Small Worlds

...a novel of moods and vibes rather than thoughts and ideas ... The reliance on 'feeling' reflects a wider evasiveness in the book despite its rich, lyrical moments. Azumah Nelson’s descriptions — of music, food and sex in particular — are strong...But he’s less sure-footed when he goes internal. There’s a direct-from-Hallmark banality to some observations ... Often the phrasing is overwrought...or just bizarre. This is frustrating, because Small Worlds is a bighearted book, and Stephen is an amiable character. The most powerful emotions — anger at becoming estranged from his father, grief following a bereavement — are locked behind clotted prose, and there is no tonal difference between, say, a description of race riots and an account of learning to cook. But hold on, and hang in there. The third and last part of the book is the strongest, as Stephen renegotiates his relationship with his father. We get clarity, and a surprising narrative switch that somehow works.

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 works best when we’re given hints – to suggest, for instance, that the dark side of an otherwise happy family, the tension between father and son, has arisen from a glimpsed moment of intimacy between Eric and another woman which may have been misinterpreted by Stephen. Other pivotal scenes, such as Stephen’s trip to Elmina Castle in Ghana, from where enslaved Africans were shipped to the Americas, are bolted on, and read like a shortcut towards unearned gravitas ... There’s a confident thrum of poetic prose in much of the writing, especially in the depiction of the reconciliatory tenderness between Stephen and his father. Overall, though, Small Worlds feels hurried. It’s only two years on from the much admired debut of this talented writer; Nelson would have been better served had the fruit of his writing not been plucked and forced to ripen before it’s ready.

As they grow into their bodies and creative selves against a backdrop of urban (as in the sprawling, stinky, humming city) life and urban (as in black) music and culture, theirs is the ultimate modern romance, and we see it from the inside. Azumah Nelson’s characters are intelligent, and his poetic, elastic, bright prose has an uplifting energy, even when he’s writing about the pain of loneliness. There are hard chapters about London race riots, poverty, knife crime and grief. About contemporary Africa, global migration and loss of faith. Repeated words and phrases (including some from Open Water) form an insistent chorus. But beneath it all is a sense of wonder and delight at the gifts the world can bestow ... Turning pain into a blissful art form is nothing new for black creators, many of whom are namechecked in this culturally open novel. But Azumah Nelson is something new: an unashamedly clever, spiritual, angry, loving voice in fiction, just when we need it most. Small Worlds is a book for everyone. Sure, unless you are a London teenager or live with one, you’ll probably miss the resonance of some words and phrases — but no matter. No one could fail to feel the message, of always striving for emotional honesty and hope, that is at the heart of this uplifting symphony of a summer read.