A House for Mr Biswas
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"A House for Mr Biswas" Quotes

By V.S. Naipaul

fiction | 640 pages | Published in 2016

With an introduction by author Teju Cole, A House for Mr Biswas is Nobel Prize in Literature winner V. S. Naipaul's unforgettable masterpiece. Heart-rending and darkly comic, it has been hailed as one of the twentieth century's finest novels, a classic that evokes a man's quest for autonomy against the backdrop of post-colonial Trinidad. He was struck again and again by the wonder of being in his own house, the audacity of it: to walk in through his own front gate, to bar entry to whoever he wished, to close his doors and windows every night. Mr. Biswas has been told since the day of his birth that misfortune will follow him – and so it has. Meaning only to avoid punishment, he causes the death of his father and the dissolution of his family. Wanting simply to flirt with a beautiful woman, he ends up marrying her, and reluctantly relying on her domineering family for support. But in spite of endless setbacks, Mr. Biswas is determined to achieve independence, and so he begins his gruelling struggle to buy a home of his own.

ISBN_13:9781509803514
ISBN_10:1509803513

Quotes

Everyone had a complaint against society. Mr Biswas's was that it made him feel like a criminal.

V. S. Naipaul

He wanted no more fate than that, no future. He had become impossible as a future.

V. S. Naipaul

He looked at her with the feeling, as always, that she was a crystallization of all the good things of life.

V. S. Naipaul

Everything is upset when you're ill. It's all turned topsy-turvy.

V. S. Naipaul

Because if you wanted to look after yourself, if you wanted to make sure you pushed yourself forward and became something in the world, you needed to belong to the most powerful community in the area.

V. S. Naipaul

His father had the grace to die before he could leave a lasting impression of his vulnerability.

V. S. Naipaul

She had the authority of long suffering and knew when to stop suffering.

V. S. Naipaul

This was what he had never had, this immense warmth. This was home; the pulse of the warmth convinced him.

V. S. Naipaul

Nobody was really responsible for anything. Nobody could wield real power.

V. S. Naipaul

The long years in which he had been in thrall to his properties seemed mythical to him now.

V. S. Naipaul