The reader of Fireflies, a novel as alive with a keen (and more compassionate) awareness of the pathos and absurdity of Trinidad Indian life as V. S. Naipaul's early works, may doubt the sincerity of Shiva Naipaul's disillusion with his subject matter. Yet it is an amorphous society he depicts, fundamentally materialistic, bogus on its spiritual side, as unpromising to the sensitive artist as the English society of Dickens' time; but it falls short of that society, in Mr Naipaul's presentation, in lacking centres of moral growth. No such centre is provided by the Hindu Khoja family which, weakly propped by tradition, is shown crumbling in an insecure atmosphere of selfishness and opportunism. The jungle laws of competition regulate everyone's actions. Everyone's, that is, except Mr Naipaul's triumphant creation, the simple and simple-minded Mrs Lutchman…. [She] endures in the midst of decay, salvaging what she can in the name of a stability which is its own justification…. To have concentrated for over 400 pages upon so barren a life without forfeiting interest and sympathy is, especially when seen against the love agonies of our customary novelistic diet, a uniquely admirable achievement. It is sustained in a Wellsian manner in Part I by scenes of bitter-sweet comedy centring upon Ram's confrontations with photography, gardening and his Morris Minor, and throughout by dramatic set pieces involving the "clan", such as the Khoja "cattha" …, the elder Mrs Khoja's dying (the death of the past) and an anachronistic Hindu "Christmas." These parts of the narrative convey, without authorial comment, a strong impression of the sterility and aimlessness of the society both Naipauls have despaired of. Yet it is to be hoped that Shiva Naipaul will not desert the Mrs Lutchmans; after her lumpish son Bhaskar has sailed for England and educational enlightenment, this moving, commonplace heroine is left in a memorable last paragraph longing "for nothing", soothed only by a breeze from the sickly canefields. She will go on needing Mr Naipaul's compassionate plea. (pp. 71-2)