Exit
ADIE SMITH HAS
always been a gifted
impressionist, sometimes to her detriment.
In her debut novel White Teeth, the
breadth of accents and dialects she
conjured figured heavily in reviews
crowning her the next big literary
star. A random stab at a page produces an education in words and
phrases not found in a dictionary.
From page 155 of the Vintage International edition: “’sbit,” “fuckwit,” “’sall,” “Mangy Pandy.” From
there, she’s gone on to write from
the point of view of a half-Chinese,
British-born, 27-year-old in The
Autograph Man, as well as all
highly individuated members of an
American-English-Jamaican family, in her followup campus novel
On Beauty. As impressive as this
skill for pure transmission from
ear to pen is, the result can be cacophonous on the page. It can also
distract awestruck critics from
giving Smith reason to nurture her
considerable other gifts.
So Smith’s latest, fourth addition, NW — published this month,
marking an end to her 7-yearhiatus from fiction and her entry into motherhood — is a welcome, evolved return. The shifting
portrait of former residents of
BOOKS
HUFFINGTON
09.09.12
WENDY GEORGE
Z
a housing project in London’s
Northwest district shows Smith
to be as enthralled by human biodiversity as ever, but cannier at
using her insight sparingly, and to
greater effect.
The novel’s three main protagonists, all in their mid-thirties,
belong to the same generation as
Smith herself. The band names,
television shows and fashion statements of the time are all namechecked in characteristic Smith
fashion. Here lies Friends; there
vintage Kinks. Stylistically though,
Smith’s
fourth novel
NW.