Final Passage1 (winner of Malcolm X Prize) is story of Leila, who comes to England, bringing her husband Michael (more burden than baggage) and infant son Calvin. Left alone by her unfaithful husband, living without hope or happiness in slum conditions, she decides to return to her little Caribbean island. However, by this time Leila has suffered a breakdown, is unemployed, and one wonders if she will be able to give decision practical, financial expression. It is not Britain has opened her eyes to previously overlooked positive aspects of her island home; return is merely lesser of two unattractive alternatives. author, who himself was taken to England as a baby and who as adult has made journey back, writes about the Indian wave of immigration into Britain, so-called mother country, in 1960s. Through Leila we gain inkling of understanding as to why people left Caribbean and what life was like for those immigrants in Britain, where at time it was legal and normal to display signs read, coloureds [or 'blacks']. No dogs. (Wole Soyinka records his experiences in satiric poem Telephone Conversation.) novel thus has wider dimensions of a historical, economic, and cultural nature. In 1962 V. S. Naipaul published a collection of essays titled Middle Passage.2 phrase the comes down from days of slavery. was when a ship left England for Africa, carrying baubles, cheap industrial products were bartered for slaves. Then began dreadful middle passage, to American and Caribbean plantations, during which voyage many died and were thrown overboard. (It is estimated as many as twenty million Africans were abducted from continent.) survivors were sold at auction; with money realized, raw materials were purchased to feed voracious industrial machines back home, and ship began the final passage, so much richer for enterprise. Leila wishes to make her final passage back to Caribbean, although, as already indicated, she may end up marooned and captive for rest of her life: a different form of life imprisonment from experienced by Rudy in Higher Ground (more on this later). On other hand, first section of novel bears subtitle The End, describing Leilas departure from Caribbean: end may also be beginning of a return after all. Her mother, dying in a hospital, says, London is not my home. . . . And I don't want you to forget either (124). Naipaul, in Middle Passage, observes with detachment subdued, bewildered immigrants herding onto ship for England. Phillips presents us with case of one out of those anonymous thousands, one from historical statistics. In same collection of essays Naipaul describes St. Kitts as an overpopulated island of sixty-eight square miles, producing a little sea-island cotton, having trouble to sell its sugar, and no longer growing tobacco, first crop of settlers. . . . We were . . . watching lights of toy capital where people took themselves seriously enough to drive cars from one point to another (24). He records his nightmare, that I was back in tropical Trinidad (43), a land indifferent to virtue as well as to vice (58). History, he argues (29), is built around achievement and creation, and nothing was created in Indies. (The epigraph of Final Passage is from Eliot: A people without history / Is not redeemed from time.) Slavery has bred self-contempt (71), and West Indian, more than most, needs writers to tell him who he is and where he stands (73). Phillips undertakes a telling, and absence becomes essence of novel: absence of history and achievement, of scope in present and hope for future. second and longer section of work is Home. Michael's grandfather uses a metaphor to convey island's cultural hybrid: yams from Africa, mangoes from India, and coconuts from Pacific. men almost miraculously find money to go drinking day and night, but it is not a glorious riot, a Bacchanalian celebration of life, but rather a drinking through boredom and hopelessness to a state of stupor. island is a place where sound of a motorcycle starting up is a sufficient event to attract adult spectators: There's nothing here for me to do, nothing! . . . Nothing, man! (53). Michael falls back on physical vanity: great care is taken over length of his shirt sleeves and trousers; motorcycle gives him illusion of power, and he possesses freedom is a total denial of responsibility. In sleep, with pose and posturing set aside, his tired face crumbles like a bridge collapsing into rubble (62). He gets drunk on his wedding day and spends night with Beverley, by whom he already has a son. As Leila's pregnancy advances, he moves into