As someone who enjoys traveling, and who also enjoys the idea of traveling, I found Galgut's work to be both brutally honest, and deeply disturbing.
Galgut's South African narrator (who may or may not be Galgut himself) recalls three different episodes of travel in his life, taking him through Europe, India and Africa. But while he is able to negotiate his way across countries' borders, he finds himself unable to engage meaningfully with others.
Parts of his travels unfold like psychological thrillers, a la Ian McEwan. However, where McEwan's writing is unfailingly beautiful, Galgut's is bleak. In tone, the writing reminded me of Camus's The Stranger, which also explores the theme of alienation. However, Damon's failure to connect with others is perhaps even more disquieting because he has tried (and failed) repeatedly.
I found this book impossible to put down, even though I can hardly say I enjoyed the experience of reading it.