Summary of “Salvatore by Somerset Maugham”

 Summary of “Salvatore by Somerset Maugham”

The short story by Somerset Maugham, Salvatore, deals with a simple fisherman who lives on the Italian island of Ischia. Maugham begins by saying, “I wonder if I can do it.” He doubts whether he would be successful in portraying the character of an ordinary fisherman leading an ordinary life with qualities  incredible and extraordinary and if he would be able to hold the attention of readers through a normal description of a simple man in possession of an uncommon mindset and the rarest and the most treasured quality of goodness in him. He recounts in a few pages, the life of Salvatore, one of the most appreciable portrait in Maugham's gallery of exceptional individuals.

Salvatore was the son of an Italian  fisherman. As a boy of fifteen, he would laze on the beach  with few clothes on his brown rail like physique. Being familiar with swimming, he moved in and out of the sea with a comfortable ease and  an effortless grace. He climbed the pointed sharp edged hills, jumped in the delightful water and nursed his siblings with an ever present smile and never fading kindness. He supervised them when they ventured too far, dressed and fed them  with love.

He grew up fast and after sometime found himself  head long in love with a beautiful girl who  “had eyes like forest pools and held herself like a daughter of the Caesars.” She lived on the Grande Marina. They got engaged but he was allowed to marry after his formal military training for which he had to leave his beloved hometown as well as his most prized possession, his fiancée. When he left the island so dear to his soul for the first time in his life to join as a sailor in the navy of King Victor Emmanuel, he wept like a small child. 

Salvatore, least bothered about the worries and hassles of a regular life,  enjoyed a life of freedom and carefree attitude. If anything consumed his undivided attention, it was his love for the pretty girl. He experienced a rapturous delight and contentment in the little white cottage among the vines, the silent paths and the mountains and the sea, the pearly dawn of Vesuvius and the exquisitely beautiful sunset of  Ischia.

 He observed such a strong bond with his native land where he had spent the most impressionable years of his life that “when he ceased to have them before his eyes he realized in some dim fashion that they were as much part of him as his hands and his feet.  He was dreadfully homesick.”

He found it extremely difficult to work in a shackled environment at the beck and call of others. He struggled  to free himself from the authoritarian dominance that was against the bird like freedom he enjoyed in Ischia. He hated “to walk in noisy, friendless cities with streets so crowded that he was frightened to cross them.”However the most painful experience that tormented him and made his heart bleed was his separation from his soul mate, the girl he loved with the passionate intensity of his heart. “He wrote to her (in his childlike handwriting) long, ill-spelt letters in which he told her how constantly he thought of her and how much he longed to be back.” 

 In the capacity of a sailor, he travelled widely. He went to  Spezzia, to Venice, to Ban and finally to China. But his heart remained entangled in the attractions of  Ischia. Then, it happened so that he fell ill and remained in hospital for months. He bore the mysterious ailment with an uncomplainingly passive resignation and waited patiently to get well but the moment it dawned on him that he was suffering from rheumatism, that incapacitated him and rendered him  unfit for military services, his joys knew no bound. He felt a surge of an indescribable delight at the thought of going home and  meeting his loved ones that he turned a deaf ear to the doctor’s apprehension that he would never be cured of the ailment. “What did he care when he was going back to the little island he loved so well and the girl who was waiting  for him?”

When he reached home, he was lovingly and tearfully received by the doting family. “There was a great deal of kissing when he jumped up the steps and they all, emotional creatures, cried a little when they exchanged their greetings.”  His intent look surveyed the crowd to have a glimpse of his heart’s desire but he couldn’t see the girl. His patience gave way and he asked his mother. She said she had not seen her for a couple of weeks. The boy, desperate to meet his beloved started out on a romantic evening “when the moon was shining over the placid sea and the lights of Naples twinkled in the distance” to the Grande Marina to her house. He found her sitting at the doorstep with her mother. He approached her with a shy smile and the warmth of an inexhaustible emotional intensity of true love. But the girl did not reciprocate. Her looks were cold and distant. They had been informed of his home coming and his incurable ailment. His sweetheart   told him unabashedly, “with the blunt directness of her race that she could not marry a man who would never be strong enough to work like a man.”  He was left wondering and speculating if there were other issues more important than a pure heart’s feelings for another heart. His return that he considered fortuitous was actually calamitous, he despairingly realized now. He knew that he would be cured in spite of the doctor. But the family was adamant, “They had made up their minds, her mother and father and she, and her father would never give consent.”

