As with an earlier reviewer, I couldn't get on with this book the first time I took it up. In fact, I detested what I percieved as a deliberately obscure use of language. But when I took it up again, I managed to relax and to accept the layers of ambiguity on display from the first paragraph, and so entered the author's world. Perhaps Naipual is as egotistical a man as portrayed in the biography of him written by his one-time friend, Paul Theroux. But, as a writer, Naipaul does manage to communicate - unusually successfully - that he is alive, albeit in an uncaring universe. And that as Naipaul (the book's protagonist as well as its author) studies that tiny bit of the universe that is accessible to him (to begin with its just the view from a rented cottage in Wiltshire) the universe becomes a little less foreign and unfriendly a place.