Zadie Smith, The Fraud

Zadie Smith, The Fraud

Zadie Smith is fed up. Her most recent novel, The Fraud, is about a famous criminal trial of a potential grand fraud and his obsessed followers, about the bombastic pettiness of the literary world (in 19th century London, but…), and also about the historical crimes and disasters that take place while we’re looking elsewhere, or that we’re seeing through our own layers of misinformation. In particular, she’d like us to actually face up to our tendency to place ourselves and our preferred stories about the world at the center of everything. She is, however, fed up in a particularly Zadie Smith way: insightful, nuanced, hilarious. She’s not just judging bad behavior, she’s curious about confusion and self-delusion. She wants to know everyone’s stories, and though she definitely has opinions, she understands how and why we get it so wrong. Which doesn’t stop her from being wicked funny about pretension, self-inflation, and the excuses we make for ourselves.

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Zadie Smith, On Beauty, and Jeanette Winterson, The Passion: Domesticity and Wildness

Zadie Smith, On Beauty, and Jeanette Winterson, The Passion: Domesticity and Wildness

Right now I’m teaching On Beauty and The Passion to an advanced novel-writing class and so have been rereading both novels. Maybe one of the reasons I love them so much is that they are about errant or unexpected love and that they each, in their own way, subvert domesticity. They remind me of my childhood family parties. Back when my parents were alive, we used to celebrate all the extended family birthdays, and every other occasion, with as many family members as we could gather, friends, and people invited on the spur of the moment. Not many of my father’s university colleagues were invited, even before the divorce, since according to my mother the mess of our family and chaos of the house embarrassed him. All the strange art covering the walls, the hoarded and treasured supplies, and then, at parties, fiery words and messy apologies, someone crying in a bathroom or hallway, people embracing afterward and assuring everyone of their love. Immersive family theater.

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Zadie Smith, Grand Union, and E.M. Forster, Howard's End: People Watching

Zadie Smith, Grand Union, and E.M. Forster, Howard's End: People Watching

At this moment in history, many writers/readers, even the deep introverts among us, find ourselves wistful for people we know and don’t know, for crowds, festivals, the family on the next picnic blanket at the beach, literary festivals thick with subtext, game nights, dating, and family dinners, no matter how fraught. In this post, I thought I’d share a pair of people-watching paragraphs from a couple of beloved writers, Zadie Smith and E.M. Forster, both wonderful in their language and especially sharp and meticulous in their character portraits.

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