white teeth. i'm reading this wonderful book. i've had my eye on it forever. but i never had the money to spare at a bookstore so finally i decided to go to the library to see if they had a copy. lo and behold, it was there, in all it's laminated paperback glory. free books for reading. i've rediscovered the wonders of the public library and i've got books and magazines spilled everywhere in my room. anyway. this book. is so damn well written. it makes me ashamed to be of my generation because zadie smith is hardly older than me and she can do such great things. then again, mozart completed his first symphony by age nine. so piss on that.



irie, looking strangely like the crowd on top of the wall in her everyday garb of CND badges, graffiti-covered trousers, and beaded hair, shook her head in saddened disbelief. she was that age. whatever she said burst like genius into centuries of silence. whatever she touched was the first stroke of its kind. whatever she believed was not formed by faith but carved from certainty. whatever she thought was the first time such a thought had ever been thunk.