'A House for Mr. Biswas' is Published

And so Mr. Biswas, ex-sign painter, ex-bus conductor, ex-journalist, achieved his heart's desire and moved into a dwelling of his very own. It looked "like a huge and squat sentry-box," he paid too much for it, the upper floor sagged, the windows would not shut, one door would not open, but it was a house.

Such is the simple plot of this new novel by V. S. Naipaul, 29, a Hindu who made a name for himself in his first novel, The Mystic Masseur, which recorded with sweet and sour irony the ways of the colony (291,000) of expatriate Indians who live in Trinidad. What counts is not the plot but the flavor of their slap-happy lingo and picaresque customs, and it all ought to be as much fun as a barrel of tonka beans in Tobago sauce. But Naipaul's House, though built of excellent exotic materials, sags badly; 'economy, style, and a less elastic blueprint would have done wonders.

http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,917...