Back home, he realized everyone was aware of his predicament. The callous declaration had been conveyed by the father of the girl. The family did not, however have the heart to reveal the heart breaking news. He was sad, depressed and unhappy at the humiliating rejection. He felt beaten, wrecked and wretched. In spite of his going through the wringer, he had no ill will against the girl. He analyzed her situation and concluded that she was compelled by the circumstances to behave in an inconsiderate and unkind manner. “A fisherman's life is hard and it needs strength and endurance.  He knew very well that a girl could not afford to marry a man who might not be able to support her.”He let out his unbearable pain of shattered love by crying out his heart on his “mother’s bosom” but refrained from speaking anything against the girl who ditched him for her selfish monetary pursuits. 

A few months later, when he returned to his unvarying work, fishing and toiling on his father’s vine yard, with an unflagging energy or so it seemed, his mother confided to him that he had a proposal of a girl who had fallen for him. Her name was Assunta. Salvatore, it seemed, was still under the charm of the enchanting beauty of his first love. He blurted out "She's as ugly as the devil." Also, she was older than him. Her fiancé had been killed.  “She had a little money of her own and if Salvatore married her she could buy him a boat of his own and they could take a vineyard that by happy chance happened at that moment to be without a tenant.”

With an effervescent and sweet smile on his face, Salvatore promised to think over the issue and the next Sunday, he was in church to have a close look at her. May be, he reflected upon his offensive statement and dressed himself “in the stiff black clothes in which he looked so much less well than in the ragged shirt and trousers of every day.” He gave his consent. Perhaps, he had imbibed in himself more lessons of true essence of religion than his so called socially and spiritually enlightened counterparts.

Presently, they married, settled down and had children, two boys. They lived a life that breathed of joy and contentment on one hand and struggle and unvarying toil on the other hand. Now, Salvatore had grown up to be a man, big and strong, tall, broad and masculine, “but still with that ingenuous smile and those trusting, kindly eyes that he had as a boy.” Assunta had a serious look on her face and looked old for her age. But she had a beautiful heart brimming with love and genuine appreciation for her husband’s gentle sweetness and unassuming goodness. She was docile and submissive. Her ceaseless devotion and smiling countenance was especially noticeable when her husband behaved more responsibly and confidently in a trying situation. She, however, harbored an unforgiving grudge and deep resentment against the inconsistent  girl who had ditched her husband and “notwithstanding Salvatore's smiling expostulations she had nothing but harsh words for her.”

Life had its challenges, strife and struggle but he remained dauntless and undeterred in the face of the ups and downs of life. All through the fishing season, he toiled hard catching fish and selling them in the market. At other times, he displayed an unrelenting spirit by working “ in his vineyard from dawn till the heat drove him to rest and then again, when it was a trifle cooler, till dusk.”When rheumatism obstructed his daily routine, he lay on the beach, smoking cigarettes and using his leisure in building up relationship with people with his contagious smile and obliging and friendly disposition. He bore patiently and uncomplainingly, the pain that “racked his limbs.” The sarcastically inconsiderate attacks of the foreigners indicting his community of laziness were dismissed by his carefree attitude as pardonable.

Salvatore was devoted to his family. He was full of love and care for his kids. He enjoyed giving them a bath at the sea. He observed a delicacy while handling his kids. The strong hard hands became tender and delicate just like flowers as he held them affectionately. When he sat the small baby on his palm, he would laugh and cheer innocently like an angel and his eyes reflected the purity, honesty,  openness and a childlike innocence, enthusiasm and delight. The writer describes Salvatore in his young days with a pleasant face, a laughing mouth and care-free eyes. Then, he is portrayed   as “a fellow … still with that ingenuous smile and those trusting, kindly eyes that he had as a boy. He had the most beautiful manners I have ever seen in my life.”

The writer goes on to describe the rarest and the most treasured quality of goodness possessed by Salvatore. His goodness shone through. It radiated warmth and unconditional affection and gravitated people to himself. Though his life was shot through with disappointments, he never complained; he never blamed anybody for anything. He was inoffensive, kind, loving, obliging, friendly, considerate, wide eyed and innocent. He possessed nothing for the world except goodness, a quality intolerable to the world. Fortunately for Salvatore it was draped in humility and unconsciousness. He was a man of high self esteem that could never be punctured by criticism or rejection as he was too child like to remember grudges for long and forgave and forgot easily.

Summary of “B. Wordsworth by V.S .Naipaul”

Summary of “B. Wordsworth by V.S .Naipaul”

''B. Wordsworth'' is a story of a tragic character narrated from the point of view of an innocent but keenly observant and inquisitive boy  who lives on Miguel street. It is set in post colonial Trinidad, Port of Spain during the Great Depression, at a time when the country was experiencing the great economic crisis. The story opens with the description of some beggars who religiously paid a visit to the compassionate and hospitable homes of Miguel street. Sometimes a rogue demanding to be fed or lighted a cigarette also paid visit. People were generous enough to meet his requirements. However, such beggars were rare. But, one day  “the strangest caller” called at about four o’clock after the narrator had returned from school and was dressed in his “home clothes.”The narrator addressed him “Sonny” and sought permission from him to enter his yard. He expressed his ardent desire to watch the bees that haunted the  “four small gru-gru palm trees.” The man was  a small man, dressed in neat clothes. “He wore a hat, white shirt and black trousers .He spoke impeccable and flawless English.

