But then, in 1997, their friendship ended. Snubbed by Naipaul following a chance meeting on a London street, Theroux immediately realised that "his rejection of me meant I was on my own. He had freed me, he had opened my eyes, he had given me a subject." The result was Sir Vidia's Shadow, a humorous but often elegiac account of the cantankerous Naipaul, which often reads as much as an account of Theroux's own rise to artistic maturity as a literary memoir of Naipaul. Some of the finest sections of the book deal with Theroux's contrasting experiences to Africa compared with the patrician attitude of Naipaul, and his emergence as a literary figure in London--with the help of Naipaul.

At times, Sir Vidia's Shadow offers hilarious insights into Naipaul's bizarre and often offensive musings on politics, race and sex, and his selfish and single-minded belief that writing is the only thing that really matters. This is a fascinating book, made all the more intriguing by the nagging feeling that a deeper level of recrimination lies behind Theroux's account than he actually concedes. If Naipaul's rejection of Theroux allows him to become just another "subject", then how much difference is there in the end between the two writers? In the end, is this really a book about killing the literary father? Only time, and perhaps Naipaul's response, will tell. --Jerry Brotton --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.

Synopsis
An intimate portrait of that rarest and most fragile of alliances, a literary friendship. In this personal account Theroux recalls his relationship with Vidia and how their positions were frequently reversed as they became each other's editors, confidants and teachers.