Against a backing track of music, dance, and the ethics of celebrity philanthropy, Swing Time examines the subtle distinctions of race and class in Britain (or perhaps north-west London) across the last three decades within an engaging tale of ambition and failure. Peppered with the author’s characteristic wit, it’s an engrossing read although, in the current climate, I would have welcomed something slightly more challenging. Nevertheless, thanks to Hamish Hamilton for my advance proof copy.
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I started this blog in 2013 to share my reflections on reading, writing and psychology, along with my journey to become a published novelist. I soon graduated to about twenty book reviews a month and a weekly 99-word story. Ten years later, I've transferred my writing / publication updates to my new website but will continue here with occasional reviews and flash fiction pieces, and maybe the odd personal post.
In contrast to the three women who shape her through childhood to early middle age, the female narrator of Zadie Smith’s fifth novel is so insipid, she doesn’t even bother to tell us her name. Her mother, a beautiful Jamaican-born feminist, autodidact and activist who resembles Nefertiti, delegates parenting to her less ambitious husband while she plots her escape from the confines of gender, race and class. She barely tolerates our narrator’s intense friendship with Tracey, the only other brown-skinned girl at their North London dancing class. With her doting, but foul-mouthed white English mother and absent African Caribbean father (whom the little girl claims is on tour with Michael Jackson, when he’s actually in prison), Tracey’s allotment of advantage and disadvantage mirrors hers. Their relationship pirouettes around a shared passion and a suppressed mutual envy: while Tracey has the skill and talent to make it to the stage, the narrator’s relative stability with a loving father provide some compensation for her flat feet. The girls drift apart in late adolescence. After a media studies degree at a third-rate university, the narrator falls into a job as personal assistant to mega popstar Aimee, a character with echoes of Madonna, whose career seems to soar as Tracey’s stagnates. In time, with neither music nor motherhood proving sufficient to contain her energy, ambition and ego, Aimee decides to build a school for girls in a deprived West African village whose men are deserting the "back way" or renouncing music and dance for a religious life. While the narrator is sceptical of her employer’s assumption that her wealth and creativity can fix world poverty, she comes to cherish her periodic visits to their adopted community. But, when things turn sour, which of these four women will emerge with their well-being and reputation intact?
Against a backing track of music, dance, and the ethics of celebrity philanthropy, Swing Time examines the subtle distinctions of race and class in Britain (or perhaps north-west London) across the last three decades within an engaging tale of ambition and failure. Peppered with the author’s characteristic wit, it’s an engrossing read although, in the current climate, I would have welcomed something slightly more challenging. Nevertheless, thanks to Hamish Hamilton for my advance proof copy. Thanks for reading. I'd love to know what you think. If you've enjoyed this post, you might like to sign up via the sidebar for regular email updates and/or my quarterly Newsletter.
6 Comments
Annecdotist
18/11/2016 12:26:01 pm
Hard to tell, Sarah, maybe a bit of both. I actually found it an engaging and entertaining read but, as a white person who’s grown up in a racist culture, I felt there ought to have been part that made me feel uncomfortable. I’m not sure if that’s a fair criticism or not!
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17/11/2016 08:05:52 am
On paper (pun intended), Zadie Smith always seems like the sort of writer I'd like. But somehow her stories always end up being less than the sum of their parts. I watched NW on television last Monday and found it frustratingly incomplete. Do you think there's something a little cold at the heart of her writing?
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Annecdotist
18/11/2016 12:30:35 pm
It’s an interesting question about the coldness which I’ve wondered about this last couple of days since reading your comment. Not sure I’d describe it in that way but I certainly agree that there’s perhaps more breadth than depth in her writing. She certainly brings a lot of depth to the way she talks about fiction (just from what I’ve heard on the radio), so I’m not sure. Too much success too young – or perhaps that’s just envy?
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17/11/2016 09:41:14 pm
shame you rate it low(ish) because I've enjoyed the two Zadie Smith's I've read (though like Derbhile i didn't tale to the NW on TV at all). So maybe i'll skip this one.
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Annecdotist
18/11/2016 12:32:05 pm
I didn’t not like it, Geoff, and it has touches of humour you might enjoy. It’s possible that I’m extra critical in my review because she comes with such a glowing pedigree. What are you reading at the moment?
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entertaining fiction about identity, mental health and social justice
Annecdotal is where real life brushes up against the fictional.
Annecdotist is the blogging persona of Anne Goodwin:
reader, writer, slug-slayer, tramper of moors, recovering psychologist, struggling soprano, author of three fiction books. LATEST POSTS HERE
I don't post to a schedule, but average around ten reviews a month (see here for an alphabetical list), some linked to a weekly flash fiction, plus posts on my WIPs and published books. Your comments are welcome any time any where. Get new posts direct to your inbox ...
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