Zadie Smith in 2000
Zadie Smith’s White Teeth, her debut novel in 2000 (she was only 25 when it was published), is one of the only novels I’ve ever read that consistently makes me laugh out loud, even upon multiple re-readings. Smith has since criticized her initial novel (she once once said of it,
“The truth is, it could do with some touching up. If it were a perfect piece of statuary, then no, one wouldn’t want anybody’s grubby fingers upon it. But it’s not, it’s more like a fat, messy kid who needs help” [Jordinson]),
but I still find it her most compulsively readable novel. Even upon multiple rereadings, I have an easier time getting through it than I do with, say, On Beauty (2005). I think a great deal of this has to do with the characters, who are funny, infuriating, and endlessly compelling.
Chief among these characters are Archie Jones and Samad Iqbal, whose friendship forms the core of the novel’s narrative. Their families intertwine in often humorous and sometimes tragic ways. Archie is a typical white, middle class, no-nonsense Brit who bumbles his way through his life and experiences, while Samad is a Bangladeshi immigrant to the UK who is haunted by his great-grandfather’s past actions and the idea that his children will grow up without an understanding or appreciation of their cultural heritage. Like many immigrant parents, he fears his children are becoming more enmeshed in the culture of their adopted country and losing touch with their family’s roots. Both men meet during World War II and are involved in an incident involving a sickly French scientist and Nazi collaborator named Dr. Perret, sometimes known as “Dr. Sick” because of an illness that causes him to shed tears of blood. This situation becomes vital later on in the book, but it nevertheless solidifies the relationship between Archie and Samad. For the next several decades, they are more or less inseparable, spending more time with each other in a pub, O’Connell’s, than with their families. Their interactions are often humorous, and as they get older, they become noticeably more irascible and air-brained as they understand their children less and less.
Archie’s and Samad’s family members are no less memorable or compelling. Clara, Archie’s wife, is the daughter of a Jamaican immigrant, Hortense Bowden, a fantatical Jehovah’s Witness; despite being forced to do various tasks for the Jehovah’s Witnesses, Clara rebelliously develops a high school fling with a dope named Ryan Topps who loves his motor scooter more than just about anything else, except maybe the Kinks and marijuana (until Hortense converts him, too, to be a Jehovah’s Witness). Then there is Alsana, Samad’s wife, a self-possessed and hardworking woman who has little time for her husband’s bullshit. (Or her son Millat’s bullshit, for that matter.) Some of the funniest interactions in the book take place between Samad and Alsana, who often resort to fisticuffs when their arguments inevitably get out of hand. These relationships dominate the first half of the novel, whereas the latter is focused on the Jones and Iqbal children.
Irie, the daughter of Archie and Clara, and Millat and Magid, the twin sons of Samad and Alsana, are for their parts incredibly engaging, perhaps moreso than their parents. Their stories eventually become entwined with that of the Chalfens, a pretentious family of intellectuals who are in most respects the polar opposites of the Joneses and Iqbals. As the novel winds towards its climax, each child grows up and becomes engaged in a variety of big-minded, sometimes radical, causes and organizations. Contrary to what Smith has said of the novel’s ending (she called it “calamitous” [Jordinson]), I find it to be completely fitting with the previous 450 pages or so. The last line still makes me chuckle, and I don’t think it would leave me with such a favorable impression if it were edited down. The Jones and Iqbal children resonate with me, not just because I teach students who resemble them in many regards, but also because Smith has characterized them so fully that they practically step off the page as living, breathing humans in a way that the older characters never quite do. (Archie and Samad ultimately come across as caricatures, however expertly crafted, whereas the children seem positively genuine.)
White Teeth is one of my favorite novels to teach, and I am about to embark on another year of reading it with my IB English seniors. I can’t wait to hear the students’ reactions. I tell them that it’s a comic novel, though I warn them it begins with Archie’s attempted suicide—which, contrary to what you might think, is still rendered humorously. Students in the past have either loved it or were apathetic towards it, though I can’t recall anyone outright hating it.
Over the next several weeks, I will be recording my own thoughts upon re-reading the novel as well as my students’ responses. My annual White Teeth study is one of my favorite literature units, and I cannot wait to get this year’s started.
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Works Cited
Jordinson, Sam. “How White Teeth transcends its many flaws.” The Guardian, Jul 21, 2020.
The Kneeland Nexus 