Blinding Light: A Novel [Paperback]

Paul Theroux is known as a descriptive writer, and much of the work is good - if that style of writing is to your taste.

The middle of this book is too long and drawn out, and frankly the drug-induced sexual encounters became tedious. I couldn't wait for them to end - perhaps I was being held prisoner in a similar way to Steadman's girlfirend Ava.

The tail end of the book was a little more enjoyable - bear in mind, however that this is not a thriller, and the end is somewhat predictable. If the editor had removed about 60 pages from the middle of the book it would have been a great read.

My Advice: Read the start, proceed through the middle until it bores you, then fast forward to the end.

I loved this book, but I've loved every Paul Theroux novel. I suspect that most first-time readers of Theroux' novels will be offended and put off by this book. On the surface it reads like an egotistical, self-absorbed, name-dropping exercise in denial. In a vacuum, this novel is a train wreck. But taken in the context of the author's previous works, it is pure brilliance.

I see this book as a natural extension/progression in Theroux' literary exploration of what it means to be a man. For me, this exploration started with "The Mosquito Coast," which I read in 1981, and which has haunted me ever since. From the beginning of "Blinding Light" I saw similarities between Steadman and Allie Fox, the protagonist of "The Mosquito Coast." They are both so sure of themselves, so full of themselves, yet so isolated from the rest of humanity. Each believes he is the only living person who has the Answer to the Human Condition, and each wants nothing whatsoever to do with anyone "less fortunate" than them. In "Mosquito Coast," Allie ("Father") is a tree-hugger inventor/farmer. I believe his children are home-schooled. His idea of freedom, which he preaches to his wife and kids with every breath he takes, lies in returning to the "natural" state of things. He constantly declares to his wife and children, "If it can't be grown here, I have no use for it!" Except, evidently, for the hydrogen and nitrogen and other chemicals he arranges to have shipped to South America when he moves his family there in order to build a giant freezer in the middle of the equatorial rain forest! How different is Steadman's journey?

Like Allie, Steadman is an introvert-snob; he knows he's smarter than 99.9% of the people on the planet. He also knows he's a fraud. His incredibly successful travel book was a complete fluke, an experience nobody, including Steadman, could ever consciously reproduce. To his credit, he definitely tries; he spends 10 years trying to come up with a "great, new" idea, to no avail. One day he hears of a "mind-altering" drug that can only be experienced in the jungles of South America, and he's convinced that it is the only thing that will produce a breakthrough, the subject of which will inevitably become his next book.

It turns out that Steadman is right. The mind-altering drug he finds in the jungle DOES actually transport him to "see" things as he has never seen them before. And it DOES produce fodder for his next book. But, as we all know, there are no free lunches. The insight and vision Steadman receives comes at a price.

In allegorical terms, this book can be seen as the tale of the Garden of Eden: given the gift of the fruit of KNOWLEDGE, how will you use it? Steadman uses it to hob-knob with presidents and celebrities and act like a complete arrogant, idiotic schmuck! Just like Allie Fox. In Allie's case, the fruit of Knowledge was his own brain, but he used it in the same arrogant, idiotic, BLIND way.

Some of the reviewers of this book have objected to the lame attempt at erotica. They are right - but I think it's intentional. My reading of the book is that it's ANTI-erotica. It's satirical. It's making fun of Steadman's belief that it's erotic.

I have to respectfully disagree with the other posted reviews. This novel is a satire. It's poking fun at the main character, Steadman. He's meant to be a pathetic writer who intentionally denies himself and his character through the use of datura. Without it, he feels like he has nothing to contribute to his audience regardless of the astounding success of his first book. His obsession with sex and the "blind insights" he achieves regarding his sex life under the drug's influence are his only sources of inspiration. He's a pathetic and lost individual who's deluded himelf into believing that his erotic, hallucinogenic musings are SOMEHOW redeeming. They aren't. This is a story about a man who's so afraid of himself that thinks he needs to pose as a blindman to be recognized as someone with value. In addition to his anti-Freudian message, I believe Theroux meant this book to be a diatribe against any artist who needs drugs in their systems to create. Blinding Light is self-deception. I don't happen to agree with this premise, but it was artfully illustrated in this novel. I found this book to be thought-provoking and an enjoyable read.