The boy asked his mother who reluctantly gave her consent but asked the boy to keep watch as she looked up at him with worried suspicion. The man and the boy watched the bees for an hour, squatting near the palm trees. The man asked the boy a number of questions regarding his interests-whether he liked watching bees, or if he had watched ants and scorpions and centipedes and congorees. The boy gave him the typical answer, common to the  modern lifestyle that has no leisure to derive bliss and happiness from the tranquilizing objects of nature.
 The boy, who is quizzical and inquisitive asks a barrage of questions about Wordsworth's life, like what the 'B' in his name stands for, and what B. does for a living.

It's at this point that we begin to learn B. Wordsworth’s  poetic, and possibly fantastical, view on life. He tells the boy that B. stands for 'Black', and that he had a brother, 'White,' with whom he shared a heart. He could also see a flower and cry like him. He says that he is one of the greatest poets of all time, yet he has never sold a poem. His effort to sell a poem to the boy's mother was snubbed at by the small minded, intolerant mother  who was too busy settling the necessities that she hardly had time for life’s delicacies. Before leaving, the man kindled in him a fiery passion with his prophetic prediction, that the boy was as good a poet as he was.

The man left and the boy longed to see him again. The boy did not have to wait too long. Returning from school, one afternoon, he spotted B. Wordsworth at the corner of  Miguel Street a week later. B. Wordsworth invited him to his house, a one roomed hut in the centre of a yard in Alberto Street.  The boy grew fond of Wordsworth and the two became close friends. The yard was all green and there were a mango tree, a coconut and a palm tree. It was not spruced or done up, The place looked wild and there was no concrete establishment nearby. The boy tasted the mangoes that were ripe and sweet and juicy as promised by. B. Wordsworth. The mangoes were so delicious and juicy that he could not stop himself from eating six of them. The juice trickled down his arms to elbows and down his chin to hi shirt that was stained. His mother got exasperated and furious at his wayward grown up ways. This earned him a good spanking at home. He was angry and his nose bled.

He left the house with a will never to return and tried to derive solace from his new friend B. Wordsworth. Wordsworth took the inconsolable boy for a walk. They lay on the grass and watched the stars. Wordsworth introduced the boy to the unknown realms of stars and familiarized him with the constellation of Orion, the Hunter which the narrator remembers even today. Suddenly, the boy felt he was big and great as he had never felt before.  The experiment outdoors furnishes us with a greater understanding of the world. For example, in the story, when the boy was looking at the stars, he started to understand more about who he is, as a person and what his purpose in life is. B. Wordsworth’s pondering remark that he had been asking the same question-what he had been doing here for the last forty years, is a statement on the insignificant life he had been leading.

He forgot his anger and pain and whip lashes, reminding us of the healing power of Nature. As their relationship continued, B. Wordsworth and the boy spend their time together walking, talking, meandering and wandering about around the seaboard, the Savannah, the race course, Botanical Gardens, Rock Gardens and the Chancellor Hill watching with a renewed zest and interest, the Port of Spain gradually enveloping in darkness and the lights illuminating the city and the ships in the harbor; living as poets and explorers and interpreters of life.

One day, when the boy was in Wordsworth's house, he inquired about the wild bushes in his yard that keep the place damp. He shared a story with the boy, of two poets who were married and how the girl and the unborn baby poet died due to some pregnancy complications. The girl loved the luxuriant green and therefore her husband  let the green lush continue in love of his wife and never touched the garden again and it “grew high and wild.” He didn't understand the story at first, but as Wordsworth's health deteriorated, he understood it more and more. The boy's world became a more exciting place with Wordsworth in it. He began looking at life with the keen and observant eyes of a poet.

Later on, the two had a conversation about B. Wordsworth's poetry writing skill while on a dock at the beach. B. Wordsworth confided to the narrator another secret, this one about a poem. This was not an ordinary poem, like the type of poems he had tried to sell for four cents, but “the greatest poem in the world.'' He had been working on it for five years and expected to complete the masterpiece in twenty two years if he worked at the same pace, writing one good  line, a month. He planned to write a magnificent poem that would address humanity The previous month's line: ''The past is deep.'' spell bound the boy to the extent that he craved for more.

The boy tried to inquire about the developments and about any new lines that he wrote but the poet chose not to respond and maintained silence The boy, however remains optimistic and enthusiastic about  B. Wordsworth's poetry and his poetry business, harboring a thought that , one day his poem would surely fetch him a handsome amount and he “will be the richest man in the world.” B. Wordsworth showed no excitement or enthusiasm. The narrator expressed his concern when the poet explained that his earnings from Calypso singing last him the whole year through. As he began to understand where B. Wordsworth came from and what he had lived through, he seemed like a new person to him."He did everything as though he were doing it for the first time in his life." He lived every moment with joy and pleasure, because he knew that at any moment, it could be his last.

