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14 of 14 people found the following review helpful:
4.0 out of 5 stars
An exhilirating, bumpy ride, December 4, 1998
By A Customer
Sir Vidia's Shadow contains all the queasy excitement of Theroux's trademark train trips, but this time we're clattering along with him over 30 years of friendship with VS Naipaul -- and bumpy ones at that. We get several books here: first, the Theroux travel book. Readers who complain of Theroux's crankiness will find his loving descriptions of Uganda (where "even the crops were pretty") refreshing. Second, we get a minutely detailed book about the writing life. There is Naipaul the perfectionist demanding an explanation for each word in an early Theroux essay, weeding out every piece of obfuscating extra baggage. My favorite anecdote concerns the memorable first sentence of Naipaul's Bend in the River ; anyone who has savoured this quintessential Naipaulism will be enlightened on the subject of tedious re-drafting and the editor's role in all good writing. Then there is the book about Naipaul himself: I can't imagine that anyone who's read and enjoyed Naipaul will be too offended -- or even much surprised -- by Theroux's portrait. The neurotic obsession with food and hygiene, the fear of "the bush", the ever-deepening melancholy and misanthropy, the overcompensations and fears of a "barefoot colonial" -- Naipaul himself has given us all this in his novels and travelogues. Theroux reveals this side, but also unexpected glimpses of Naipaul's kindness (especially as mentor to PT), self-doubt, childish good humor (Naipaul singing calypsos!) and even physical bravery (Naipaul fending off wild dogs in Kampala). It would be easy to turn Naipaul into a "character" (Naipaul loathes "characters"), and Theroux never stoops to this. I certainly think no less of Naipaul as a writer, and now understand his writing and motivations more clearly. There are certainly other Naipaul's -- we all reinvent ourselves for different people -- but here we get Theroux's Naipaul, and it is a fascinating, albeit troublesome portrait. Finally, we get a book which takes us through the entire course of a friendship. Theroux ends the book in shrill and often unfair condemnation of Naipaul (one cannot easily dismiss the writer who gave us Mr Biswas or Bend in the River), but such is the aftermath of many meaningful friendships which die. At one point, Theroux advises Naipaul to return to a land he visited and write with a perspective freshened by time. In the same way, perhaps we will get another look at Naipaul from Theroux's perspective after the wound has set. In any case, SVS is far more substantial than the literary cat-fight which we might have expected from the early press releases.
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11 of 11 people found the following review helpful:
4.0 out of 5 stars
"I had admired his talent. After a while, I admired nothing else [about him]. Finally, I began to wonder about his talent.", August 16, 2008
What began as a mentoring relationship between established novelist V. S. Naipaul and Paul Theroux, a young writer working on his first novel, went on to endure as a "friendship" for thirty years as both writers traveled the world but remained in touch. They met when Theroux was a young ex-Peace Corp worker teaching in Uganda at the university in Makerere in 1966, and Naipaul, nine years his senior, became "writer-in-residence" there, though Naipaul hated teaching and mocked the writing of his students and the Makerere faculty. He did, however, recognize Theroux's talent, and he did help and encourage him to get his novel published. Theroux, in turn, was an astute reader of Naipaul's work, and both benefited from the relationship, at least at first.
From 1967 - 1977, Theroux published ten successful novels and short story collections, all of which Theroux describes in this book, and all were praised, at least privately, by Naipaul. Somewhat less attention is paid here to the almost equal number of works published by Naipaul, some of which Theroux read and helped proofread. A crusty, critical, and often cruel man, full of contradictions, Naipaul was a difficult "friend," and when he decided that he did not like someone, there was no turning back, no forgiveness for human failings. Theroux managed to navigate that minefield of hostility for thirty years.
In fact, shortly before the first of Naipaul's novels was published in the United States, Theroux (in 1972) wrote an introductory biography and critical assessment of Naipaul's work, full of praise for Naipaul, and helped to create an audience for Naipaul's work in the United States. After this somewhat effusive work was published, however, Theroux refused further interviews or commentary about Naipaul, insisting that "I will never [again] write about Naipaul. He is my friend." That declaration is belied by the publication of this book, the last twenty-percent of which is an uninterrupted excoriation of Naipaul and his second wife at the end of the friendship with Theroux. Here Theroux shows that he is at least as unforgiving as Naipaul, with a mean streak of his own.
In time Theroux would become a literary star with over forty novels and books of non-fiction. Naipaul, a painstaking, often philosophical writer, eventually won the Nobel Prize in 2001, and was knighted. Though this book is fascinating for its picture of the mentoring process and of a friendship which managed to survive despite the pettiness and frequent mean-spiritedness of Naipaul, it is also a portrait of Theroux, who published this book as his own enduring form of payback. n Mary Whipple
In a Free State: A Novel With Two Supporting Narratives, Naipaul's Booker Prize winner
A House for Mr. Biswas, one of Naipaul's most popular works
Dark Star Safari: Overland from Cairo to Capetown, recent Theroux travelogue
The Great Railway Bazaar
The Mosquito Coast, one of Theroux's most popular novels.
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10 of 10 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
Catty memoir gives rare insight to the secretive Naipaul., April 16, 1999
Forget all the media feeding frenzy over the "betrayal" accusations of Theroux's book about his former mentor and friend. If you're fascinated by Naipaul the writer, and want to know who the man is, this is the book. I have read everything Naipaul's ever written (except, ironically, Theroux's early book about Naipaul's work, cause it can't be found anywhere). He is simply an extraordinary novelist, certainly a candidate for the Nobel Prize (were it not for the politcally correct, who command it, and would be pulverized by those who see Naipaul's frankness as having "racialist" overtones). In the book he is quirky, opinionated, nasty, angry, volcanic, weird, tormented, fearful--all the contradictory qualities found in any artist. And of course artists are seen as strange--particularly in a world of conformists. It is a terrific read if you have followed the writing careers of both men. Of course, Theroux is bitchy and hypocritical and repetitive in the hurts he's suffered, but he also makes it clear that he would perhaps not exist as a writer of some 40 books had it not been for Naipaul's support. If you're not a Naipaul follower, this book won't be of much interest..
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