This reviewer of Hindoo Holiday appears to me to mistake for style what is merely the usual Indian reality. The writer's prince is zany, but then so are most your interlocutors in India; besides, seeing a naked man armed with a spear is not nearly as odds-off there as it is wherever the reviewer comes from. (Kansas?) I have only spent 18 months in India, and yet have seen several naked armed men; indeed, it was the sheer ordinariness of the naked-armed-with-spear business which convinced me not to write an India travelogue -- it's simply too easy to slip into an endless catalog of the merely weird.
Perhaps one day I will write something about my stay in India. When I do, I will be meaning to write about the ways in which India has changed me and will skip the naked-with-spear and the my-grandma-poisoned-my-grandpa stuff. One's encounter with India can really be a lot more profound than the campy gossipiness of this book, but that takes time, commitment and brains; and the time, at any rate, seems to have been short in this case.
And it usually is. Says authoritatively a character in Wharton's Age of Innocence: "You need three weeks to do India properly." Quite.