Scan barcode
A review by shellkyle
A House for Mr. Biswas by V.S. Naipaul
5.0
This was a triumph of post-colonial literature, and dearly I wish I read it closer to when I ventured through One Hundred Years of Solitude.
Here is the narrative of the indomitable Mr. Biswas, a man who was, in uncountably many ways, the square peg to every round hole the circumstances of his life forced him into. From his birth as a blight to his parents to a thorn in the bristling bush that was Hanuman House, he just did not fit into whatever situation life threw him into. At times a man deserving of hate and at others the underdog you'd root for in a TV drama, he is drawn so humanly and comically in his misadventures that he inspires understanding, more than anything else. Shama is equally a victim of their cat-in-bag marriage, the both of them boxed into their status for better or for worse.
Yet more than a study of Mr. Biswas' life and family this novel is the meticulous study on the politics of households. Houses, in his world as in many others, are not just dwelling-places or hearts for families - they are little kingdoms, with rulers, hierarchies, and regulations with corresponding rewards and consequences. In taking us through these houses, Naipaul tours us through the cultural landscape of Indian Trinidad. In the organization of the Tulsi fiefdom, I couldn't help but notice some similarities in our own Filipino extended families, where the collective always takes precedence over the individual and in unyielding deference to the ones in charge. For so long in the novel, Mr. Biswas is but one of the cowed in-laws in the Tulsi fiefdom that I couldn't help but root for him to finally find his own in spite of himself and his relentless bad luck.
This is by no means a page turner, but there is so much to be seen and felt. Mr. Biswas' endless frustration, Shama's silenhelplessness, and the children's resiliency. The hustle and bustle of a house bursting with families, the smells and sounds of a morning puja.
Here is the narrative of the indomitable Mr. Biswas, a man who was, in uncountably many ways, the square peg to every round hole the circumstances of his life forced him into. From his birth as a blight to his parents to a thorn in the bristling bush that was Hanuman House, he just did not fit into whatever situation life threw him into. At times a man deserving of hate and at others the underdog you'd root for in a TV drama, he is drawn so humanly and comically in his misadventures that he inspires understanding, more than anything else. Shama is equally a victim of their cat-in-bag marriage, the both of them boxed into their status for better or for worse.
Yet more than a study of Mr. Biswas' life and family this novel is the meticulous study on the politics of households. Houses, in his world as in many others, are not just dwelling-places or hearts for families - they are little kingdoms, with rulers, hierarchies, and regulations with corresponding rewards and consequences. In taking us through these houses, Naipaul tours us through the cultural landscape of Indian Trinidad. In the organization of the Tulsi fiefdom, I couldn't help but notice some similarities in our own Filipino extended families, where the collective always takes precedence over the individual and in unyielding deference to the ones in charge. For so long in the novel, Mr. Biswas is but one of the cowed in-laws in the Tulsi fiefdom that I couldn't help but root for him to finally find his own in spite of himself and his relentless bad luck.
This is by no means a page turner, but there is so much to be seen and felt. Mr. Biswas' endless frustration, Shama's silenhelplessness, and the children's resiliency. The hustle and bustle of a house bursting with families, the smells and sounds of a morning puja.