What shocked me about Zadie Smith’s latest novel was not the complex layers of characterization, the shocking range of voices, her ability to manipulate the same(ish) dialect into four heart-wrenching throats, to make it seem like these characters are that fucking real…. it is Zadie Smith’s ability to say ‘fuckit’ to traditional structure. Yes, you can play with voice, you can play with style, you can mess with timelines, but ALSO messing with structure seems so crazy risky. But she does it…
This mega-novel tracks four characters from a NW London council estate (read subsidized housing project) in their various trajectories up, out, and away from their childhoods. They vary in their financial success, their misery. Leah is white and lost. Natalie is a barrister of Caribbean parents, lost too, but rich. Felix is the cleaned-up kid of a Rasta. Nathan is an addict, homeless, and thoughtful and destined for destitution.
But that’s the thing– nothing is 'destined’ in this novel, nothing seems inevitable, and anything that would be considered “plot” is thwarted here. People don’t deserve what they get. Characters don’t always have very good excuses for their actions. Like real life, we are led through events that don’t always connect too-perfectly. What is perfectly wrought is her language, which leaves a taste that lingers long after the pages are done.