During his 46 short years, Mr Biswas has always struggled to seek and define his sense of self but to no avail. A House for Mr Biswas is V.S. Naipaul's gripping and satirical tragicomedy of errors which is quite reminiscent of Gogol's portrait of harried and desperate characters. Early in life, Mr Biswas is proclaimed to be 'born the wrong way and thrust into a world that greeted him with little more than a bad omen' and shuffled from one frail and crumblng house to another, from one set of relations to another, always threatened with instability and ridicule. Hence, Mr Biswas has attempted to be self-sufficient, carve out a modest living, and shape his own destiny away from the cloying purse strings and meddling influence of his treacherous in-laws.
During my frenzied reading, I felt my literary sensibilities bursting with such fervour. As an ardent bookworm, I have always associated the art of reading with the will to live, the desire and willingness to savour life's bittersweet moments. Indeed, my reading hibernation ended with the gradual bloom of Spring. In fact, A House for Mr Biswas recalled to mind my Indiophile tendencies which had been laid to rest for quite some time. Through the sometimes comical, witty, and the quietly desperate Mohun Biswas, I found myself reclaiming something of myself. Indeed, the character of Mr Biswas felt like a kindred soul who, like me, has spent almost a lifetime carving out a distinct identity which struggles against calamitous and trivial events alike time and time again.