"The reason is that they define how I have gone about my business. I have trusted to intuition. I did it at the beginning. I do it even now. I have no idea how things might turn out, where in my writing I might go next"
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Naipaul frames uncertainty not as a hurdle but as the engine of his art, and that’s a quietly combative stance coming from a writer so often caricatured as severe, controlled, even doctrinaire. The line’s sly power is in its deflation of mastery. He’s not selling the romantic myth of the inspired genius; he’s insisting that a serious career can be built on something that sounds almost irresponsible: intuition. In a literary culture that rewards manifestos, programs, and “projects,” Naipaul claims allegiance to the unplanned drift of attention.
The phrasing matters. “How I have gone about my business” treats writing as labor, not therapy. Then he undercuts the managerial tone with “trusted,” a word that admits risk and dependence. Intuition here isn’t a mood; it’s a method that resists being audited. By repeating “I did it… I do it even now,” he turns a private practice into a long-term ethic, as if consistency itself is the proof.
The subtext is also defensive. Naipaul’s work - shaped by displacement, postcolonial fracture, and the brutal clarity of observation - was frequently read through politics first, aesthetics second. This is him reasserting authorship: he’s not following a party line, nor chasing outcomes that flatter an audience’s expectations. “I have no idea” becomes a refusal to pre-package meaning. The context, then, is a veteran novelist reminding us that the only honest map is drawn after the journey, and that any writer who claims to know where they’re going is probably already writing propaganda - even if it’s propaganda for themselves.
The phrasing matters. “How I have gone about my business” treats writing as labor, not therapy. Then he undercuts the managerial tone with “trusted,” a word that admits risk and dependence. Intuition here isn’t a mood; it’s a method that resists being audited. By repeating “I did it… I do it even now,” he turns a private practice into a long-term ethic, as if consistency itself is the proof.
The subtext is also defensive. Naipaul’s work - shaped by displacement, postcolonial fracture, and the brutal clarity of observation - was frequently read through politics first, aesthetics second. This is him reasserting authorship: he’s not following a party line, nor chasing outcomes that flatter an audience’s expectations. “I have no idea” becomes a refusal to pre-package meaning. The context, then, is a veteran novelist reminding us that the only honest map is drawn after the journey, and that any writer who claims to know where they’re going is probably already writing propaganda - even if it’s propaganda for themselves.
Quote Details
| Topic | Writing |
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