Selective Amnesia

The world is what it is: the authorized biography of Sir V.S. Naipaul

In Patrick French’s biography of Sir Vidiadhar Surajprasad Naipaul appears the words “big, popular, well-researched biographies” describing Antonia Fraser’s work.

Perhaps they apply to Mr. French’s own book?

“The World Is What It Is” is definitely well researched. Dipping into letters, diaries, published interviews and exploiting to the full direct access to the man himself, Patrick French covers the rise, and rise, of the nobel-winning author.

Mr. French’s sources – family members, close friends, associates and editors and the world’s most famous people – each tell us one side of Naipaul and it is up to the biographer to piece these many sides together to create something of a whole. Which he does very well indeed.

And it is big enough a read. Written almost like a screenplay, with action shifting places, dates and stages in the author’s life, characters coming in, going out only to be recalled later.

The jury is out on its popularity, but I am sure the verdict will be guilty. For, you see, it has all the ingredients to do that. Romance, intrigue, suffering and celebrity endorsement. As well as sex, though a bit late in the day.

In pages where V.S. Naipaul’s letters to Shiva or other writers are reproduced, there are good, quick lessons for new writers. Like Stephen King in his part-memoir, part tutorial On Writing, these lessons are simple and have come from years of honing one’s craft.

But those pages are few. Talking about which, they don’t turn fast. There are places where the story told (for isn’t that what a biography is? A story of a person.) feels heavy and laboured. Even the torrid affair of Naipaul and Margaret sometimes feels boring.

Through all of this, the author ensures that the genius of Naipaul shines through brightly. While that might be stating the obvious, it is difficult to do that with a person who is caustic, caring, eccentric, weird and the many other adjectives that will easily fit Naipaul.

For somebody who’s never read Sir Vidia’s books, this biography has snatches that will intrigue, and reviews that will tempt. He, Mr. French, does not pass judgement on work of a fellow writer. Patrick French is rarely felt in this, only the people he taps for information.

But I cannot be Patrick French and therefore will let my prejudice seep through this piece.

I’ll admit I am not a fan of the biography as a genre of writing. The ones I’ve read seek to glorify (in some cases the opposite is also true) the person being written about. A single brush and one single colour, chosen long before, is used to paint the picture. Which is something I find used in this book as well, but sparingly. There are repeated references to Vidia’s ‘deracination’ and his depression, as if great writing comes only from a deep mental anguish. (Perhaps it is true, and perhaps that is why I can never be a great writer.)

But those are not deal breakers.

In the end, this book, while not exactly something you will read from beginning to end in one stretch, offers a close look at the East Indian author from West Indies, sorry, Trinidad.

(This review appeared in the Sunday Indian Express’s book section, yesterday 11th May 2008. Unable to find a link online, so I suppose you have to buy the paper or just take my word for it.)