Skip to main content

For ridding oneself of faith is like boiling seawater to retrieve the salt--something is gained but something is lost.

 


Life goes by, Brick Lane, Tower Hamlets, London. April 2018.

White Teeth by Zadie Smith

White Teeth is one of those books I have meant to read for the past twenty years. Dickensian in scope, the mass of the novel seems like one very long series of digressions. Stories lead to sub-stories, which themselves sprout a seemingly infinite series of detours that – while consistent with the overarching theme of the perpetual motion of history and the lives lived within – occasional threatened to spin out of control.

Despite the sprawling narratives, Smith somehow manages to hold it all together. I feared that the entire project had run off the rails during the final chapters, as the lengthy and complicated inventory of colourful characters and plotlines seemed fit to burst. While I might quibble with a few dead ends for our cast (what becomes of the lesser Chalfens? Is that it for Hortense and Ryan?), she somehow manages to stick the landing with satisfaction.

This is a funny book with a good heart and admirable desire to probe the roots of the modern, multicultural condition. On balance I’d judge it a great success. Even at its silliest – those Chalfens really do read like The Modern Parents from the Viz comic – Smith’s optimism wins out over her ironic detachment.

In advance of penning my review, I cast my eye over the many thousands written since the novel was first published. It’s fair to say this is a book that has divided its readers. I can’t help but feel that part of this is due to the lavish praise initially heaped upon it (people prefer underdogs). For what it is worth, I liked it despite its flaws.

I’d be interested to hear where the author might take some of her characters (especially the KEVINs) post-9/11 and 7/7, and the further gentrification of London as Cool Britannia morphed into the global financial crisis, austerity Britain and the farce of Brexit. With layers upon layers upon layers, there is no shortage of material for ten more books!

 

★ ★ ★ ★


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Lost inside an adorable illusion and I cannot hide, I'm the one you're using, please don't push me aside, we could've made it cruising, yeah.

Yes it is Theme Thusday again, and today we are talking GLASS . I've three possible hooks to hang my [glass] hat on with this theme. First, the photo! Yes, it is the river again from an odd angle in an interesting light. You can just make out the bottom, which should tell you that I'm right on the shore. In some ways, the distortion of the stones below the surface reminds me of ye olde glass windows, what they call "cylinder blown sheet glass". You can still find some of this around Hobart these days. Thw second link comes from a trip I took to Venice a few years back. You're probably aware that Venice was (is?) a glass-making centre of excellence. If you have ever been there and taken the tour of the glass factories, you might be familiar with the sheer amount of coloured glass that sits at the bottom of the water there. These fragments of glass have been worn down and had their edges dulled by their time in the water, which makes them ample keepsakes for the ...

Hold me now, oh hold me now, until this hour has gone around. And I'm gone on the rising tide, to face Van Dieman's Land

Theme Thursday again, and this one is rather easy. I am Tasmanian, you see, and aside from being all around general geniuses - as I have amply described previously - we are also very familiar with the concept of WATER. Tasmania is the ONLY island state of an ISLAND continent. That means, we're surrounded by WATER. That should help explain why I take so many photographs of water . Tasmania was for a long time the place where the British (an island race terrified of water) sent their poor people most vile and horrid criminals. The sort of folk who would face the stark choice of a death sentence , or transportation to the other end of the world. Their catalogue of crimes is horrifying : stealing bread assault stealing gentlemen's handkerchiefs drunken assault being poor affray ladies being overly friendly with gentlemen for money hitting people having a drink and a laugh public drunkenness being Irish Fenian terrorist activities being Catholic religious subversion. ...

Happy anniversary baby, got you on my mind

No it is not a webcam, but this photograph was taken a mere forty-five ago on my way in to work. Here you can see a good old fashioned Hobart autumn morning, with the rain pelting down and me getting drenched. This one was taken on the corner of Macquarie and Elizabeth, while I was waiting for the lights to change. Come on Ampelmännchen ! Today is my wedding anniversary, an apparently I need to be showering Jen with leather -related goodies. Va-va-vaVOOM! To you Jennifer, here is a poem I wrote this very morning. Anniversary I love you i love you iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou I LOVE you I love YOU iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou I LOVE YOU iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou Happy anniversary