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October 21, 2002
It’s a disillusioning moment to realise that, like parents, writers are just people like us, with the ability to at best make magic with words, and at worst use them well (sow a seed/make a baby). But they’re equally full of crap. Arrogant… petulanant… You’d have thought someone who said: “A person becomes a writer because they’re deficient… a writer kind of has to do it in order to keep his or her head on straight,” (Theroux) would realise the same was true for his mentor “Sir Vidia” (VS Naipaul) without feeling the need to trash him and his work.