A Bend in the River
I saw the month out by working on the media strategy for my now published Missing55 report (28 pages, 14 tables of data). Press release. E-mails. Thunderclap on Twitter. I have publicists in New York and London feeding the story to multiple media outlets, with an embargo until Tuesday, Dec. 5. I’m proud of the report and, at the same time, sick of it. I’ve worked on it for months and am really ready to move onto something else.
My literature class on Wednesday was on the book A Bend in the River by V.S. Naipaul. While we often have visiting tutors, today’s lecture was by Tess Maguinness, the wonderful professor who organises the course. Here’s her opening salvo on this book (from her lecture notes, which she distributes):
"A dull and self-serving hero, indeed an entire cast of characters enmeshed in such emotional and moral equivocation, and perhaps fatally, lacking in any real credibility – hollow men and women - a desultory and betimes muddy plot, politics of a very dubious hue, an agon about identity which seems depressingly crass, a turgid polemic on colonial and post-colonial Africa– what’s not to like?
"I am, of course, entirely open to persuasion. And perhaps it might be fruitful to talk about a novel that we do not like. And I concede there are ironies ticklish enough here for any reader from this part of the world.”
She has a lovely Irish brogue and a puckish sense of humour, she often looks up at us grinning. I went to the class on Wednesday (in the midst of pressing e-mails about one thing and another) wondering why I bother--I never have time to read the books. But Tess’ sense of humour alone is worth the trip.
Nov. 28, 29, 30