Ali Smith’s How to be both (2014), is a novel in two
halves. One tells the story of George, a sixteen-year-old girl coping with the
death of her mother, funnelling grief into ‘60s dance routines, memories of a
family trip to Italy, and her friendship with a classmate, Helena, known simply
as H. The other half follows Francesco, a renaissance painter, who finds his
disembodied self dragged through time to the twenty-first century, to watch
George, while reflecting on his life. In some copies of the book, George’s
story comes first; in others, it is Francesco’s. It is a skilfully-written and fascinating
novel, one that both moved and intrigued me.
The writing is simply
suburb. It is perhaps not for everybody – at times it is unconventional, at
times a little difficult to follow. There are no speech marks in either
narrative, allowing thought, action and speech to run into one another. Francesco’s
narrative is more puzzling than George’s, his memories of the past and his visions
of the present interweaving, often without clear distinctions. However, Smith’s
writing style is very effective. While making use of stream-of-consciousness
techniques, the book is by no means as dense or alienating as, say, Will Self’s
Umbrella; after a few pages I got used
to the style and was thoroughly engaged in the book. Moreover, the writing
thoroughly enriches the stories and characters, giving us a much more personal
insight into the minds of both George and Francesco.
In my copy, it is
George’s narrative that comes first, then Francesco’s. The strangest thing is,
I literally cannot imagine the book the other way around; I can’t see it
working as well – it feels so perfect and right as it is. I am curious to know if
those who read the book the other way around feel the same; it would be an even
stronger sign of Smith’s skill and success if this is the case. As it is, I
think I am probably glad I read it as I did; although I ultimately loved both
sections of the book, I did find George’s more immediately compelling.
Francesco’s narrative is more distinctly stream-of-consciousness in style, and
I found it much less easy to follow than George’s; however, once I had got used
to it and became more interested in Francesco’s character, life and
complexities, I was as engaged by that half of the book as I was by George’s. I
think, however, that if I had started with Francesco’s it might have taken me longer
to get into the book. Regardless, I think Smith’s idea of having a novel in two
reversible parts is a very interesting one, especially as How to be both is in many ways a book about breaking down binaries
and dualisms – about how to be both past and present, male and female, one
thing and another. The reading experience must be very different depending on which
section you get first, and so How to be
both is in a sense two different novels; the book itself encapsulates the
art of being both.
It is in many ways a
novel driven by its themes. Those of art, loss, grief, family, friendship – and
of course, gender. We have George, a sixteen-year-old girl; her full name is
Georgia, but she always goes by George, generally a male name. When Francesco
is first pulled through to the twenty-first century, he mistakes George for a
boy, because she has short hair and is wearing trousers. And then we have Francesco
himself, an Italian Renaissance painter born biologically a woman, who becomes
a man in name, dress, prospects and perhaps identity, in order to follow his
dream of becoming a painter.
Yet gender is by no
means the only “binary” explored in How
to be both. One of my favourite aspects of the book was its exploration of
the intermingling of past and present. Of course Francesco’s narrative is key
here: in his section of the book, his memories of his life in Renaissance Italy
and what he sees in George’s twenty-first century mingle and weave together. I
especially love his descriptions of modern behaviour – how people ‘all talk
into their hands as they peripatate and all carry these votives, the size of a
hand… dedicated to saints perhaps or holy folk.’ Moreover, the present and past
interweave in George’s narrative too in a very clever and moving way. Both her
current experiences, and her memories from before her mother’s death, are
narrated in present tense, and the difference between what her mother ‘says’
and what her mother ‘said’ preoccupy George; making the space between present
and past simultaneously feel both minute and gigantic.
In short, I highly
recommend Ali Smith’s How to be both. It
is a brilliantly written novel, with fascinating characters and deftly explored
themes. It is not always an easy read, but it is a rewarding one, complex,
thought-provoking, and highly moving.
Greatest
strength: Probably
the writing, and the idea itself.
Greatest
weakness: As I
said, it did take me a little while to get into the start of Francesco’s narrative.
Let’s
finish on a quote:
‘Art makes nothing happen in a way that makes something happen.’
Next week: will be a guest review by Chris
King, of Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World.
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