The main character is a writer whose only book, 20 years ago, was a smash hit spawning a line of travel-related merchandise. Now he's increasingly depressed that he hasn't been able to write a book since; and in an effort to re-ignite his career (perhaps with another "travel stunt" book like his first one), goes on a quest to sample a rare South American drug. I actually wanted to see more of the assholish rich travelers who were fully outfitted with the protagonist's merchandise--they were super-annoying in an entertaining way. The book got deeper into the protagonist's personal experience of a certain drug and his search for a kind of enlightenment. The middle section of the book, about his exuberant sex life and sexual fantasies past and present, went on way too long. Ironically, I had just dug up a 2009 issue of The Atlantic that had a short fiction piece by Theroux in which he outlines several disparate characters' sex lives in just a couple of paragraphs each. The latter story was so concise, you got a full picture of the person's experience in a very short amount of text. Some of the characters' experiences were almost duplicated in Blinding Light, but for dozens of pages. I felt that it paid off in the end, when we get another perspective on what was being experienced in the middle of the book, but there was a point in the middle where I almost gave up on the book. So not my favorite Theroux work, but still an interesting one.
Library Journal: Slade Steadman's first book, an edgy travel memoir called Trespassing , showcased his daring world travels as he crossed borders while evading passport checkpoints. It catapulted him into cult status, spawning countless fans, a TV show, and even a line of travel gear. Twenty years later, Slade suffers writer's block as he continues struggling to write the follow-up. He is disheartened by those who say he's become a brand—that he needn't bother writing ever again. Finally, Slade goes on a drug trip to Ecuador with an ex-girlfriend in search of a psychedelic muse à la William Burroughs. Slade finds a drug that provides almost prophetic insight—at the price of his being blinded. But periodic blindness seems a small price to pay in his arrogant pursuit of a novel of interior travel and sexual confession. What's more, his blindness puts him back in the literary limelight, where he even occasionally rubs elbows with President Clinton. Theroux (The Stranger at the Palazzo d'Oro ) writes with assurance here as he captures his narcissistic protagonist's heedless spiral into addiction and delusions of grandeur. Slade's descent serves as a guided tour of the heaven and hell that accompany writers who achieve fame and try to reclaim it. Recommended for public libraries. [See Prepub Alert, LJ 2/15/05.]—MishaStone, Seattle P.L. --MishaStone (Reviewed April 1, 2005) (Library Journal, vol 130, issue 6, p83)
What do You think about Blinding Light (2006)?
Theroux's 26 books should eliminate him as the basis for Blinding Light's blocked protagonist Slade Steadman, yet critics still compare the protagonist and his creator. Theroux and Steadman do share an eye for withering details, an intellectual interest in the nature of sexuality, fame, and the act of creation, and perhaps a taste for self-absorbed prose. Reviewers describe the novel as a Faustian fable and an exploration of the limits of sensuality. Yet the San Francisco Chronicle sees "no overriding moral lesson" at all. Whether 400-plus pages is too many for a modern novel, the book feels too big given its spindly plot. Many critics also quail at the book's explicit sexuality, which verges on the pornographic. It's a jungle of a book, one that tests patience as it enlightens, without a miracle drug in sight.This is an excerpt from a review published in Bookmarks magazine.
—Bookmarks Magazine
I could say that I am a Paul Theroux fan. He is one of the best contemporary novelists I know. However, this book taught me how boring sex can be in a novel, completing missing the magic that may (or may not) occur; is that the point he is trying to make about sexual bondage pleasure? Whatever point he is making about sex, I can only read so many descriptions of genital caresses before I lose interest. Why? Because descriptions of genitalia caresses are necessarily limited, however skillful. (Is that the point?) Anyway, I felt free to skip portions of this book and did not actually lose interest and wanted to know, to the bitter end, Slade's story: a fall from smug arrogance into real feeling (so, he is redeemed). That, to me, was the novel.
—Kallie
On December 1st I started reading Blinding Light, fascinated by the possibilities for a story about an author dealing with writer’s block and the remnants of 60’s consciousness issues. Ten days later, on a Saturday, I wrote that I had read much of the day’s Boston Globe, and a few more pages of Blinding Light. Three days after that, “I was thinking this morning of posting on GoodReads that I have read over 100 pages of Blinding Light, admire the author’s style and craft with words, yet feel very little motivation to keep reading.” It took nearly another month, and several renewals, to make it to page 137 and return it to the Library, having never found that motivation to finish it. This might be a more helpful “review” if I could tell you exactly what was the problem, but I can’t put my finger on it. I guess I just didn’t want to spend any more time with his cast of characters.
—Harry Roger Williams III
