On Beauty

Fi-nally finished this sublime book. I think the most remarkable skill of Zadie's is her ability to see the elemental. At one point she writes about photographs, and how the Belseys have far too many they never look at, just as we all do. It's so terribly, blissfully honest. We don't look at them and yet we are inclined to keep them, as we feel we must, because they've been so elevated into our consciousness. Without photos, how will we remember? That sort of thing.
And poor Zora Belsey. She is treated sympathetically and derisively at the same time, which shocks me, as I simply assumed Zadie Smith has everything, looks, talent, and so on, and could not possibly write about black women who are insecure in their bodies, or about anyone who has difficulty in life being who they think they should be. Not so. Her empathy knows no bounds -- she is so far removed that she can be tender and cruel at the same time. These are her babies, sure, but she is a firm, Spartan mother with them. Really, it's not Dickens, but she's just a pleasure to read. I can't wait for her next book and will read her over Bellow or Roth any day.