Small Island

Written by Andrea Levy and winner of the Whitbread Book of the Year and Orange Prize for Fiction in 2004, Small Island is probably one of the best different and novel novels to come out of the last decade. Admittedly, it’s not really the type of book that I am drawn to and, having now read it, I still stick with that opinion. But it tells a simple story flashing forwards and backwards through past and present and each character (more or less) is given equal focus and breadth. 

It’s 1948 and England is recovering from the war. But at number 21 Nevern Street, London the conflict and struggles have only just begun as Hortense, wife of RAF soldier Gilbert Joseph, has gotten off the boat from Jamaica and discovered that England is not the golden country of sophistication that she expected. Finding herself living with Gilbert in a decrepit room, the shining life of a teacher that she had hoped for gets dashed in a haze of racism and disappointment. Gilbert, in desperation seven months ago called on a wartime friend for help and Queenie Bligh, against her better judgement and as a means to help her own desperate situation made by the war, takes him in. The neighbours do not approve of Queenie’s lodgers, but with the war over and her husband missing, what can she do? 

One thing that I really struggled with in this book and what ultimately makes it such a different and admittedly fresh novel is the focalisation and dialogue. The story is told through the narration of multiple characters (Hortense, Gilbert, and Queenie centrally), but what proves to be a bit jarring is the way that the narration of the Jamaican characters does not reflect their dialogue. In their narration (which is how they think they sound) quite strong and more or less perfect English in words and sentence structures prevail. But when they have dialogue (which is how they actually sound), their accent comes through in the writing and the difference is really striking and discordant. Having said this, this really quite clever technique of Levy’s is what predominantly conveys the ‘humour’ of the novel (though I really didn’t find any parts all that funny) in placing the reader within the same realm as the English characters in terms of the language barrier (though readers have a strong upper hand). 

Levy also uses flashbacks and flashforwards between the past and the present, which works really well to round out these characters and make them real and 3-dimensional. You like them, you hate them, even if the book is not your style you find yourself responding emotionally to these characters and that’s an achievement. 

Filled with action, warfare, violence, romance, drama, racism, and comedy, Small Island is a clever and beautifully crafted novel that I appreciated for its difference from other books. Its British-Jamaican voice is fresh and novel and the flashback and focalisation techniques that Levy uses are efficient in a lovely way. But it’s a book that I struggled with and, in all honesty, didn’t change from a book that I wouldn’t read to one that I would. Whilst I can appreciate what this book does and why it is considered special and masterful, it’s just not my style.