My Secret History

I have had this book for many years and have read and reread it a number of times. To me it is superb, if rather disturbing, and is one of my favorite novels of all time. (You can see other reviews here for a plot synopsis, so I will skip that.) One thing none of the other reviewers have picked up on is the humour in this book. Some of the scenes are achingly funny in a tragic way, for example Christmas Day with the girlfriend's family in Walton-upon-Thames, a suburb of London, or the character sketches of some of the teachers at the school in Nyasaland, or the failed seduction by an older woman. I think some of the negative reviews here may be reacting to the sexual frankness of the narrative. Anyway, highly recommended by me.

Paul Theroux is best known for his bestselling nonfiction tomes about travel around the world, be that China, England, or the South Pacific. This book, however, is a thinly veiled novel about the author's dangerous secret life...a tale of two women (one his wife, one his mistress). There is some exotic setting (Africa) and some sexually charged scenes. It lays bare the writer's own flaws as a man and his release as a writer (which to him feels like "home"). What I found most interesting in the book, however, was the way in which the main character (Andy Parent, a name with a Freudian reference?) helps the reader understand and appreciate each woman for her own unique character and what she has to offer the main character. It's a story that perfectly captures why men don't leave their wives when they have an affair. The writing here is top notch as usual, but the subject matter explores a different country altogether. Although some may find this a strange departure from Theroux's normal fare, it also demonstrates the depth of his writing chops. His skill as a writer can be applied to any genre. That he has chosen to reveal much of his own inner landscape is a special gift to his longtime fans. While Theroux's readers may favor his lifetime's work on traveling the globe, this portrait of his inner journey can be just as interesting.

I assumed this would be a travel book as so many of his titles are. It is, in a way, but it's fiction. I liked the book quite a lot, particularly the first chapter, entitled Altar Boy (1956), which dealt with clashing views of religion and how some people's, however well meant, can have a debilitating affect on others'. I was struck by how much it reminded me of some Mormon fiction, particularly Levi Peterson's. What he means by his 'secret history', by the way, is his considerable appetite for sexual exploits. This activity dominates the book, unfortunately. Don't get me wrong. I have as healthy an appetite for sex as anyone, but I'm not really all that interested in hearing others brag about their own exploits. There are worse things, though. It's one thing to read about such things in a novel or a pornographic magazine which one can choose to read or not, but it's worse to have it foisted on you in public in the form of billboard ads such as the infamous Calvin Klein underwear ads of a few years ago. Anyway, back to the point. The first chapter of this book is, to my mind, a true literary masterpiece. But Theroux is a great travel writer, and the rest is worth reading for the descriptions of places in Africa and India if nothing else. Toward the end of the book, Theroux makes an interesting observation on travel which rang true for me. The story makes a moving tribute to the religion of Islam, as well. The scene takes place in a hotel room where he and his wife are staying, above a mosque in Madras (Chennai) just before the call to prayer. I include here some additional text to give the quote some context: "Below us the faithful were gathering. I watched Jenny's intense concentration and admired her reverence. She picked up her camera quickly and fingered and focused. But she did not shoot a picture -- out of respect, I felt. She said nothing, only watched, and I kept looking at her, the way she scrutinized the scene at the mosque. I thought how travel was composed of moments like this: discoveries and reverences separated by great inconvenience. These encounters, taken together, added up to one's experiences of a place -- the inconvenience had to be forgotten and displaced by the epiphany -- like this call to prayer."

The prequal to his acclaimed *My Other Life*, *My Secret History* is also a masterful work of narrative and characterization, imbued with grace, humor, and humanity. It demonstrates a young man's coming-of-age stuggles more astutely than any book I've read, and while it's easier to read than the later book, it's just as poignant: we often rather smugly hide behind our baggage and consider younger people frivolous because of inexperience, or somehow incapable of love. Theroux shows that they *do* feel love, of romance, friendship, respect--and these emotions form the measuring sticks by which all our subsequent experiences will be measured. Moreover, the book itself is an act of love--of writing and of living. It has made me value my own life more fully, through pages that made me relate, reflect, laugh, and read until dawn, and then, the better for it, get up and start writing, myself. And living. Just read the tender, blunt and beautiful first section, and I seriously doubt you'll stop.

This is my favorite book written by Paul Theroux, one of the finest novelists of our time. The book is based on Theroux's life and you're not sure how much of it is his personal history and how much of it is fiction. It is an epic journey following him from his Irish, Catholic upbringing in Boston to his years in Africa and then in London. With thirty plus years of avid reading behind me, this book is definitely on my all time 10 best list, and towards the top of the list.Another Paul Theroux book that you should not miss is Milroy the Magician. Fantastic!