Smith, with her predecessors, could help do for blacks what Saul Bellow, fifty years ago, did for Jews; that is, make them normal subjects for the novel, no longer people who have a sign over their heads saying “Jew” or “Black” but regular people, with the same privilege of texture—of self-contradiction and error, and thus of tragic force—as white people.
The New Yorker review of Zadie Smith's
new book. I admired
White Teeth enough to teach it to my Contemporary Fiction
class later this semester, but like seemingly everybody else I was disappointed by
The Autograph Man. It sounds like this one is worth picking up.
# posted by
Gerry Canavan @ 9:42 PM
|