Half a Life is a tiresome little tale from an author described by The Observer as 'The Greatest Living writer of English Prose', V S Naipaul. Partly named after Somerset Maugham, the story is about William Somerset Chandran and describes the life of Indians living in postcolonial times. Willie's family life is one long shabby excuse for "what might have been".

His father, the son of Indian Civil servants escapes his predetermined life with an unfortunate marriage to a low-caste woman. Whilst trying to follow "the Mahatma's call" he gives up speaking. This in turn, earns him respect as a Sadhu and gives him celebrity status with visiting English writers. Bitterly disappointed with the two children from his marriage, he procures a scholarship for Willy to study in England.

Willy is entranced by the bohemian lifestyle of post-war England with its dingy West-End clubs and free sexual attitudes. In London, he is "adopted" by an eccentric English writer who encourages him to take up writing and even finds him a publisher.

On publication of his first book, Willy receives a letter from a fan, Ana. Loathe to return to India at the end of his education and a little tired of London life, Willy marries Ana and returns to her home in a province of Portuguese Africa - possibly colonial Mozambique. He spends the next two decades pretending to be a plantation owner, lunching with an eccentric group of neighbouring plantation owners, businessmen and their bored wives. This environment is like the last enclave of colonialism. Living a stifling and myopic existence, the Portuguese cling together fearing the loss of what they never actually had.

Soon bored with his wife and his life, Willy consorts with Alvaro, the estate manager of the neighbouring Correias. Alvaro introduces him to the seamier side of town and Willy starts visiting prostitutes. He then meets Graca, the slightly slow wife of Jacinto and starts an affair with her.

All of this to a backdrop of increasing civil tension, with rebel guerrillas wanting to overthrow the government and end the Portuguese hold on their country. The final chapter sees Willy Chandran moving to Germany, wishing to end his marriage to Ana, declaring "I am forty-one. I am tired of living your life. I have been in hiding too long". Quite the best ending I've read in the long time is Ana's reply "Perhaps it wasn't really my life either".

Willy Chandran's character is that of an irresolute, whining, idler. He latches onto Ana fearing that he had nowhere else to go. He fails to follow up on a literary career, choosing instead to lead the indolent life of a faux-plantation owner. From the outset, cynicism and defeatism set the tone. The book's only redeeming feature is that V S Naipaul's grasp on English prose is truly masterful and his observation acute as always. This book has none of the charm of Naipaul's earlier books, 'The Mystic Masseur' or 'Miguel Street' and I can't help feeling that the author is sinking into a vein of deep melancholy.

Never mind Half a Life, I felt like saying, "Get a Life"!

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