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Naipaul's third novel about a bunch of colorful characters living in a street in Port of Spain. This is unlike any other Naipaul I have read so far. I have read his work backwards starting with his later novels and then moving on to the earlier ones (a small write up by Tarun Tejpal inside the book recommends Miguel Street and The Mystic Masseur for first time readers of Naipaul). Miguel Street is not without its share of misery and darkness but it is mostly a hilarious novel tracing the antics of the Indian and West Indian characters who are in each others lives all the time.

Despite the easy air with which the Indian narrator tells the stories of the people in the street, Naipaul lets slip a bit of the misanthropy that would characterize some of his later work, in the second chapter itself - when the Indian narrator complains about a woman in the street who stares at him while he eats. The characters are boisterous, some of them reminded me of Willie Chandran (from Half a Life and Magic Seeds, jumping from one accident to another).

I took a while to get into the book. I didn't really get the humor in the beginning. But I am glad I stuck with it. It does get really hilarious in the middle and the ending is tinged with nostalgia and sadness as the narrator matures and grows out of the people in the street.