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From 1998, Paul Theroux on his friendship with V. S. Naipaul
From 1999, letters between V. S. Naipaul and his family
New York City. The nineteen-nineties. One fall afternoon, a black writer renowned for his examination of colonialism leaves a restaurant in lower Manhattan in the company of two friends, one white, one black. The man is in a hurry to get uptown, where his family is waiting for him. He tries to flag down a passing cab. It doesn't stop. A second cab pulls up. The driver appears to be a dark-skinned Indian. He looks at the writer, and at the other black man, standing next to him; their white friend, behind them, is not visible from the taxi. ...