I was eleven, no more, when the wish came to me to be a
writer; and then very soon it was a settled ambition. But for the
young V. S. Naipaul, there was a great distance between the wish
and its fulfillment. To become a writer, he would have to find ways
of understanding three very different cultures: his family's
half-remembered Indian homeland, the West Indian colonial society
in which he grew up, and the wholly foreign world of the English
novels he read.
In this essay of literary autobiography, V. S. Naipaul sifts
through memories of his childhood in Trinidad, his university days
in England, and his earliest attempts at writing, seeking the
experiences of life and reading that shaped his imagination and his
growth as a writer. He pays particular attention to the traumas of
India under its various conquerors and the painful sense of
dereliction and loss that shadows writers' attempts to capture the
country and its people in prose.
Naipaul's profound reflections on the relations between
personal or historical experience and literary form, between the
novel and the world, reveal how he came to discover both his voice
and the subjects of his writing, and how he learned to turn
sometimes to fiction, sometimes to the travel narrative, to portray
them truthfully. Along the way he offers insights into the novel's
prodigious development as a form for depicting and interpreting
society in the nineteenth century and its diminishing capacity to
do the same in the twentieth?a task that, in his view, passed to
the creative energies of the early cinema.
As a child trying to read, I had felt that two worlds
separated me from the books that were offered to me at school and
in the libraries: the childhood world of our remembered India, and
the more colonial world of our city. ... What I didn't know, even
after I had written my early books of fiction ... was that those
two spheres of darkness had become my subject. Fiction, working its
mysteries, by indirections finding directions out, had led me to my
subject. But it couldn't take me all the way. -V.S. Naipaul, from
Reading & Writing
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