A third book of essays from the literary powerhouse is patchy and strangely bloodless
In her latest collection, Dead and Alive, Zadie Smith explores various themes familiar to her readership, yet the essays often lack the vitality seen in her earlier works, reports BritPanorama.
Smith discusses the impact of smartphones on daily life, sharing her perspective on the importance of patience in creative processes. “Try waiting an hour after waking, maybe two… You have a right to take a moment,” she advises. This encapsulates her ongoing interest in balance, care, and integrity within writing—a sentiment she first articulated in her debut novel, White Teeth (2000).
While she remains passionate about literary fiction, some readers may find that her latest essays echo themes from her previous collections, Changing My Mind (2009) and Feel Free (2018). Smith’s most recent novel, The Fraud (2023), has garnered mixed reviews, drawing comparisons to her earlier works and suggesting that her literary voice might be becoming predictable.
Smith’s literary trajectory began at the age of 24 with the success of White Teeth, making her a prominent figure in multicultural literature. Her influence on new generations of writers is palpable, particularly in her reflections on the legacy of Toni Morrison, identifying current voices that resonate with Morrison’s themes.
Despite her prolific output in recent years, which includes co-authoring children’s books and her debut play, some essays in Dead and Alive feel underwhelming. For instance, Smith’s examination of Stormzy’s 2019 Glastonbury performance is presented in an unusual mock-Shakespearean style, which some readers might find disjointed and less relevant over time.
In a moving tribute to the late Hilary Mantel, Smith reflects candidly on her hesitations about engaging with Mantel’s work, revealing a relatable vulnerability. “I had the strong pre-monition that if I read Hilary’s, and it was as good as everybody was saying, I would never write my own,” she admits.
Smith’s essays convey emotional resonance, especially her critique of the past 14 years of Tory governance in Britain. Yet, some of her essays, particularly those addressing contentious topics, have drawn criticism for being overly convoluted or insufficiently assertive.
Her thoughts on the campus protests against the war on Gaza highlight the tensions within her advocacy, leading some readers to conclude that she inadvertently supports narratives that can stifle dissent. Smith herself expressed fatigue with her public persona, stating, “I’m so sick of the sound of my own voice,” suggesting a desire for a respite from the constant scrutiny and expectations tied to her literary status.
Nevertheless, Dead and Alive showcases glimpses of Smith’s insightful analysis and depth, particularly in her reflections on her upbringing. Her arguments for the continued relevance of reading fiction in an increasingly digitized society remain pertinent. However, the collection lacks the surprise and intensity of her earlier work, leaving the impression that a period of introspection might benefit her upcoming projects.
‘Dead and Alive’ by Zadie Smith is published by Hamish Hamilton, £22
