Another Susan Hill recommendation. I don’t think I will follow these anymore as our tastes don’t match at all.
This is an early novel by Naipaul, prolix in length, about a not very interesting or pleasant man of Indian extraction, living in Trinidad in the early part of the 20th century.
He marries, I think almost by chance or a coincidence of their shared Hinduism, a woman he never loves who is one of the many daughters of a much wealthier family than his own.
His life is a series of fairly low grade jobs, production of children (although no physical intimacy is ever mentioned or even hinted at) and dislike of his wife’s family on whom he is largely economically dependent.
He does eventually buy a house for his own family, although, unsurprisingly, he has been ripped off by the vendor. He dies soon afterwards and I was pleased that this concluded (as it opened) the book.
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