Really a collection of two essays, this short book exercised parts of my brain long dormant. Roy's writing is extraordinary, infused with sly humour and aching beauty. She does not stoop to write for the uninformed - in the era of Google, where even forest revolutionaries huddle around laptops to watch video footage - Roy declines to spell out concepts such as Ghandian or Naxalite, easily looked up in Wikipedia. The result highlights how easy it is as a westerner to assume your world is everyone else's too. Roy knows and understands the Marxist left, which should not be mistaken for being part of it. She celebrates the strength of the Maoists without patronisation, and just as effortlessly skewers the aspects which frustrate her. "Chairman Mao. He's here too. A little lonely perhaps, but present. There's a photograph of him, up on a red cloth screen."
The second essay reads like an elaboration of Roy's views on Indian politics, while the first is simply - and do not confuse this with merely - an exploration of the phemonenon of the maoist involvement with the adivasis. Roy manages to write with certainty but without egoism or false authority. Roy has such respect for people, including those in parties and movements, that the book is both insightful and pleasurable to read.