I just finished the book Half a Life by Naipaul. It is beautifully written. And it must probably mean a lot with great detail, of character and places and stories and backdrops, which I don't know are accurate but might have been. However, I am probably not in the league of understanding it. To me it was by far the most pointless book I have read.
When I picked it up, I thought it was supposed to be humorous, in a subtle manner. And it was, when the story was revolving around Willie Chandran's father. Then Willie goes to London and it is no longer even remotely funny. The story just goes around for no purpose except to prove that Willie has always been living somebody else's life. But as far as I can see, he lived his own life, the way he wanted to and was plain unhappy all the time. And it was supposed to tell a story but I have no idea what the story was.
Writing style was brilliant though. It was easy to read and would keep you turning the pages even when you don't really like the story. I wish Naipaul wrote A Thousand Splendid Suns. It might have been a better read. But then again, I don't think either of the authors could have written each other's stories. Considering my distaste for Orhan Pamuk's writing and now this, I should probably avoid Nobel laureates.