Sir Vidia's Shadow CL: Avail in Pa

An opinionated writer is often a pleasure to read. A diplomat is always a bore. SIR VIDIA'S SHADOW contains two writers, fully opinionated, and no diplomats. There is much about VS Naipaul in this portrait by Paul Theroux that is the sort of thing that is normally obscured by diplomacy: ambition, egotism, overbearance, intransigence, candor...Naipaul is a real piece of work, and Theroux shows him in all his glory. Perhaps he went further into the personal than was proper, but that is Naipaul's misfortune, not ours.I've read many other books by Theroux and Naipaul, some good, others less than that. I like the nonfiction of both better than their fiction. But never have I read anything by either of them as compelling as this. I tore through SIR VIDIA'S SHADOW in two sittings. I don't know whether it's due more to Naipaul's charm or the skill of SIR VIDIA'S author, Theroux.They begin in Uganda, sparring, as writers do, over other writers. Theroux mentions his admiration for Nabokov, whom Naipaul rejects: "Forget Nabokov. Read Death in Venice. Pay close attention to the accumulation of thought." This dismissal was surprising because as the persona of Vidia the Great Writer was developed through the book I was reminded constantly of Nabokov, particularly Nabokov's volume of criticism called STRONG OPINIONS. And Nabokov's scorn of Mann was second only to his scorn of Freud. But Naipaul and Nabokov have in common their legendary erudition, their strong opinions expressed elegantly, seldom dipping into vulgarity, their rootless lives lived mostly far from their natal homes, their wary eyes kept peeled for the brutes of the world--Naipaul sees at once that Uganda is on theverge of anarchy and goes around asking the people what they will do when the "crunch" comes. Just five years later the crunch does come in the form of Idi Amin.Coming from Third World squalor himself, Naipaul has no patience for the make believe that constitutes Ugandan government, universities, and newspapers. He marries, 30 years later, the same female about whom he says, in a spasm of vituperation, "What a horrible child!" Then the irony becomes still heavier when Theroux, a lover of children, is harshly abused by the new wife of his longtime friend.Theroux reveal nearly as much of himself as of Naipaul while playing a sort of straight man to his friend's winsome incorrigibility. The pair could hardly be more dissimilar: while Naipaul is driven into a foul mood just by the nearness of African families laughing and playing music on a Sunday, Theroux revels in their society, speaking Swahili, teaching English, and coupling with African women with joyous abandon. Somewhere in Theroux's other writings I'd gotten the impression that he was a bit of a New England puritan. But next to the fastidious Vidia, who is paralyzed with revulsion merely by a workman sitting on his (Naipaul's) bed, Theroux looks positively sybaritic.The writing is so fluid and well-timed that it looks easy. But there

Paul Theroux writes memoirs about his travels--no travelogue, they are instead very internalized impressions and reactions to what he experiences. And Theroux writes fiction (Mosquito Coast, Half Moon Street, Waldo.) In many of his memoirs he writes about his love of literature and his respect for a number of authors, including V.S. Naipaul. Now, we get a rare view of the intimate friendship between Naipaul and Theroux, something he had previously only alluded to. This is perhaps Theroux's best book. It is not "enjoyable"--reading it is like having a slight headache or sitting on something rather uncomfortable. That's because Naipaul (Vidia to his friends) is a true pain. He dispenses enigmatic advice ("Never keep a diary.") He makes outrageous pronouncements ("Women of sixty think of nothing but sex") and he is a hypocrite. He renounces sex. That is, he renounces sex with his long-suffering wife Pat, but keeps a mistress.This behavior is classic narcissism. Like most narcissists, Vidia has a lot of allure--he's a fascinating character, a celebrated writer. He fostered Theroux from a budding novelist to a respected, much-published author of note, probably for the pleasure of having a disciple. But when the surprise comes at the end of "Sir Vidia's Shadow" it is hardly a surprise, yet, it hurts. Theroux took the expected spanking for publishing a memoir such as this. Friends accused him of betrayal. Journalists tried to trump up a feud, where none existed. Critics came down hard. But I think "Sir Vidia's Shadow" is brave and honest--the difference between his writing and Naipaul's. Well worth reading.

