The next time I was up at the cabin I read Beach Boy, by Ardashir Vakil (Hamish Hamilton), an orange book that caught my eye on the New Arrivals rack at my local library. The book's narrator is a precocious eight-year-old named Cyrus Readymoney, whose energy and curiosity fuel his intense investigations of his neighbourhood and other parts of Bombay. Cyrus spends little time in his own predictable house, preferring to infiltrate himself into his neighbours' families, as he tries to figure out what life is all about. While he eats their food, sleeps in their beds, takes part in their quarrels, accompanies them on holidays, walks their dogs and even shares their dreams (until one of the adults finally sends him home), we get to remember our own eight-year-old selves. The young boy's energy keeps the story moving right along, and Vakil has captured Cyrus's eight-year-old essence so perfectly that I could remember being there, even though I was much too timid to be like Cyrus, and I grew up several continents away from India.