Sunday, 8 September 2013

'I ain't free. Ain't never been free': Zadie Smith's NW

Being a Literature student, the summer break means one thing: putting Chaucer on hold for a few months and finally tucking into those books you've been eyeing up all year. Okay, so it’s not just books we look forward to, home-cooked food and double beds are definite game changers, but hey, I was desperate to recover from my roast dinner induced food coma sprawled across my double bed with Zadie Smith’s NW in hand. Sounds perfect, right?!
I was given NW as a Christmas gift and it took extreme amounts of willpower to resist the temptation of throwing all my course books aside and diving straight in. However, in fear of failing my January exams I forced myself to forget about Smith’s previous masterpieces and concentrate on analysing domination in fictional gay sex positions. (I kid you not, oh English Literature, you strange, strange degree). Having fallen in love with Smith’s writing during A-levels when I first picked up On Beauty, and consequently devouring White Teeth and The Autograph Man with the speed of a famished student opening a Domino’s pizza box, I had sky-high expectations for NW.  


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