Gods Without Men. By Hari Kunzru. Hamish Hamilton; 400 pages; £12.99. Published in America by Knopf; $26.95



THE desire to believe there is some order to life may be a fundamental human need. Hari Kunzru, a British novelist, explores this impulsive search for meaning in his ambitioius new novel, “Gods Without Men”. His fourth novel is a smart work of intertwined stories which consider the limits of culture and self, and the yearning for something beyond.

The story begins with a British-Indian man named Jaz Matharu and his American wife, Lisa, as they drive through the Mojave Desert to a geographical formation called the Pinnacle Rocks. They find a motel. They fight. They meet a British rock star. Then their four-year-old autistic son goes missing, and things get weird. Parallel narratives deal with a UFO cult, a crazed Mormon silver miner, an 18th-century missionary, an Iraqi refugee girl, and a methamphetamine lab, among other things.

The most compelling yarns involve Laila, the Iraqi refugee who is in the midst of a “goth phase”, and Dawn, a cult member. Dawn joins something known as Ashtar Galactic Command in 1970, “to be part of something bigger than herself”. The sections devoted to her are delightful. Some of the UFO cult gibberish can even be oddly appealing.

It is the privilege of novelists to write along a continuum that encompasses sages and wise men, stoners and lunatics. “Gods Without Men” is packed with such characters, and Mr Kunzru guides readers across cultures and centuries with verve and empathy. Novels about extremism are bound to contain some loopy bits, and some readers may find these passages unsettling. But Mr Kunzru is often at his best when writing about the bizarre and complicated concept of multiculturalism. Many will find this book an experience worth sharing.