White Teeth [Paperback]

One of the book's main flaws is that in addition to these five major characters, there are the mothers of each, and a veritable wagonload of important supporting characters, including a third family that appears well into the book. There's a lot of coming and going and coming, and on and on as characters assume central importance for ten pages, only to disappear for two-hundred. Smith is trying to weave a very complicated web (many critics call this aspect of the book "Dickensian"), but in doing so, the transitions become awfully jarring, and very often, annoying. A second major issue is that the characters are all types of one sort or another. Smith sets them in motion in order to comment on her grab-bag of issues, but never quite gives them enough individuality or humanity. The good thing is that she does manage to create a unique voice for each . Like Martin Amis, she's has an excellent ear for the rhythms of conversation and the specific vernaculars of both time and group. Similarly, she likes to play with language in a way that is both refreshing and assured.

On the whole, I liked this book-albeit grudgingly. Smith has taken a kind of "throw everything except the kitchen sink at the wall and see what sticks" approach, leaving no major issue unturned in her attempt to leave her mark on the reader. This means that a lot of the threads never lead anywhere, and thus the overall effect is not as strong as she might have intended. A good editor might have been able to pare some elements back a bit, allowing others to blossom more. Similarly, an editor ought to have helped with some of the many inaccuracies that crop up (two random examples: some of the portrayal of the Jehovah's Witnesses is factually incorrect, as are some of the details of Ryan's scooter). Still, as a portrait of multicultural London over the years and how the concept of "being British" has evolved in that time, it works quite well. And its questions about identity and belonging are applicable to immigrants coming to any Western country. The book was made into a 4-hour BBC miniseries, which has still never been released on video in the US.

Actually, I didn't loathe the book; the book didn't manage to evoke an emotion of that strength. I found it all a bit insipid and dull, to be honest. Some people have complained about the rambling length but I think a vast length was fitting for a novel of this ambition and considering her vast cast of characters. Characters were the problem. I didn't particularly like or care about any of them. They were merely representations from different races, without flesh and blood and life. It was easy to observe them but hard to really become involved with them. And, though I'm white, I've grown up in a multi-cultural family, & I found some of the Asians very stereotyped: the Bangledeshi women reminded me of characters off Eastenders. I also found the author's cynicism about religion rather narrow, perhaps one of the greatest weaknesses of the book considering her themes. She found it impossible to present any religion without portraying it as an emotional crutch. I would like more detachment from the author here. I am not a Bible-basher or even a believer, but having grown up with both CHristians and HIndus, I think it is possible to explore both the strengths and weaknesses of different faiths without reducing the narrative into a rather childish 'all god-types are nutters'which is what Zadie does, and dully.

The book's strength is the authorial confidence. People have noted the weak research, inaccuracies and historial loop holes (maybe they don't matter that much anyway) but I think the author is actually good at pretending to write as though she knows what she is talking about. She has courage and control; she has managed to write a book that somehow looks good, that reads as if it's a classic, that reads as if it's actually saying a lot, when it doesn't. It's partly due to the skill of her prose, partly because of the author's 'serious' young-Rushdie style image, though I actually think the book owes a greater debt to Amis than Rushdie.

On the other hand, books I prefered include 'CHocolat' by Joanne Harris, also nominated for last year's Whitbread, which works in reverse - a literary novel which appears light-hearted (particularly with the awful sugary film adaptation) but which actually explores some fascinating themes, such as motherhood, religion, repression - some themes which Zadie touched on but never manages to explore with any depth in the way Harris does.