One day, the boy went to meet him in his little house. The boy felt like crying at the pitiable condition of the poet. It seemed the pains of life and his powerlessness to change his destiny had made him enervated and old. He said that his poem was not doing well. The narrator saw Death writ large on his shriveled and shrunken face. B. Wordsworth noticed that the boy had noticed the approaching death and was happy that  he had developed a poet’s eye. In this last meeting,  B. Wordsworth makes the boy promise not to visit him again. In this last meeting, he asks if the boy wants to hear a funny story. The story, not-so-funny after all, is that B. had lied about the girl poet and the baby. He had also lied about writing the greatest poem. And with that, he send the boy on his way.

B. Wordsworth is very fond of the boy. He loves to be in his company. When he meets him the second time, he shows the eagerness of long lost friends. He invites him to his place. He said, "In my yard I have the best mango tree in Port of Spain. And now the mangoes are ripe and red and very sweet and juicy. I have waited here for you to tell you this and to invite you to come and eat some of my mangoes." Even when he is on the brink of death, he does not want him to carry sad memories about the poet and his unrealized dreams and quashed aspirations.  

The boy was left with a great memory of a great poet and  great observer of Nature and life who had taught him to view life as something new, unexplored and worth experimenting. He asked the boy, "Isn't that the funniest thing you've ever hear." His voice broke and the boy knew that it was not funny. It was not a lie. It was the stark truth that he lived with and died of. He ran home sobbing. He had joined the puzzle bits together and understood the whole story, after all, he had developed the heart and eye of a poet. He never saw or heard of Wordsworth again. A year later, as he walked along Alberto Street, he saw no sign of Wordsworth's old house. It had been demolished and a large two-storied concrete  building stood in its place. His trees had been cut down and bricks littered the foundation. "It was just as though B. Wordsworth had never existed."People’s love for concrete had made them devour the resplendent Nature. ”The Mango tree and the plum tree and the coconut tree had all been cut down.”

                        

The story “B.WORDSWORTH”by V.S.Naipaul reflects a universal theme - the search for identity and meaning in life.

The story “B.WORDSWORTH”by V.S.Naipaul reflects a universal theme - the search for identity and meaning in life.

 The main  themes of this  postcolonial story “B.WORDSWORTH” by V.S.Naipaul are varied but they  mainly depict struggles of native people against the difficulty to establish their own identity, the unpredictable changes in economy, the uncertainty of future and cultural confusion, issues too unsavory to devour. B. Wordsworth is in many ways an archetypal figure in that he embodies a universal theme - the search for identity and meaning in life. He fights to the finish to maintain his independence and identity. However, he falters in his calculations and fails miserably and remains a kind of everyman whose identity crisis is a never ending story.

The imperious colonizers had a deep rooted mindset that compelled them to control their colonies and change their national identities and interests by means of education. They impacted the thoughts and ideas held by the impressionable younger generation through implanting colonial ideologies in their minds. Consequently, the original culture and identity and the fossilized mindset of the coming generation were lost in the new pendulous world order. Understandably, for the realization of their so called noble aim of bringing about civilization in the illiterate, indecorous and uncivilized world, they introduced their literatures to the colonies and tried to eliminate their native, indigenous cultures. It is because of this that B.Wordsworth has a fascination for imitation of western ways as well as writing of poetry in the colonizer’s language. He imitates and reflects colonizers’ lifestyle and views. "He was a small man and he was tidily dressed. He wore a hat, a white shirt and black trousers. The man was so impressed by the dress sense of the British that he chose to cling to the laid down parameters of the British dress code.

I asked, "What you want?" He said, "I want to watch your bees." His English was so good, it didn't sound natural, and I could see my mother was worried. She said to me, "Stay here and watch him while he watch the bees." The man said, "Thank you, Madam. You have done a good deed today." He spoke very slowly and very correctly as though every word was costing him money.” His impeccable and flawless English intimidates the young boy because he feels  that the man is highly educated and refined. When the young boy asks his name the man responds, "Black Wordsworth. White Wordsworth was my brother. We share one heart." He got up and said, "I am a poet." I said, "A good poet?" He said, "The greatest in the world." I can watch a small flower like the morning glory and cry.” The "White Wordsworth" that the man spoke of is William Wordsworth. This famous Romantic poet was known for his love for Nature. The imitation of colonizers identity made him establish an instant correlation with the literary tradition of English literature.   He wrote in the pattern of the great poet, Wordsworth, a poem that would address humanity when it was ready after twenty two years. He said, "I have been working on it for more than five years now. I just write one line a month. But I make sure it is a good line." I asked, "What was last month's good line?" He looked up at the sky, and said, "The past is deep.” His choice of William Wordsworth as his mentor poet, underlines that he has lost his original identity to the West.

