by Ali Smith
It was the worst of times, it was the worst of times. Again.
Autumn was written and published in the aftermath of that monumental act of collective stupidity that was the 2016 EU referendum. It took me ten years to finally read it (another happy find in our library). So yes, Brexit looms heavily in the background, but the novel is not about Brexit at all. What it is about then? Love, I suppose. Elisabeth and Daniel’s, of course, but also that of Elisabeth’s mother.
The scene of Elisabeth in the post office trying to apply for a passport via Check & Send service is both hilarious and painfully familiar. Been there, done that. Many times. And now that we apply for our passports online, we deal with so-called AI agent that is still unhappy with our photos.
Then he puts the booth photographs down in front of him. He screws his mouth over to one side. He shakes his head.
What? Elisabeth says.
No, I think it’s all right, he says. The hair. It has to be completely clear of your eyes.
It is completely clear of my eyes, Elisabeth says. It’s nowhere near my eyes.
It also can’t be anywhere near your face, the man says.
It’s on my head, Elisabeth says. That’s where it grows. And my face is also attached to my head.
Oh, and while she’s waiting for her turn, Elisabeth opens the book: Brave New World.
A squat grey building of only thirty-four stories. Over the main entrance the words, CENTRAL LONDON HATCHERY AND CONDITIONING CENTRE, and, in a shield, the World State’s motto, COMMUNITY, IDENTITY, STABILITY.
Is it how Brave New World actually begins? Yes. I just checked. I completely forgot about it. Bravo, Mr. Huxley.
I never heard about Pauline Boty until I read Autumn, so thank you Ali Smith for another discovery. Even so, I found the chapter dedicated to Boty (Autumn. 1963) interrupting, somewhat jarringly, the flow of otherwise exquisitely written work.
