A solid book, but not reaching the levels of other later work. In some aspects it has the feel of an early attempt at the concept of There but for the, which is overall much tighter and engrossing reading.

De ce temps-ci je lis juste des livres ratoureux, ç'a l'air. Ali Smith n'est pas intéressée par les histoires qui se racontent les yeux fermés; elle aime ce qui se perd, ce qui te rit dans face, ce qui laisse ses rognures d'ongles partout dans la salle de bain, ce qui éclabousse, ce qui plante ses dents dans l'ordinaire & en fait une purée éminemment étrange, familière, resplendissante, le rayon de soleil de fin d'après-midi qui fait danser la poussière. Sa langue joueuse & acidulée, son regard malcommode -- ça pique autant que ça charme.

2.5/5

This book's a bit of a mess, and I'm not talking about the experimentalism. Frankly, I could've used more of that, as it was far too easy to keep track of all the mundanities that were supposed to engage and/or provoke sympathy: the precocious teenager, the Rape Culture 101, the Rape Culture - Advanced Course, the (closeted queer) woman author. All white, all relatively middle class, all with vague aspirations of culture and creativity and analysis of the police state surrounding them, and thus all sounding like the tryhard liberals I've interacted with far too much during the past week. It's all very cute on paper, but try to interact with any of these types and they're likely to close in ranks, muster up a battery of ad hominem and sealioning, and feel very satisfied with themselves once you've left them to their enclaves of dehumanization. So a family's won over by a Rromani stereotype,

Spoiler

gets rightfully scammed,

and has enough of a safety bubble to supposedly hint at a happy ending, complete with lackluster commiseration with the poor, the non-white, the vulnerable, which requires nothing when the only risk is to have one's birthright mistaken by the status quo. Big whoop.

Pictures not being valued unless they point towards a crime: police state. The cover up of systematic gynephobic violence for the sake of commercial reputation unless taken in by court of law (aka, by the shelling out of a lot of money for legal purposes): police state. The normalization of white Christocentric terrorism by the terrorized: police state. The constant media focus on a past horror of a police state, or a foreign horror of a police state, or a thought to be ally but still strange and distant police state: police state. The power automatically vested in the landed over the unlanded: police state. And so on, and so on, and so on. It could've made for a great commentary if it had ever gotten its shit together and given up on the feel good quirkiness, the sacrifice a tiny bit to win the world that is the heritage of white people, the happy ending where little was learned and nothing has changed, but that of course never happened. I enjoyed some of all of that, to be sure, which is where the 2.5 stars comes from, but on the level of books for children, where there are no winks or side eyes or subtle promises to deliver more of a real world spectrum with all of its fuckery. If you hint that you're going big, go big. Else, get along home.

Let this be the last author whom I check out because a previously read work was a favorite, only to end up with next to nothing. I'd say that it's an insult to one's intelligence to pile drive on the narratological fireworks and leave the political awareness lacking, but many people beg to differ, so that's their lot. I still have [b:Artful|15811569|Artful|Ali Smith|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1350363516s/15811569.jpg|21415809] on hand, which is both not fiction and far more recent, but I really don't know anymore. I feel I should wait for the fallout of this Trump conspiring with Russia business before I try returning to anyone else.

Smith ha il dono di fotografare il presente mentre sta accadendo, non da un punto di vista storico, quindi, ma con tutti i dubbi e le perplessità di una storia ancora in corso.
Nel 2003, con una guerra sullo sfondo, la quiete familiare viene distrutta da Amber, una sorta di Eris che mette tutti in discussione: la figlia minore, Astrid, ossessionata con il riprendere tutto per avere prova che sia reale; Magnus, diciassettenne coinvolto in un episodio di bullismo che ha portato al suicidio della vittima; Michael, il compagno della madre, professore universitario che non si fa scrupoli a fare sesso con le sue studentesse; Eve, la madre, scrittrice di narrativa basata sulle vite che i morti della seconda guerra mondiale avrebbero potuto avere.

Ognuno di loro ha un capitolo dedicato con la sua prospettiva unica sugli stessi eventi. La scrittura di Smith non è ermetica, anzi, sembra aperta a qualsiasi input e non ostacola chi legge: è scorrevole, non è solo introspettiva e forse non esclude neanche interpretazioni di sorta.
Ma di cosa parla secondo me? Vuole stravolgere la famiglia tradizionale. Si parla di rappresentazione, di come ci si racconta, di quanto quello che diciamo di noi sia uno stereotipo imposto dall’alto. Parla della capacità di reinventarsi e di ricominciare da zero.
Amber e Eve si scontrano alla fine. Entrambe a modo loro raccontano storie di finzione. Niente è reale, tutto è reale, niente è casuale, tutto è casuale.

It was an okay read, but I was slightly disappointed because I had so much expectations for this book after reading her awesome short stories. I like how ali smith was able to use different writing styles to effectively portray the characters. The sonnets by michael was quite genius. The ending was really good, because it showed the extent of amber's influence and also allowed readers to speculate how amber changed as a person. But overall I felt that amber left the story too suddenly which left me quite unsatisfied.

Read for my Muggle Studies O.W.L 2019 - (read a contemporary novel). My first Smith and holy shit she can write. The perspectives of Astrid and Magnus were exceptionally spectacular. What knocked it down to a three star was the pov's of both Michael and Eve, I thought they were just mediocre. It is a novel of constants and variables. For fans of Virginia Woolf.