B. Wordsworth is a lover of Nature. Surrounded by overgrown weeds, bushes and trees, he lived in Alberto Street in a one-roomed hut. “The yard seemed all green. There was a big mango tree. There was a coconut tree and there was a plum tree. The place looked wild, as though it wasn't in the city at all. You couldn't see all the big concrete houses in the street. The mangoes were sweet and juicy.”

 The story also explores the relationship between the individual and his society, and of course the unending, gnawing and damning dilemma, he  experiences to adjust in. The colonial experience made Africans feel they were living in-between two worlds. They were “hybrid people.” Their zealous wish to keep their culture and tradition alive, made them inextricably cling to them but at the same time they could not escape the inexorable elements that they explored to satisfy their craving for modernity or that the modern world imposed on them.

B. Wordsworth falls into this category. Despite his western inclinations, he has not  lost his traditions and values, as is seen in the expression,  "How you does live, Mr. Wordsworth?" I asked him one day. He said, "You mean how I get money?" When I nodded, he laughed in a crooked way. He said, "I sing calypsoes in the calypso season." He has not acquired the love for monetary gains as preached by the Western thought. He keeps on writing in spite of the fact  that his poetry fails to do business. Nobody is ready to buy his poetry. “He pulled out a printed sheet from his hip-pocket and said, "On this paper is the greatest poem about mothers and I'm going to sell it to you at a bargain price. For four cents." I went inside and I said, "Ma, you want to buy a poetry for four cents?" My mother said, "Tell that blasted man to haul his tail away from my yard, you hear."  I said, "Is a funny way to go round selling poetry like that. Only calypsonians do that sort of thing.” 

He is shown to have an appreciation for all things natural, showing a thoughtful insight toward Trinidad and its surroundings. “We went for long walks together. We went to the Botanical Gardens and the Rock Gardens. We climbed Chancellor Hill in the late afternoon and watched the darkness fall on Port of Spain, and watched the lights go on in the city and on the ships in the harbour.”

The impact of colonization can be seen here. The story is set in Trinidad on Miguel Street during the Great Depression. There are many beautiful sights to behold in Trinidad, but no one has the time or money to admire them. In times of economic hardship, people are more bothered about making both ends meet  than wasting time in watching  bees or other beautiful  sights.

 The colonized subjects learn how to speak the settlers’ language, and bit by bit, they find themselves mixing their native language with that of the colonizer. This is obvious in the language spoken by the mother and son. They do not speak refined English- My mother said when I got home, "Where you was? You think you is a man now and could go all over the place? Or the boy "But why you does keep on going round, then?"  "You really think I is a poet?" "You sell any poetry yet?"  "Mister Wordsworth, why you does keep all this bush in your yard? Ain't it does make the place damp?"

According to Ninkovich, “An identity crisis is a period of disorientation in which values and relationships once taken for granted are thrown into question. Questions of self-adjustment  bedevil individuals caught up in an identity crisis like” who am I?” and “where do I belong?”

The torn between two worlds local who reflected the feelings of the native subjects but supported western education and self consciously followed the western ideology as a sign of superiority,  had difficulty in finding his real self. He faced the dilemma of recognition and  had to  struggle to prove his identity. He was a lost man caught in the vicious circle of  who he really is, and where he really wants to belong. This is poignantly expressed when the policeman questions him, "What you doing here?" B. Wordsworth said, "I have been asking myself the same question for forty years."

It was obvious that such a man experienced identity crisis and was alienated and perceived as a stranger to his own people. Now, to satiate his earnest quest for belongingness, he preferred to create his own world, a world of “reconciliation” with tradition and bearing of the new identity. He wanted to maintain bonds with his community so that he did not remain alone or alienated. He did not want to be alienated in both  worlds, the world he lived in and the world he normally belonged to. But he was mostly unsuccessful in bridging the gap and the natives could never repose faith in him or praise his endeavors. The mother of the narrator looked at him with distrustful eyes and ordered her son to keep a close watch. She thrashed the boy when he returned late one evening after meeting B.Wordsworth and she refused to buy his poetry and called him “blasted man.”What is surprising is that the man is accustomed to such treatment by the natives- “B. Wordsworth said, "It is the poet's tragedy." And he put the paper back in his pocket. He didn't seem to mind.”

