Zadie Smith is one of my biggest inspirations as I lean towards writing. There are plenty of days when I wake up and think how nice it would be, to be her. (She might beg to differ, but she writes beautiful novels, has a handsome husband and lives in Italy. I think I have enough to stand on for a decent argument). When I lived in North West London for a heartbeat, I had heard that Smith lived in a nearby neighborhood of mine. I had hoped for a chance encounter at our neighborhood Sainsbury. Never happened. Maybe she's more of a Tescos girl.
Magic Molly recently started the discussion among a few of us about the age old pretty vs. charming/funny/interesting argument. I find this to be intriguing as I felt my beauty and charm came at a much later date in life than I would have preferred. I don't consider myself the most prime example of this phenomenon but lemme tell you. . . that which I have, I have worked very hard at, humour and grace. I rarely tell people this but one of the reasons I started dancing ballet is because I am recklessly clumsy. The conclusion among the comments which was nearly reached was that, in order to be both, in most cases you've experienced some amount of indifference or adversity in your life. A crappy upbringing. A natural wallflower. An awkward phase even.

Zadie Smith writes about a lot of what she knows best, growing up as a multiracial English citizen and that formula works very well. I can't help but to think she definitely felt displaced and experienced her own awkward phase to which her shyness is a direct result. Never-the-less, the verdict is clear Smith is beautiful, Smith is smart. The age old story of the Ugly Duckling (or rather the isolated duckling. . . something tells me "awkward" has never been used to describe Smith). But in this case, the swan has the quickest wit of anyone in the pack. She's also a bit of a
spitfire , which I find hilarious. (Though I know, had I entered that literary contest, I might be whistling another tune).
Peas and I started reading
White Teeth at the same time. But Peas thought it dragged on a bit. Some chapters are a little slow. . . but it all comes together in the latter half of the book.
On Beauty however. . . made me feel Smith had properly earned her place in the world of great writers. Smith's strength lies in the fact that she creates characters, we all know. At one point, she describes a disappointing orgasm in words which are unpretentious and so spot on. I actually snickered aloud. I breezed through the book with ease and immediately passed it to my sister, Cornpuddin' who I knew would devour it. And she did.

So Zadie Smith, you may be sour faced and find it hard to get excited for the masses you must speak in front of. . . but regardless, I find you utterly intoxicating and think it would be nice, to be you. Love that yellow dress.