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by Zadie Smith
In a word (or two or three): sounds like Rushdie without the
macho swagger
From
Mr. Hipster:
For
some reason I was under the impression Zadie Smith was of Indian
descent. I'm not sure what possessed me to think that, but I was
apparently way off (she's Jamaican and British.) In any case, Smith
does a masterful job of interweaving the stories of these characters,
all from different cultures, into a pastiche of middle-class English
society. Rather than dividing the characters along religious, political
and socio-economic lines, we see that everyone has their problems,
and everyone is dysfunctional in their own way. Smith makes you
feel for her characters. She makes you want to run screaming from
their lives, but at the same time embrace their lunacy. In any case,
I'll certainly be picking up her new book as soon as it--cheapass
that I am--comes out in paperback. For a first novel written by
a person three years my junior, I'm not sure whether I want to strangle
her or cry in awe.
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The
Autograph Man
On
Beauty |
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