Toward the end, we find B. Wordsworth caught between the two worlds. No respect and appreciation from his world and no acceptance by the world of his aspirations. He is a true artist having feelings of consideration   and  concern for humanity. He does not want the boy to follow his footsteps and end up wrecked and broken or meet the same fate. That is why he declares to the narrator that he had fabricated everything. He said, "The poem is not going well." "When I was twenty I felt the power within myself." He said, "But that-that was a long time ago." And then-I felt so keenly Death on the shrinking face. He pulled me to his thin chest, and said, "Do you want me to tell you a funny story?" That story I told you about the boy poet and the girl poet, do you remember that? That wasn't true. It was something I just made up. All this talk about poetry and the greatest poem in the world, that wasn't true, either. Isn't that the funniest thing you have heard?" But his voice broke.”

He could see before his eyes his artistic magnificence wrecked and his struggle to create an identity for himself thwarted and stifled.

Love of Nature depicted in the story B.Wordsworth by V. S . Naipaul.

Love of Nature  depicted in the story B.Wordsworth by V. S . Naipaul.

Love for Nature in the story is reflected through the characters of both  B. Wordsworth and the narrator. The mother, however is least bothered with the feast of delight, in the form of bees, in her back yard, that attract the strangers but fail to arouse her sensibility. She depreciates  poetry and nature and  chastises the narrator for having an interest in this beauty because she is shut out to the nature that surrounds her. The story opens in a natural setting.

 B. Wordsworth, the  poet-calypsonian makes his first appearance in the  story and the first question that he poses the  young boy,  the narrator with, is if he can watch bees that have taken up residence in four small gru-gru palm trees in the narrator's backyard.
Together with the boy, who is deputed to keep a watch over him by his distrustful and  suspicious mother, they squat before the palm trees and watch  the bees for an hour. While observing the  swarm of bees, he searches for similar interests in the boy and asks him whether he liked watching bees, or if he had watched ants and scorpions and centipedes and congorees. The boy gives him the typical answer, common to the  modern lifestyle that he has no leisure to derive bliss and happiness from the tranquilizing objects of nature.

 B. Wordsworth is a poet who asserts the importance of respecting nature. He stresses that even the smallest creations of God in nature, such as bees buzzing around a bush, are beautiful and we should appreciate them as they might end up teaching us the greatest lessons of life. He believes that Nature acts as a panacea to cure the ills of society. It has a soothing and calming effect on us when we are tormented by the pains and afflictions of life. When the boy is thrashed and mercilessly whipped by his mother for having soiled his shirt, he flees to his new friend swearing that he will never return home. B. Wordsworth takes him on a walk. They lie down on the grass and watch the stars.

Wordsworth introduces the boy to the unknown realms of stars and familiarizes him with the constellation of Orion, the Hunter which the narrator remembers even today. Suddenly, the boy is overwhelmed with the feeling and realization that he has grown big and great as he had never felt before. "I felt like nothing, and at the same time I had never felt so big and great in all my life." He felt small compared to the stars, but he realized that out of every single person in the world, he is the only one who can be him. And no one can ever take that away from him.”His anger, pain, anguish, tears and cruel blows vanish away in the healing lap of Nature. This establishes that Nature has a healing influence on the aggrieved souls. The experiment outdoors furnishes us with a greater understanding of the world. For example, in the story, when the boy was looking at the stars, he started to understand more about who he is, as a person and what his purpose in life is. He took the character in the open sky and the curative property of Nature "healed" his spirits. The powerful image of the beautiful night sky makes us realize there is a universe much larger than ours.

When the young boy asks what his name is, the man responds, "Black Wordsworth. White Wordsworth was my brother. We share one heart."  The "White Wordsworth" that the man speaks of is William Wordsworth. Wordsworth, the great Romantic poet is known for his love for nature and simplicity. He had some unprecedented works to his credit. The same traits are visible in the fictional character B. Wordsworth – minus the published works. B. Wordsworth is a vagabond who lives in a simple, one room hut surrounded by overgrown weeds, luxuriant bushes and trees. The yard was all green and there were a mango tree, a coconut and a palm tree.

The place looked wild, as though it wasn't in the city at all. It was not spruced or done up, The place looked wild and there was no concrete establishment nearby. When the poet questions why he had kept the place damp with thick bushes, he narrates a tale that depicts a love for the natural wild. He shares a story with the boy, of two poets who were married and how the girl and the unborn baby poet died due to some pregnancy complications. The girl loved the luxuriant green and therefore her husband let the green lush continue in love of his wife and never touched the garden again and it “grew high and wild.” He is shown to have an appreciation for all things natural, showing a thoughtful insight toward the world and its surroundings.

In his second meeting, he invites the narrator to his house to feast on mangoes, "In my yard I have the best mango tree in Port of Spain. And now the mangoes are ripe and red and very sweet and juicy. I have waited here for you to tell you this and to invite you to come and eat some of my mangoes."

