I found by happenstance this author's New Yorker article about a dinner party for V.S. Naipaul. I had never heard of him before, but being a Naipaul fan I was drawn in. Incidentally, I am always a sucker for these types of articles that relate a dinner party, or a lunch with a prominent author or other notable (I'm a great follower of Lunch with the FT). Maybe I am just always hungry. At any rate, Cole wrote the article so well--equally reverential and critical of Naipaul--I was compelled to check his latest book out at the library. He is a young writer, but capable with his language of bringing out real feeling and emotion. The book is not plot-driven. If it's about anything it's about the thoughts of a man who has immigrated from Nigeria (Cole is of Nigerian ancestry) to New York. He wanders the city and ponders. This is very much an intellectual's book, but not written in a pretentious way. I think it will find a home with readers of Nicholson Baker, Joseph O'Neil and Junot Diaz.
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