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The New York Times once hailed V.S. Naipaul as one of the few "living writers of whom the English language can be proud". While I would not stretch myself that far, I would agree that yes, he is a writer of caliber.

In this vein, it was with a view to enhance my perceptions of English literature that I picked up "A House for Mr. Biswas" from my uncle's library recently. It was, after all, the book that catapulted Naipaul to a level of fame and repute that may well be unrivalled today.

In this sense, reading this novel was quite an experience. It must be one of the bleaker novels I have read in a long while. The protagonist, Mr. Biswas, is a rather tragic figure, with the misfortune of having ambitions without the means of achieving them. This novel is his story, and traces his life from his inauspicious birth with an extra finger, to his last days in a house of his own.

Mr. Biswas suffers many ignominies, his education is hardly what could be called complete, and his childhood is anything but very happy. His father's death, the splitting up of his family, his mother's poverty and his own penniless childhood paint a grim picture of deprivation, despair and depression.

Finally, Mr. Biswas grows up. Pursuing a career as a sign painter, he meets and falls in love with his wife, Shyama. But happiness is not so easily found. Shyama is one of the many Tulsi daughters, hailing from a family that has a stranglehold on each of its members. The sons-in-law are assimilated into the rambling household, losing their identities in the murky undergrowth of a joint family.

But Mr. Biswas, a most unlikely rebel, rejects this assimilation. This leads to many tensions throughout his married life, and many more complex and very confusing tussles within the family, but in the end, Mr. Biswas succeeds in maintaining his independence.

Meanwhile, his professional life is equally tumultuous. Mr. Biswas holds many jobs, including a driver, sub-overseer, a government clerk and a journalist, among other things. His poverty dogs him throughout, and he spends most of his life hovering just above the poverty line.

The story and plot is hardly very striking. There are no major twists and turns in this straightforward narrative, and neither are there any surprises that you cannot anticipate. But therein lies the strength of this book. Naipaul tells the story of a simple man from a simple background, but within his characters is the universality of human emotion. Mr. Biswas is the classic loser, with nothing going for him, but within him is the human character the strongest.

However, my major problem with this book is how it drags towards the end. There is a distinct feeling that the book could have been some eighty pages shorter, and without all the unnecessary ramblings in the middle, but I guess that is excusable. Another thing that bothered me was the incredible bleakness in the novel. I assume that it is merely a reflection if the bleakness in the life of someone with no options, so I let that pass.

A book that has been hailed as one of the classics of the last century, "A House for Mr. Biswas" will probably remain one of the landmarks in English writing by a diaspora writer. But while it is a good book, from a literary perspective, it is hardly a pleasant or enjoyable read.

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