I know nothing of American poets. I read it just as Eileen Simpson's memoir. the poets were all drunks and/or crazy. ( )

The author is a professor of "Literatures in English and Cultural Studies". I have begun dipping into the theses of this book, and have becomes engrossed. The subtitle of the Epilogue, "All homesickness is fiction" first caught my attention. Then, (prefaced with two quotes, one from Simone Weil and one from Rushdie) comes the brilliant first sentence :' If "roots" are a conservative myth, then all homesickness is fiction. '
I then turned to the Prologue and found the intended counterpoint of subtitle : "All fiction is homesickness".
I randomly started out at chapter three,-- having been forewarned that chapter two had a feminist slant,-- and searched out analyses of the few authors I was familiar with. (Btw, her writing is so compelling, and her extracts, from fiction, or from crtitical works, are so well-chosen and woven into a non-dry style of writing, that I am currently adding to my wish list of books and new authors to read.) Her characterization of "House of Mr. Biswas" was spot-on. This is extracted from the chapter with the premise that "For the global writer of literature in English, Conrad is a body of work that one has to work through *if* one is interested in positioning one's own work in relation to the 'Great English Tradition'." She prefaces her sympathetic crticism of the native home-builder's preference for "real" building materials and "real" houses, somewhat akin to Marlow's description (this is a quote from the text too) in Heart of Darkness that "normal" temperatures are those of England's climate, with the most pithy of backhanded compliments:
"First published in 1961, Naipaul's A House for Mister Biswas is a partly autobiographical novel that is written with a wisdom and generosity that his later work lacks."
Take that Sir Vidiya!!