Undaunted by the near-disaster that was the “Evening of Appreciation” held in V. S. Naipaul’s honour on April 18, we ventured back to the University of the West Indies yesterday evening to hear Sir Vidia read from his works.
Left to his own devices, with a proper microphone and nobody asking him annoying questions (and only Lady Naipaul interrupting every so often to refill his water glass, which had to be placed just so on the table), Sir Vidia was fine. He read excerpts from Half A Life, the “His Chosen Calling” chapter of Miguel Street and a passage from Among the Believers about Malaysia (“a country,” according to Sir Vidia, “dedicated to fundamentalism”).
Naipaul’s reading style isn’t particularly good, in the classic sense, but his stilted, slightly quaint delivery is oddly effective, and easy on the ear. Even his attempts at reading the Trinidadian dialect which he rendered so adeptly in his early novels — and which is clearly now so alien to him — worked, after their own manner. It was also remarked by at least one member of my party that Half A Life sounds better read aloud.
When the reading was over, Lady Naipaul leapt to the front of the stage and assumed command of the procedings. “The book signing begins now!” she announced. “Form a queue. And only new books will be signed. That is the form.”
What form was this? we wondered. My heart went out to the throngs clutching their well-thumbed copies of early Naipaul novels and first editions which, on being subjected to the newness test by an advance guard comprising Naipaul’s agent, Gillon Aitken, and Lady Naipaul’s daughter, Maliha, were deemed too old for signing, and turned away.
I hadn’t planned on bringing a book to be signed, which is just as well, as I’d probably have been sent packing with my 1987 edition of Engima of Arrival, the newest Naipaul I actually own.
One student permitted me to photograph her copy of The Loss of El Dorado, which somehow managed to pass muster, unlike her friend’s dog-eared and yellowing Penguin edition of Biswas. A friend I hadn’t seen in a while brought along a first edition of Miguel Street, in a delicate dust jacket with edges serrated by time and wear; but it was rejected in favour of a recently purchased Half A Life. “And I don’t even like this book,” she said, with a sigh, and pushed it back into her handbag.
Technorati Tags: v. s. naipaul, trinidad, literature, books, reading
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WOW. That is truly the oddest thing I’ve ever heard.
And I used to be a fan. Hmph. May have to rethink my earlier plan on purchasing one of every one of his books.
Comment by Chookooloonks 04.21.07 @ 8:45 amWell, Chookooloonks, it was Lady Naipaul who instituted the “new book” rule. (Though I guess he didn’t make any protests, did he.)
And as long as you don’t wait too long after purchasing to get them signed, however, you should be okay. 
Georgia, this is hilarious…
Best wishes
Frances-Anne
[...] visit, and in particular, the actions of Naipaul’s wife, Lady Nadira Naipaul. Georgia Popplewell, writing at Caribbean Free Radio, thought the “Evening of Appreciation” held on April 18 was a “near-disaster”, yet went on [...]
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