Eric Williams

Last Bench is a delightful read, a charming mini-Bildungsroman that quickly pulled me into its orbit, transporting me to an age of innocence in an enigmatic country that, to my edified surprise, proves to be less enigmatic and more deeply human. Set

Last Bench is a delightful read, a charming mini-Bildungsroman that quickly pulled me into its orbit, transporting me to an age of innocence in an enigmatic country that, to my edified surprise, proves to be less enigmatic and more deeply human. Set in Bangalore, India, in the 1970s, this semi-autobiographical tale is narrated by a schoolboy, Vikki, who recounts in vivid and assured prose the twists and turns of his efforts to negotiate a treacherous minefield of alluring temptations, ethical dilemmas, and competing personal loyalties.

As I read—practically in one sitting, with only brief refreshment breaks—I was repeatedly struck by how this well-crafted debut novel called to mind the work of another displaced Indian writer, V. S. Naipaul. At times, one could almost be led to believe that Last Bench is a recently unearthed early Naipaul work, the missing first panel of a trilogy whose later installments would include Miguel Street and A House for Mr Biswas