sure strokes….

[The] scenery of the novel is never allowed to be more than the discreetest, most unobtrusive of backgrounds. Always well to the fore are the little groups of characters. Bal, the aspirant film-actor with a gift for unemployment, his English wife Judy, his brother and sister-in-law and his devout aunt Bhuaji form one cluster. Then there are the expatriates….

Mrs. Jhabvala examines her various little character-groups, in a quiet, well-behaved, observant way. She works through the medium of many short scenes. There is no sweep, no undertow. Her effects are achieved by piecemeal accumulation. Gradually they mount up into something impressive—lucid, controlled, eschewing commentary, unsparing in delineation of human foible and yet understanding.

The story is about Bal's yearning for the cinematic fleshpots of Bombay, and about how, after Etta has taunted him about his willingness to live on Judy's earnings, he stiffens his resolution and goes there, taking the family with him and using Judy's savings to pay the train-fare; but the narrative itself is of little importance. It is a tenuous thing, strong enough to give the shrewd social comedy enough momentum to carry it through to a conclusion—none the less satisfactory because muted questions are left like vultures in an Indian sky.