An audio book.
London. Steve, the first-person protagonist, is in the last week of school, soon to go to university. He plays trumpet in a jazz group with Adeline (Del) sometimes. He has an older brother Raymond. His parents came from Ghana. He's interested in his parents' past. In particular he'd like to know how his father coped with being 18.
His grades aren't as good as expected. He does business studies at Nottingham while Del does music in London. He gives up after a term, goes home. His brother moves out, having got his girlfriend pregnant. His father chucks him out because he's a disappointment to the family. He trains to be a chef. He likes Annie, likes who he is with her - open, vulnerable - but she goes to Brazil. Del and Steve meet again, admitting to love each other. She gave up music college because she wasn't learning anything. His mother dies of a heart attack. They'd been planning to go to Ghana together. He goes anyway, finds out more about his mother's early life, gets drunk.
Ray teaches him how to drive, saying that he thinks their father's struggling. Steve hasn't seen his father for a year, not since the funeral. He tried to make up. He goes through his father's old records. He wants to know how to choose what to remember.
At the end, "you" (his father) tells of the struggles in `1986 London. Prejudice, poverty and love.
He prefers "small worlds" - being with one person. The voice is poetic in the way that an 18 year old's might be. "light" triggers phrases like the repeated "we find a way to walk in the light they left behind" (of the dead). "space" (the word or concept) is added to many otherwise straightforward phrases to replace "moment", etc - "into that space where", "the way desire might spill into the space", "somewhere between content and melancholy", etc. Other examples of imagery and poetical phrasing include -
- "Del's lips hold a brief home on my cheeks and we pull each other close. We give no goodbyes, we know death in its multitudes"
- "It's funny what you remember, what palaces you make to store the fragments"
- "I am the beach disappeared by the tide, I am the breath between two notes"
- "the way thunder asks you to check the sky for rain"
- "June veers towards July"
- "light clasps onto her neck"
- "shyness visits upon us"
- "it was the time of day when the sun was leaving the sky"
At times I find it too lush, but maybe that's the point. However, the vocabulary is elevated too - he uses words like "discern" - and he's aware that he sometimes "mirrors" people's gestures.
Other reviews
- Colin Grant (Small Worlds is determinedly not another rehearsal of the kind of voyeuristic tabloid interest in Black people’s lives marked by violence and social deprivation; rather, it’s a love story. At least it sets out that way ... The novel would also benefit from a more generous inclusion of the rich hybrid of London/Ghanaian vernacular. One of the challenges Nelson wrestles with is how to make soap opera-ish everyday dialogue support the narrator’s intimation of the characters’ sophisticated interior lives ... Other pivotal scenes [] are bolted on, and read like a shortcut towards unearned gravitas. In a novel told in three sections, not only is there a mystifying shift in register from a gentle love story in part one to the opening of part two, [] but the narrator’s reflections on the ensuing conflagrations, though sincere [] are unconvincing.)
- jacquiwine (I also love how Azumah Nelson uses repetition throughout the novel ... A great example of this is the relationship between remembering and forgetting. At times, we want to forget things because they feel painful (e.g. ‘Right now, I don’t want to remember. I only want to forget’), while at other times, the emphasis shifts to remembering because we want something to endure (e.g. ‘Sure you’ll remember me?’ […] ‘How could I forget’). Other themes that Azumah Nelson continues to revisit include: the link between solitude and loneliness, which ultimately feeds depression; the sense of feeling trapped between a desire to cry and the inability to do so; and the need to ‘lean into’ life’s uncertainties, especially to access new possibilities.)
- Liz Dexter