title: An Indian Summer:  A Personal Experience of India
author:  James Cameron 
description: Spine creased, page edges tanned. Shipped from the U.K. All orders received before 3pm sent that weekday.
zlib_text: 
  
  
  ## INTRODUCTION
  
  
  Sitting on my bookshelf in my east London study is a twenty-year-old and
  somewhat dog-eared copy of _The Perfect Murder_. Some of the pages are marked
  by my own all but illegible scribbles, others are crinkled by a combination of
  damp and rainwater; not just any rain, mind you, but honest-to-goodness
  monsoon rain. I bought the book from a roadside seller while living in Mumbai
  in my twenties, the sort of grinning, roadside sprite that is as much in
  evidence in H.R.F. Keating’s 1960s vision of India as he was in the India I
  found myself in. I’d gone there in 1997 to work as a management consultant,
  and ended up spending ten wonderful years ‘in-country’. My parents hailed from
  the subcontinent but I’d grown up in Thatcher’s Britain – all I knew of India
  came from hazy memories handed down to me by my father (he’d been
  unceremoniously shunted across the newly-created border to Pakistan as a child
  during Partition) and bits and pieces I’d gleaned from Bollywood movies.