Nothing Like the Sun - Anthony Burgess

  

I wouldn't have read this book had it not been for the fact that I'm now running out of titles from the Southwark electronic library that I'd consider reading...

Maybe I'm dumb, or maybe my English is not good enough yet, but man I struggled with this book. Granted, it is, unsurprisingly, like watching a Shakespeare play for me: I understand nothing for the first 15 minutes, then slowly things start to fall in place. The problem here is that reading for me is very much a start-stop thing, in particular these days, so I never really got in the flow of the supposed-16th century prose. 

On the plus side, I checked the Wikipedia entry for the book after I finished. Apparently I got all the main points, but that's hardly a sign of success, and that's not really the reason why one reads a book in the first place.

The Malayan Trilogy – Anthony Burgess

A book (well, actually three) that my mum gave me back in my teenage years. She asked me all smugly if I knew who Burgess was and, having just discovered Kubrick at the time, I had to disappoint (or impress?) her by saying that yes, I did know he was the guy who wrote A Clockwork Orange. After that pseudo high-brow cultural exchange, neither one of us read the trilogy for a good dozen years.

Turns out that the three books are just awesome. The atmosphere is very similar to that of many of my beloved Graham Greene novels, with a not-so-veiled critique of the white man and the wonders of colonization and “progress”. What I found particularly interesting is that the three books have a very different mood: Time for a Tiger is at times absolutely hilarious (and Nabby Adams and his love/dependence on warm beer is one of the best side-kicks I’ve ever come across), The Enemy in the Blanket is a much deeper exploration of love and envy than I thought I would encounter after reading the first book, and Beds in the East is the book that I would like all my students to read when they study the British decolonization process.

All in all, I probably enjoyed the book so much because Crabbe’s approach to colonialism reflects mine, and also because he goes out with a  bang (or a plop?)