Third in a series that takes place in the fictional town of Malgudi in India. I thought the whole trilogy was very accessible for "Western" readers. But this story takes a metaphysical turn about halfway through, and, for me, made it an effort to finish. ( )

This book is violently boring.
1.The rigid adherence to realism in the first half of the book forgets why we have fiction: to GET AWAY from reality.The book seems like its cobbled together from diary entries. This isn't what we want. We want a story, a plot, descriptions.What does this have? Unending,monotonous narration.

2.Violates the most basic rule of description: show not tell. (As vague a rule as that is)It tells us what's happening, what the protagonist feels, etc. but utterly fails to allow the reader to visualize it. As a result, the author's attention to detail becomes a test of the reader's resilience to monotony.

- I hope to periodically add to this review-

Some thoughts:

1. I believe that the only way to derive any value from this book is to read it with a literary microscope, to drag out the hints of themes and ideas the author never bothered to develop properly. Essentially, the only possible use of this book is as an exercise in literary analysis. We must put in what the author left out.


EDITED after some (very delayed) reflection. ( )

> « Le Professeur d’Anglais », de R. K. NARAYAN (Editions 10 / 18 “Domaine étranger” - 337 pages, format 10,5 /17,5)
Ce livre est un roman dont l’action se déroule dans la petite ville imaginaire de Malgui, située par le grand écrivain indien entre Mysore et Madras, dans l’Inde du Sud. Dans cette ville où il enseigne, un jeune indien, professeur d’anglais, fait venir sa femme et leur petite fille après avoir trouvé une maison à louer. Bientôt l’épouse meurt, il se retrouve seul, partagé entre la mort de l’être cher et la vie de cet enfant curieuse de tout, avide de découvrir.
L’histoire est simple, mais ce sont les sensations, les émotions qui traversent le récit, qui en font son attrait, sa richesse.
Dans sa seconde partie l’histoire devient presque surréaliste. Grâce à un intermédiaire, l’homme entre en contact avec sa femme. Celle-ci existe dans un “ailleurs” où les choses sont belles et paisibles. Elle va progressivement apprendre à son mari à s’éloigner de sa souffrance, à se concentrer, jusqu’à atteindre un état proche du samâdhi qui lui permettra de la rejoindre, de la retrouver, quelque part entre la vie et la mort.
A la fois triste et joyeux, teinté d’ironie et d’humour, ce livre riche de méditation, de calme et de volubilité nous plonge dans la vie, dans la mentalité indienne, dans la prégnance aussi de ses traditions. De nombreux aspects souvent abordés dans cette revue par le biais du yoga sont ici implicites ou encore “mis en situation”.
Un roman à lire, qui nous amène à “respirer” autrement. (Philippe CHAPELLE)
—Revue Viniyoga, Mars 1993

As ever, Narayan manages that beautiful balance of critical thought against cynicism, here telling the tale of an English teacher in Malgudi who has to fight against the dulling effects of literary classes on the one hand, and personal tragedy on the other. Unlike 'The Man-Eater of Malgudi', however, this is a thoroughly modern novel, one with a beginning and an end that feel more like phases in a continuum than discrete points. ( )

As always with Narayan, the writing is a joy to read. The prose flows smoothly, the descriptions come to life and dialogue reads as true. I liked the story too (I won't spoil it by giving it away) but the metaphysical aspects were not believable and once I reached that part of the book, it became a bit heavy-going.

Some authors, especially South American ones like Gabriel Garcia Marquez and Jorge Amado, have such a touch writing magical realism that you automatically accept those aspects as credible. Narayan didn't have that ability, and, in an effort to distinguish the dialogue between the living and the dead, he over-wrote the latter's speech which became speech that the character would not have uttered previously when living.

Of the four Narayan books that I've just read in chronological order, this one is by far the fullest, rather than detailing a very small episode in life. However, it is also supposed to be the most autobiographical and given the un-believability of the metaphysical aspects of the story, I can only comment: Really? ( )