Zadie Smith's latest collection of essays, 'Dead and Alive', offers a profound meditation on the anxieties of our times. These 16-year-old musings seem like yesterday's news, as if they've been buried in time, only to resurface now that we're older, wiser – or perhaps just more anxious.
In some notes on mediated time, Smith recounts how her childhood, marked by a dreamy, slow world, gave way to the anxiety-ridden present of social media. This generational shift has left many feeling like outsiders, and for those who've lived through it, the age-old anxieties of aging have been superimposed upon these feelings.
The stakes are high in Smith's essays, as she tackles topics such as language, representation, cultural commentary, and politics. Her criticism of the reductive pieties that grease the wheels of cultural commentary rings true, but there are moments where her own words feel like a plea for understanding – an awkward "as the youngs say" here, a misplaced slang phrase there.
However, it's when Smith opens up on the complexities of human relationships and the politics of creativity that she shines. Her observations on Kara Walker's work, James Baldwin's craft, and the ethics of cultural appropriation are nuanced, thought-provoking, and essential reading for anyone interested in these topics.
But not everything is clear-cut. When it comes to actual politics, Smith seems uncertain, wavering between pragmatism and idealism. Her op-ed on the war in Gaza, originally published in May 2024, was widely seen as equivocal, conflating anti-war protesters with antisemites – a misstep that has since been acknowledged.
It's against this backdrop of catastrophic stagnation in centre-left politics and the crisis in media that Smith's 'Dead and Alive' takes on a new significance. Her nostalgic evocations of analogue-era television are poignant reminders of what we've lost, but they also feel like an article of faith – the genie is out of the bottle.
Ultimately, this collection is less a call to action than a lament for what's been lost. As Smith writes, "I would rather the kids knew stories than soundbites." But in today's world, it's not just about what we want our children to know; it's also about what they'll be forced to learn from us – and whether those lessons will be enough to save them from themselves.
In some notes on mediated time, Smith recounts how her childhood, marked by a dreamy, slow world, gave way to the anxiety-ridden present of social media. This generational shift has left many feeling like outsiders, and for those who've lived through it, the age-old anxieties of aging have been superimposed upon these feelings.
The stakes are high in Smith's essays, as she tackles topics such as language, representation, cultural commentary, and politics. Her criticism of the reductive pieties that grease the wheels of cultural commentary rings true, but there are moments where her own words feel like a plea for understanding – an awkward "as the youngs say" here, a misplaced slang phrase there.
However, it's when Smith opens up on the complexities of human relationships and the politics of creativity that she shines. Her observations on Kara Walker's work, James Baldwin's craft, and the ethics of cultural appropriation are nuanced, thought-provoking, and essential reading for anyone interested in these topics.
But not everything is clear-cut. When it comes to actual politics, Smith seems uncertain, wavering between pragmatism and idealism. Her op-ed on the war in Gaza, originally published in May 2024, was widely seen as equivocal, conflating anti-war protesters with antisemites – a misstep that has since been acknowledged.
It's against this backdrop of catastrophic stagnation in centre-left politics and the crisis in media that Smith's 'Dead and Alive' takes on a new significance. Her nostalgic evocations of analogue-era television are poignant reminders of what we've lost, but they also feel like an article of faith – the genie is out of the bottle.
Ultimately, this collection is less a call to action than a lament for what's been lost. As Smith writes, "I would rather the kids knew stories than soundbites." But in today's world, it's not just about what we want our children to know; it's also about what they'll be forced to learn from us – and whether those lessons will be enough to save them from themselves.