Acton reviewed Swing Time by Zadie Smith
Review of 'Swing Time' on 'Goodreads'
4 stars
After reading this, I feel compelled to watch the namesake movie Swing Time, the 1936 Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers movie. And I enjoyed the references to art and dance in this novel very much.
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It seems appropriate that Swing Time's narrator is nameless, since she seems to live almost entirely through other people. Narrator's job is mostly to react. I did find this story compelling, even though sometimes, I didn't find Narrator very likeable.
The story of Narrator's childhood (in North London) is expressed mostly by way of vignettes involving her best friend, Tracy. They notice each other as little girls, on their first day of school, because they are the same shade of brown, both biracial. The two of them become obsessed with dancing, watching old Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers movies, along with many other musicals. Tracy is the one with the talent and charisma to …
After reading this, I feel compelled to watch the namesake movie Swing Time, the 1936 Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers movie. And I enjoyed the references to art and dance in this novel very much.
~~~
It seems appropriate that Swing Time's narrator is nameless, since she seems to live almost entirely through other people. Narrator's job is mostly to react. I did find this story compelling, even though sometimes, I didn't find Narrator very likeable.
The story of Narrator's childhood (in North London) is expressed mostly by way of vignettes involving her best friend, Tracy. They notice each other as little girls, on their first day of school, because they are the same shade of brown, both biracial. The two of them become obsessed with dancing, watching old Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers movies, along with many other musicals. Tracy is the one with the talent and charisma to actually attempt to live the dream, Narrator is her fan. However, things are not all sparkly for Tracy: her father is in and out of jail, her mother a bit unstable, and they are predictably poor. Tracy's behavior and language has a disturbing edge...one thing that kept me turning these pages was wanting to know what becomes of her. She's a bright character, but she's working without a safety net.
Not talented enough to continue her education along the same lines as Tracy, Narrator goes to a conventional high school, then university. However, she does not discover her direction. She does eventually luck into a great job, though, working for what was essentially British MTV, and that puts her in the way of a mega pop star, someone she and Tracy idolized as kids. Now, Narrator gets to be a paid fan, working insane hours for pop star Aimee for almost a decade, during which she does not have a life of her own.
When Aimee decides to build a school for girls in Africa, Narrator becomes very involved, as her ambassador to this village, where she does get to know some of the locals well, and she also observes how hard some good people (especially Fernando) are working to make a go of this school. Here, the plot shifts away from Narrator's previous life. She falls out of touch with Tracy and her own mother. She is more emotionally involved with a couple people in the village.
Without revealing too much of the plot, it's obvious that Narrator's time with Aimee is limited. When it comes to an end (a spectacular one), Narrator is forced to realize how badly she's neglected her life and relationships. It's complicated, and I'll leave it there....
One topic that is ripe for discussion is the ambivalent relationship Narrator has with both Tracy and her mother. And then, there's the relationship between Tracy and Narrator's mother, as well.
Zadie Smith has a style that I find very appealing. Narrator's cultural, racial, and social identities are multifaceted, and she struggles to find her own voice and define her own life. Narrator's conversations with Fernando are sometimes profound, and question Narrator's definition of freedom. I found much to ponder while reading Smith's latest novel, and would recommend it to anyone.
