Zadie Smith

I just finished Zadie Smith's Swing Time, the first book of hers I've read. I don't know whether I was resisting it or what, maybe it's just because I was reading it almost only before going to bed, but for much of it I had a hard time fully catching the groove. Maybe it was because the protagonist was herself floundering, looking for direction. Maybe it was because the regular alternation of past and present felt a little stilted at times. In any case, there were definitely times I felt like it could have been shortened 100-150 pages.

But now that it's over, I'm a little sad. I suppose it's because our heroine was just beginning to see some openings, to find some direction, to emerge from the shadows of others, in her own way of speaking. But then she was gone, like Keyser Soze.

I will read more.