 As their relationship continued, B. Wordsworth and the boy spend their time together walking, talking, meandering and wandering about around the seaboard, the Savannah, the race course, Botanical Gardens, Rock Gardens and the Chancellor Hill watching with a renewed zest and interest, the Port of Spain gradually enveloping in darkness and the lights illuminating the city and the ships in the harbor; living as poets and explorers and interpreters of life.

As a calypsonian, B. Wordsworth takes out time to observe the mysteries of nature and existence and from these observations he distills lessons. The boy narrates an incident, “We walked along the sea wall at Dock site one day, and I said, 'Mr. Wordsworth, if I drop this pin in the water, you think it will float?' He said, 'This is a strange world. Drop your pin, and let us see what will happen. 'The pin sank.“ This image of the pin being dropped in the sea reflects the uncertainty of life, and because Wordsworth is a poet, he can see what nature is trying to tell us.

The purpose behind the depiction of Beauty lying scattered can be to motivate people lost in the hum drum of life to appreciate the beauty in the nature that surrounds us and appreciate poetry. B. Wordsworth died and the boy was left with a great memory of a great poet and  great observer of Nature and life who had taught him to view life as something new, unexplored and worth experimenting.

 It seems that Wordsworth came into the boy's life to teach him to love and appreciate the beautiful and lovely images of Nature scattered around him. He is ignorant to the beauty of the world before Wordsworth and after he dies, the boy is able to cry like a poet just as B. Wordsworth said,  I can watch a small flower like the morning glory and cry." I said, Why you does cry?" "Why, boy? Why? You will know when you grow up. You're a poet too, you know. And when you're a poet you can cry for everything."

 A year later, as he walked along Alberto Street, he saw no sign of Wordsworth's old house. "I walked along Alberto Street a year later, but I could find no sign of the poet’s house. It hadn’t vanished, just like that. It had been pulled down.” It had been demolished and a large two-storied concrete building stood in its place. His trees had been cut down and bricks littered the foundation. People’s love for concrete had made them devour the resplendent Nature. ”The Mango tree and the plum tree and the coconut tree had all been cut down.”

Cutting down of the  fruit trees and dismantling the house and green wild  yard so reverently and religiously  maintained in its wild state by Wordsworth and raising a  creation of concrete by  man symbolizes the lack of concern on behalf of man to appreciate the beauty found in nature. This razed to the ground the values Wordsworth stood for. "It was just as though B. Wordsworth had never existed."

The tendency of escapism in B. Wordsworth by V.S. Naipaul.

    

The tendency of escapism in B. Wordsworth by V.S. Naipaul.

In order to deal with the crisis of identity and loneliness and his inability to fit in the world that detests him for his colonial ways and ideas, B. Wordsworth resorts to escapism. Man’s quest for happiness and dissatisfaction with the existing condition make him take refuge in any one of the mind’s “labyrinthine ways.” B. Wordsworth chose to give vent to his suppressed desires by writing Poetry and declaring to the world that, "I am a poet." I said, "A good poet?" He said, "The greatest in the world.

''B. Wordsworth'' is set in post colonial Trinidad, Port of Spain during the Great Depression, at a time when the country was experiencing the great economic crisis. Financial constraints and dire poverty compelled people to refrain from indulging in the entertainment of refined sensibilities. With no buyers or appreciators for Poetry, poets were losing the inspiration to write great poetry. When B. Wordsworth tried to sell his poem on Mothers, he was snubbed in the most insulting way. " B. Wordsworth said, "It is the poet's tragedy." And he put the paper back in his pocket.” Though, it appeared he didn’t mind, it would have given him blood oozing gashes. This could have been responsible for his aloofness and isolation from the common folks.

B. Wordsworth makes his comparison with William Wordsworth. He says that his name is “Black Wordsworth. White Wordsworth was my brother. We share one heart.”The tendency of escapism had affected him in the same way as it affected Wordsworth, the great poet of Nature. Wordsworth escaped from the din and bustle of the city life symbolized by restrictions, concrete and a life sans leisure, where there is no time to stand and stare to the serene and calm, glorious and luxuriant Nature.  Similarly B. Wordsworth loves to be in the rich company of Nature and derives pleasure by watching bees for hours. “The man said, "I like watching bees. Sonny, do you like watching bees?" I said, "I ain't have the time." He shook his head sadly. He said, "That's what I do, I just watch. I can watch ants for days. Have you ever watched ants? And scorpions, and centipedes, and congorees-have you watched those?" I can watch a small flower like the morning glory and cry.”

Wordsworth took shelter in the lap of Nature because it provided him relief from the vicious realities of life. Nature has a soothing effect on the aggrieved souls. This is proved by  B. Wordsworth. The narrator recalls that after being beaten up mercilessly by his mother he went to B. Wordsworth's house.” I was so angry, my nose was bleeding. B. Wordsworth said, "Stop crying, and we will go for a walk.". We went for a walk. We walked down St. Clair Avenue to the Savannah and we walked to the race-course. B. Wordsworth said, "Now, let us lie on the grass and look up at the sky, and I want you to think how far those stars are from us." I did as he told me, and I saw what he meant. I felt like nothing, and at the same time I had never felt so big and great in all my life. I forgot all my anger and all my tears and all the blows.”

