It's unique--and unique in Naipaul's work, of which I've read a dozen, my favorites including House for Mr Biswas, The Loss of El Dorado, and Among the Believers. Used to teach Miguel Street in community college Freshman English--maybe fifteen years, often twice a year. It never got old to me. My "teaching" was largely aloudreading, including my class who were fearful of the accent. Once in awhile a student had been to Trinidad, would try to recreate some. One or two got it better than I, who hadn't been there. I find it a comic achievement of the highest order, rather like (and unlike) Faulkner's As I Lay Dying. Man-Man's dog is a wonderful creation, roughly equal to Shakespeare's Crab, the clown's dog in Two Gentlemen of Verona.
My wife came to my first class one semester, when I aloudread from "Man-man," who, barking like a dog from a barstool, was thrown out of a bar by the Portuguese bar owner. (Mainly read because two-thirds of my students were Portuguese, in Fall River.) I aloudread a bit, then barked like a dog. I went to the open classroom door-- students thought, to close it-- to step into the hall and bark louder. So other teachers would know what this Ph.D. did in his class. A student in the back of my classroom, sitting next to my wife, said, "Well, I guess I'm not gonna fall asleep in this class." In the story, Man-man goes back to the closed bar twice, once leaving all the doors open, but taking nothing, the next night, "little blobs of excrement were left on the top of every stool, and on top of every table, and at regular intervals along the counter"(40).
I wonder if a film of it is even possible, maybe by a Brazilian film-maker? The humor would be tough to represent visually. The brand-new truck "repaired" by the compulsive tinkerer--lovely. The un-named protagonist of Miguel Street wins the scholarship at Oxford. But on the way, he meets and describes a fascinating array of characters, the central one being the ironist and "older brother" type, Hat. Then, the teacher of Latin, Titus Hoyt. And the poet who has written nothing. How about the crazed Man-Man who has trained his dog to defecate. And the aforesaid tinkerer-mechanic who destroys new cars and trucks, his chapter titled, "The Mechanical Genius." There's the fireworks afficianado whose obsession blows up his house, in the "Pyrotechnicist," which begins with the central point of the book: "A stranger could drive down Miguel Street and just say 'Slum!' because he could see no more. But we, who lived there, saw our street as a world, where everone was quite different from everybody else." (63, Vintage 1984)
I would use the book as the first of five in my course, others including a Shakespeare play, a poetry collection, and a memoir or non-fiction. It really got the class off to a great start. Of course, Naipaul grew into a bit of a zero--dissing women authors, whoring, etc. But if we can forgive politicians, why not geniuses? (less)
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