The book was badly, awfully written. Most of the time I couldn't follow the dialogue, and I had to turn back a few pages to reread, because I'd realize I zoned off and didn't get a word that was written. The plot, likewise, wasn't so engaging. It felt like E.M. Forster had a one-time sojourn to India, saw the sights, and decided to write a book about it, creating a fictional plot that, sadly, miserably failed to hold up.
The characters had major problems, too. Dr. Aziz was a weak character for someone who's supposedly the main protagonist; I observed that he did not comport himself in a manner that befits his stature (or at least what one would expect from an educated person). Adela Quested was a presumptuous, crazy
But the good parts of the book couldn't compensate for the bad writing. (It really is.) If I hadn't been buddy-reading this with my TFG friend Angus, I would have been very tempted to discontinue reading. But I really don't like leaving books unfinished, so I suck it up and read until the end. I don't regret the apparent waste of time that I spent reading this book, but I rue the fact that, despite having given it a chance, it still disappointed me.