'Early in the morning, late in the century, Cricklewood Broadway. At 0627 hours on January 1, 1975, Alfred Archibald Jones was dressed in corduroy and sat in a fume-filled Cavalier Musketeer Estate facedown on the steering wheel, hoping the judgment would not be too heavy upon him.'
- White Teeth
Zadie Smith is one of my favourite authors, her first novel White Teeth leaving me with a distinct feeling of underachievement as she wrote that impressive, wise, different and award-winning masterpiece when she was barely the age I am now.
One of the things I admire her for is that she is able to write with a humour that makes me laugh out loud - without ever succumbing to banality and with a, throughout the pages of her books, brutally honest, almost crass yet still warm and loving way of portraying her characters, whatever their (most human and relatable) flaws. Like taking the piss out of someone dear that you've always known. And funnily.
- apart from that, she is stunningly beautiful, sweet, unpretentiously clever and seems to appear in every other 'Miss V'-feature in UK Vogue with her secretive smile.
I felt like blogging about her, since at the moment I appear to be having a Zadie Smith-theme week - she pops up everywhere.
Yesterday I read a feature in Information about a lecture she gave on the election of Barack Obama and this morning I heard a slightly random and rather endearing audio interview from The New Yorker where she talks about her and her family's relationship to (British) comedy. Funny, I didn't imagine her voice that husky.
If you have time, give it a whirl.
She also has a new book out which holds two short stories and is called 'Martha and Hanwell' - must get my hands on that.