Zadie Smith hasn’t had a new novel since 2005, so I was anxious to read this book. I read On Beauty for a Contemporary British Fiction course I took at university, and read White Teeth just a few months ago. I really like her writing style. Similar to Salman Rushdie, who I just read, she teeters on the edge of stream-of-consciousness, without making that annoying jump. She is playful and engaging, sometimes traditional and sometimes challenging. I always enjoy the process of reading her books.
I have to say, unfortunately, that I was very disappointed with this one. Maybe my expectations were too high. After all, I like her writing so I expected to enjoy the writing. I did enjoy the writing, the word choice, the playfulness, the scavenger hunt of dropped clues that gave hints of context, setting, and time. Her endings were never great, but I still enjoyed her other books. Plus, as with White Teeth, this novel is set in Northwest London (hence the title), which is where Smith grew up. It is also where I lived while I was in London. This shouldn’t particularly matter, but I must admit I get a kick out of reading about characters wandering down Finchley Road or through Hampstead Heath, because I can picture it precisely in my mind. I lived off of Finchley Road. That area of London, as Smith herself points out, isn’t mentioned much in the history of English literature. I’m paraphrasing horribly, but she says something like ‘Occasionally, Dickens would wander into that area, and (as I recently discovered) Wilkie Collins’ The Woman in White meandered past the Heath. It’s different from reading about Regent’s Park or Oxford Street. It’s not as common and for whatever ridiculous reason, it’s special to me.
So maybe my expectations were just too high.
But the plot! Her previous books were both well plotted, though the endings were iffy to me. She doesn’t like to put too neat a bow on her works at the end, because life isn’t like that. I can respect that. But the other two novels followed the basic tenets of novel-writing. This one, not so much.
Most obviously in the form of structure. There are four parts to this book. The first is about Leah, a young woman living in a council-provided (i.e. government assistance) flat with her husband. She is depressed and lonely and being pressured to have a baby she doesn’t want. She has a dog, Olive. Spoiler***The dog dies. Do not read this part while on a train. Part 2 revolves around Felix, a man trying to get and stay clean and improve his life. He has no interaction with Leah or any of the characters previously mentioned. Part 3 is about Natalie/Keisha, Leah’s oldest friend. This part is the longest, and it covers a period from the girls’ early childhood through present day. Natalie/Keisha grows up, becomes a lawyer, gets married, has kids. She seems to have it together from the outside, but up close she is a total mess. Part 4 weaves the other parts together, sort of. It’s not wrapped up much at all, and I was left with a lot of questions. Smith doesn’t lay everything out for you, and that’s fine. But by the end, I was wondering why we were given this glance into Felix’s life, especially considering what happened to him later. And why did that happen to him? Since I’m given an intimate look at his life, I feel I should be able to answer it. But I can’t.
There’s also the actual structure, as in the paragraphs and chapters themselves. Part 1 is Leah’s world, and the narration of her thoughts is told in traditional paragraphs. Dialogue, on the other hand is inset and bolded, single spaced. Maybe this signifies the fact that her obvious depression means she is swallowed up by her internal thoughts and conversations with others take up less of her mental space. Interesting idea, but hard to read, to be honest. Parts 2 and 4 are the most traditional and easiest to read for that fact. Part 3, Natalie/Keisha’s story is the strangest. Each little segment of her story (usually 1-3 paragraphs) is told in a numbered sub-chapter, and there are over 180 of them. In them are sometimes little clues to tell you how old Natalie is, and what year it is. It might say ‘this is the year everyone started saying …’ and you remember (if you’re old enough) that it was the mid-nineties. Often the title of the sub-chapter is the key to its meaning and place in time. I have a hard time reading titles–they tend to just not register with my brain. So I would read the paragraph, and then if it didn’t make sense, go back and reread the chapter. One chapter was about a musician dying and teenagers being devastated. I looked up at the title to see it was called Nirvana. Ah, Kurt Cobain then. early ’90s. Another sub-chapter was about an incredibly gifted British singer, a woman with remarkable talent. Title was ‘Beehive’. This took me a minute, but of course, Amy Winehouse. It’s almost like a game, a scavenger hunt. If you were alive, you can piece together the slang or the events that are dropped surreptitiously into the mix and figure out where the story is in chronology. I enjoyed this part, like a puzzle. But I found that I was enjoying the game more than the story.
Smith hasn’t lost her ability to write, in any way shape or form. There’s beauty in all her writing, and there’s a fun in it that you won’t find in most writers of ‘literary fiction’. What I will say is that she’s taken another step toward being too-experimental to be comprehensible (to my limited abilities, anyway). She’s venturing out of the Beatles and into the Plastic Ono Band, and if she continues, I’m not sure I can follow her.