The adage is that the book is always better. Now I'm enough of a realist that I recognise that this isn't always true, but in this case I found the book because of the soon-to-be-released film, so hey, it's all good. "The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel" with the astounding cast list including Judy Dench, Bill Nighy, Tom Wilkinson, Penelope Wilton and Celia Imrie, is due for release in the UK next month, and the trailer sent me hunting.

Looks awesome, and I cant wait for worldwide release. But in the meantime we have the book which is fantastic in it's own right, although not as much of a giggle-fest as the film looks to be. I find that sort of thing doesn't work as well in text anyway. Moggach's writing is light and easy, although this is definitely one for more mature audiences. Somehow I doubt many people under thirty would appreciate this one.

We start off in London, where an overworked doctor of Indian extraction is driven to exasperation when his grotesque father-in-law moves back in with him and his wife. She hunts madly for a new "Home" for him, but at this rate they've all heard of him and wont take the old lecher on. One visit from a wheeler-dealer relative from Bangalore later and an idea is born. And so Dunroamin, an ageing hotel leftover from the days of the Raj shifts from low end B&B to a residence hotel catering to elderly Britons. Lured by the low cost of living, the residents learn to deal with new people, a new culture, and manage to wake themselves from the lethargy of being alone too much.

The contrast is drawn subtly, between the pictures of elderly invalids who transform back into real people with nothing more than sunshine and social interaction. But the neglect of the parents by their children is not the whole story Moggach is telling. In the interactions with their adult children, the message is clear... we neglect our parents needs because we're neglecting our own.

In the insanity of modern life we struggle for the material things. Private schools and soccer lessons, the newest designer handbags and Apple's latest toys. We work so hard to keep up with the Joneses that we're too distracted to realise what's going on inside ourselves. So we go to Yoga and have affairs, trying to fill the gap and never realise what we're missing is the connection each other. We're lonely because in the rat race the other rats are competition, not family... even when you're sleeping with them.