Zadie Smith
Author
NW, Penguin, 2012.
The window logs Kilburn’s skyline.
Ungentrified,
ungentrifiable. Boom and bust never come here.
Here bust is permanent.
The window logs Kilburn’s skyline. Ungentrified, ungentrifiable. Boom and bust never come here. Here bust is permanent.
Empty State Empire, empty Odeon graffiti-streaked sidings rising and falling like a rickety roller coaster. Higgledy-piggledy rooftops and chimneys, some high, some low, packed tightly, shaken fags in a box. Behind the opposite window, retreating Willesden. Number 37. In the 1880s or thereabouts the whole thing went up at once - houses, churches, schools, cemeteries - an optimistic vision of Metroland. Little terraces, faux-Tudor piles. All the mod cons! Indoor toilet, hot water. Wellappointed country living for those tired of the city. Fast-forward. Disappointed city living for those tired of their countries. (NW, p.47)
Walking down. Kilburn High Road Natalie Blake had a strong desire to slip into the lives of other people. It was hard to see how this desire could be practicably satisfied or what, if anything, it really meant. ‘Slip into’ is an imprecise thought. Follow the Somali kid home? Sit with the old Russian lady at the bus stop outside Poundland? Join the Ukrainian gangster at his table in the cake shop? A local tip: the bus stop outside Kilburn’s Poundland is the site of many of the more engaging conversations to be heard in the city of London. You’re welcome. Listening was not enough. Natalie Blake wanted to know people. To be intimately involved with them. (NW p.279)
Image and text courtesy of Zadie Smith