White Teeth

More time to read and less access to library resources mean I keep going back to my shelves, revisiting the greatest hits. And this time it’s a joy. I always knew Zadie Smith was a marvel, but it’s astonishing to rediscover how ambitious she was, right from the start. White Teeth is enjoyable, witty, fast-moving. It’s also long, very clever and skilful, and exhibits so many different ways of being a good writer. Simple routine description: “the bus did one of those arching corners where it feels the merest breath will topple it over.” Witty dialogue - “the whole plan’s so high on the cheese factor it’s practically Stilton.” But beyond that there’s a range of sympathy, an ability to get inside the skins and head of a huge cast of characters, whatever their age, background and racial origin. History is important, but so are ideas, and so is her huge affection for the Willesden area where she grew up. she has a long, sustained riff about the local comp attended by one of her characters, but within these two pages of lively evocation there’s a sly little dig - “Better to have an utterly forgettable face, better to be able to cadge a fag and come back five minutes after for another without being remembered. Better to cultivate a cipher-like persona, be a featureless little squib called Mart, Jules, Ian.” That couldn’t - could it? - be a cheeky little reference to Martin Amis, Julian Barnes, Ian McEwan?