The Mimic Men by V.S. Naipaul was unfortunately not my cup of tea. From start to finish I struggled with this one. To be honest I nearly DNF’d this book after 50 pages, since I could not get into the story or connect with the protagonist, Ralph Singh. Somehow I managed to slog on and after I passed page 100 I encountered a few ‘oases’ within the narrative that encouraged me to push on further. Although, sadly I was not rewarded for my perseverance, as the ending was abrupt and anticlimactic. The story seemed to just peter out randomly.
The only parts of The Mimic Men that I enjoyed were the small ‘oases’ in which Naipaul shared intriguing tidbits about life in the fictional Caribbean island of Isabella. For example, racing around the narrow roads of the island in a car while drinking rum, or going to the beach and horsing around with his friends. These little sub stories within the story, which were few and far between, somehow painted an authentic portrait of life on a(ny) Caribbean island.
Needless to say there were quite a few aspects of The Mimic Men that did not resonate with me. The beginning of the novel was confusing and jarring with its introduction of a revolving carousel of characters. Moreover, Naipaul in this novel, at least, seemed to have a disturbing fixation on debauchery (sex and alcohol in particular). He describes lurid details of various random encounters with prostitutes, which gives The Mimic Men and slightly sleezy feel that is off-putting (and possibly triggering to some readers). The plot is also very meandering and incoherent – lacking a clear destination or purpose. Moreover, the style of writing in the novel is quite emotionally detached and feelingless, which is accentuated by the fact that it is written mostly in very formal “Queen’s English.” It lacks the warmth, cadence and richness of the Caribbean dialect that I experienced in some of his other novels (like Miguel Street and The Mystic Masseur).
After recently reading The Mystic Masseur, which was an exquisite masterpiece of Caribbean literature, The Mimic Men was quite a letdown. Nevertheless, I recognize that an author evolves over time, and experiments as he hones his craft. Perhaps this was a novel in which Naipaul was trying to explore ways to reach a broader audience outside of the Caribbean by restricting his use of dialect. Unfortunately, I’m only able to recommend this book to readers who are diehard fans of Naipaul and want to delve into the full breadth and depth of his writing.
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