William Wordsworth schooled himself to see into the life of things. He saw and appreciated the world with the delightful eyes of love and passion. His escapism provided him consolation and comfort in distress and pain and joy in the acts of everyday life. The same was true of B. Wordsworth. “We went for long walks together. We went to the Botanical Gardens and the Rock Gardens. We climbed Chancellor Hill in the late afternoon and watched the darkness fall on Port of Spain, and watched the lights go on in the city and on the ships in the harbour. He did everything as though he were doing it for the first time in his life. He did everything as though he were doing some church rite. He would say to me, "Now, how about having some ice cream?" And when I said yes, he would grow very serious and say, "Now, which café should we patronize?" The world became a most exciting place.”

Wordsworth’s escapism was from the fallen man and the fallen world. He glorified the child because he considered the child a  manifestation of the unstained purity  and power. He knew that his binding with man would “blind him to the loveliness that exists.” B. Wordsworth’s escapism echoes the same. He loves isolation. He is not shown interacting with anyone except the narrator. The narrator is a young innocent and inquisitive boy, devoid of any cunning or vice. He loves observing nature and is the poet’s soul companion. The poet loves him, feeds him and shares with him his dreams and ambitions and makes him a part of his escapist world. He said, "In my yard I have the best mango tree in Port of Spain. And now the mangoes are ripe and red and very sweet and juicy. I have waited here for you to tell you this and to invite you to come and eat some of my mangoes. He was right. The mangoes were sweet and juicy. I ate about six.”

Just like Wordsworth, he lived a solitary life in the lap of Nature. " He lived in Alberto Street in a one-roomed hut placed right in the centre of the lot. The yard seemed all green. There was a big mango tree. There was a coconut tree and there was a plum tree. The place looked wild, as though it wasn't in the city at all. You couldn't see all the big concrete houses in the street.” His love for the uninhabited wild made him treasure the damp bushes around his house. He had a romantic tale, most probably his own story to support his stand. One day I asked him, "Mister Wordsworth, why you does keep all this bush in your yard? Ain't it does make the place damp?" He said, "Listen, and I will tell you a story. Once upon a time a boy and girl met each other and they fell in love. They loved each other so much they got married. They were both poets. He loved words. She loved grass and flowers and trees. They lived happily in a single room, and then one day, the girl poet said to the boy poet, 'We are going to have another poet in the family.' But this poet was never born, because the girl died, and the young poet died with her inside her. And the girl's husband was very sad, and he said he would never touch a thing in the girl's garden. And so the garden remained, and grew high and wild.”  “The past is deep,” expresses   love for the past and dwelling on the reminiscences of love, separation and death of the loved ones were some other attributes of escapism.

Throughout the story, the poet calypsonian lived in the land of fantasy and imagination. It is said that “the spirit of man craves for something perfect, infinite and absolute.” Similarly B. Wordsworth created around him the aura of being ‘the greatest poet in the world’ and the greatest poem. “This is the greatest poem in the world…I have been working on it for more than five years now. I will finish it in about twenty-two years from now, that is, if I keep on writing at the present rate. I just write one line a month. I hope to distil the experiences of a whole month into that single line of poetry. So, in twenty-two years, I shall have written a poem that will sing to all humanity."But his dreams devoid of action could not see the light of the day. As he neared old age, the realization dawned. At the enthusiastic questions regarding his poetic success, he maintained a stoic silence. The stark reality was before him. He chose not to keep the innocent boy in dark. He loved his gullibility and naivety. He had helped  him in escaping from the lashes and abuses of his mother. Now was the time of revelation. When the narrator approached him, he looked old and weak. He said, "The poem is not going well."It was obvious that the pangs of failure had been gnawing his soul. He said, "When I was twenty I felt the power within myself." Then, almost in front of my eyes, I could see his face growing older and more tired. He said, "But that-that was a long time ago." And then-I felt so keenly, Death on the shrinking face. "He said, "When I have finished this story, I want you to promise that you will go away and never come back to see me. Do you promise?" I nodded. He said, That story I told you about the boy poet and the girl poet, do you remember that? That wasn't true. It was something I just made up. All this talk about poetry and the greatest poem in the world, that wasn't true, either.” The boy who was very sensitive and emotional could not bear to see his friend in such a wretched state. He ran home crying. His death was  the ultimate means of maturity for the young boy. For Wordsworth, it was just a figment of imagination or a truth he did not want the boy to see as it opened chapters of irrepressible pain. But for the boy it was “Truth that woke up to perish never.”