But Ramkissoon, the mastermind of this scheme, is not everything he seems. Netherland is written from the perspective of stock analyst and weekend cricketeer, Hans van den Broek, a hopelessly passive spectator on his own life, who is charmed by these plans, but soon discovers unsavory sides to his new friend. In short, not everything about Ramkissoon is quite cricket, as they say.

Van den Broek's own life is in disarray. His wife leaves him, and moves with their only son to London. He has no close friends, and spends his time with oddball neighbors, most notably a strange Turkish man who likes who dress up like an angel, wings and all. In the great tradition of American narrators, from Nick Carraway (in The Great Gatsby) to Augie March, Hans get swept away by the dreams of others, ignoring all the warning signs that a more skeptical participant (not to mention the readers themselves) would quickly observe.

As a result, the great cricket novel gradually turns into something darker and more multi-layered. Van den Broek drifts apart from his friend and decides to move to London, and though he is rewarded by renewed hopes for his marriage, he continues to wonder about his cricket-loving companion. Ramkissoon, for his part, gets caught up in a downward spiral. A sports novel seems to be turning into a crime story.

Yet our novelist is cagey and never provides us with all the details. Chuck Ramkissoon will eventually disappear from the book's page, leaving behind many unanswered questions. Yet he is a brilliantly conceived character, and his presence alone gives life to a novel that, without this one spark, might strike most of us Yanks as more tedious than a three day test match.