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Don’t be fooled by the cover – the seductive Kama Sutra consort reaching backwards from her lover in ecstasy is no indication of how you will feel after you have slogged your way through this travelogue. It will more likely leave you feeling grumpy and unsatisfied.

This is Melbourne-born Trisha Bernard’s 27^th book. The 26 previous titles were all written for young adults, and this her first foray into adult writing. Unfortunately the transition isn’t particularly successful.

The book follows Bernard’s autobiographical travels with her flippant British friend Sally as they traverse India, both single and recently emerging from break-ups. However, unlike recent novels like Elizabeth Gilbert’s brilliant Eat, Pray, Love (which sees the protagonist travel across Italy, India, and Bali in search of healing her heart with hilarious wit and profound storytelling), With the Kama Sutra Under My Arm is completely lacking in character development and plot. Bernard and her friend go to the tourist sites, giving accounts on their history and then ridiculing everyone and everything that comes their way. At times it’s witty and entertaining – but ultimately the frenetic pace, the jokes at the end of every paragraph, and the superficial storytelling leaves one feeling utterly exhausted.

In the overabundant market of travel books, readers are looking for more than just a tour guide telling them about their travels. We are looking for insight into cultures and, at the very least, some compelling prose.

As for the promise of sex and misadventures? The Kama Sutra bit seems to have been thrown in as an afterthought, perhaps at the suggestion of a smart marketing executive. Aside from a few times when the two ladies sit in their hotel rooms and try out a few poses with their pillows, this book has an overriding drought of love and lust. Florence Ng