I guess there are really two questions here. Is this a good book and should the author have written it?Certainly it is fine writing, excellent characterization, evocative descriptions, and, of course, it is mesmerizing when two top writers have problems and then have a falling out.Many years ago, a friend did some things I found out about through another friend and, when I confronted him, I eventually started getting some weird letters from his Filipina wife totally distorting all that had gone on between her husband and myself. This is not quite the same thing as what happened with Paul Thereoux but I have been on the receiving end of strange letters from someone who has been schooled but not educated, and someone both immature and insecure who wanted to change the past before closing the door. I think Theroux was both dismayed and hurt by the fax he received which also did this.In a way, Paul Theroux was betrayed twice. Once by his friend Naipaul and once by his friend allowing - apparently without objection - his new wife to put her spin on the past and to clean house, including Paul. It seems to me that the only sin of Paul Theroux was his naivete. When you deal with the type of person Naipaul is, you should know he is capable of cruelty as well as egocentric behavior.Paul Theroux wrote this book out of the pain of betrayal but kept it literary and honest. I am pleased this book was written. Absolutely fascinating.Dean Barrett

Paul Theroux's "Sir Vidia's Shadow" has taken quite a beating in some quarters. Many feel Theroux betrayed V.S. Naipaul by writing this memoir, but the fact remains that this is Theroux's story as much as it is Naipaul's. This book has been attacked for being nasty and unfair, but is actually an evenhanded and penetrating look at writing, friendship and human frailties.Theroux meets Naipaul in Uganda in 1966. Over the next 30 years, they remain friends through wide distances, triumphs and failures, divorces and deaths. Naipaul emerges as an extraordinarily compelling character. Perceptive, brilliant, egocentric and obsessed with writing, he abuses and uses his friends, family and professional acquaintances. He is also generous, needy and sometimes kind. What we end up with is a portrait of a supremely gifted but infantile man who is a fascinating but sometimes repugnant human being. Theroux is brutally honest not just about Naipaul's faults, but his finer qualities. He uses that same objectivity towards himself as well. In the end, "Sir Vidia's Shadow" betrays Theroux's hurt feelings after Naipaul terminates their relationship following his second marriage; it does not display meanspiritedness.This superb memoir is a gripping read, from the first page to the last. The story it has to tell is well worth reading, and Theroux writes beautifully (as ever). All in all, I highly recommend "Sir Vidia's Shadow."

Sir Vidia's Shadow tells the story of the thirty-year friendship between Paul Theroux and V. S. Naipaul. They met in Uganda in 1966 where Theroux was teaching English at Makarere University. Naipaul was already famous and had published several books; Theroux was unknown but aspired to be a novelist.Naipaul takes a liking to Theroux (in his own way) and encourages and helps him. Naipaul introduces Theroux to his British publisher. He invites Theroux to parties where he introduces him as an up and coming author. Meanwhile, even though Naipaul is famous (and is already in the late 60's being referred to as one of the greatest living writers in English), he struggles to earn a living. He takes unappealing teaching and journalism jobs to make ends meet; the very kind of work against which he warns Theroux. Theroux meanwhile, by the early seventies, had published seven books but was still struggling financially. He has a low paying job teaching in Singapore and must endure the humiliation of being ordered to cut his hair by his department head.Theroux does not become financially secure until he strays away from "pure" writing and writes the first of his travel books. Theroux's fame eventually equals and perhaps surpasses Naipaul. His subsequent travel books are enormously successful. Several of his novels are adapted for motion pictures while Naipaul books are always critically admired but poor selling. Near the end Theroux makes the point that he find many of Naipaul's later works dull and uninteresting; he says that he must skim to get through them. Theroux feels that some of these later works would never have been published had an unknown written them. If you're like me and have read lesser works of famous authors and felt exactly the same way; it's nice to see this sentiment in print. There are interesting comments on rare and signed books. He describes Naipaul's rage at having to sign copies of his books for others to sell at a huge mark-up. Theroux sees books that he had inscribed and presented to Naipaul and his first wife decades earlier in a rare book dealer's catalogue. This sets in motions the events that cause their friendship to come apart. Meanwhile, Theroux himself collects signed books; he asks his friend to sign his collection of Naipaul's work one day during a visit at his London home. Naipaul refuses. Theroux buys Naipaul's privately printed signed limited edition "Congo Diary" and is upset that his friend did not think to give him one. There is an interesting passage describing Theroux's participation in the 1979 Booker prize panel, the year when A Bend in the River was considered. The other judges want to award the prize to Naipaul but Theroux vetoes this, saying he didn't like sex scenes or the ending. He suggests an alternative but one of the other judges rejects this, saying "over my dead body." Theroux shows that the awarding of book prizes is mainly a popularity contest; who one's friends are matters much more than writing qua