White teeth: a novel by Zadie Smith

Author:Zadie Smith [Smith, Zadie]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Unread
ISBN: 9780375703867
Publisher: Vintage Books
Published: 2000-04-14T23:00:00+00:00

than his father's own haphazard appearance on the planet in the

back-room of a Bromley public house circa 1895 or 1896 or quite

possibly 1897, depending on which nonagenarian ex-barmaid you spoke

to.

Clara Bowden knew a little about her grandmother, and half believed

the story that her famed and prolific Uncle P. had

Me 1990, 1907

thirty-four children, but could only state definitively that her own

mother was born at 2.45 p.m. 14 January 1907, in a Catholic church in

the middle of the Kingston earthquake. The rest was rumour, folk-tale

and myth:

another man & Great-great-great-Grandma (Lady The?) &

Great-great-great-Grandfather

another man & [Way Back When-Lord Knows]

%?G %?G %?G Old man Bob [Hoi heap of time]

[Way Back When-Lord Knows]

I I I | ^ I

Great-grandmother Great Uncle P. Great Auntie Great Auntie Great

Auntie

Ambrosia Bowden [iSpoish- i96oish] Meeshell Lavinia Patricia

[iSpoish-ipsoish] & God knows how & some no-good

Si Captain Charlie many women raggamuffins

"Whitey' Durham [i88oish-Lord Knows]

Grandmother 34 children. unknown unknown 3 kids %? G

Hortense Bowden Amongst them, issue issue

[1907- ] Auntie Susie, Bobo,

= fm. 1947] G-man, Delroy,

Darcus Bowden Bigface,

[1910-1985] Lady Penelope

Clara Bowden = Archie Jones [1955- ] [1927- ]

fm. 1975]

Irie Ambrosia Jones [1975- ]

Key

& = copulated with % = paternity unsure ? = child's name unknown G =

brought up by grandmother

"You guys go so far back," said Irie, as Marcus came up behind her to

see what was of interest. "It's incredible. I can't imagine what that

must feel like."

"Nonsensical statement. We all go back as far as each other. It's

just that the Chalfens have always written things down said Marcus

thoughtfully, stuffing his pipe with fresh tobacco. "It helps if you

want to be remembered

"I guess my family's more of an oral tradition said Irie with a shrug.

"But, man, you should ask Millat about his. He's the descendant of-'

"A great revolutionary. So I've heard. I wouldn't take any of that

seriously, if I were you. One part truth to three parts fiction in

that family, I fancy. Any historical figure of note in your lot?"

asked Marcus, and then, immediately uninterested in his own question,

returned to his search of filing cabinet number two.

"No ... no one .. . significant. But my grandmother was born in

January 1907, during the Kingston '

"Here we are!"

Marcus emerged triumphant from a steel drawer, brandishing a thin

plastic folder with a few pieces of paper in it.

"Photographs. Especially for you. If the animal-rights lot saw these,

I'd have a contract out on my life. One by one now. Don't grab

Marcus passed Irie the first photo. It was of a mouse on its back. Its

stomach was littered with little mushroom-like growths, brown and

puffy. Its mouth was unnaturally extended, by the prostrate position,

into a cry of agony. But not genuine agony, Irie thought, more like

theatrical agony. More like a mouse who was making a big show of

something. A barn-mouse. A luwie-mouse. There was something

sarcastic about it.

"You see, embryo cells are all very well, they help us understand the

genetic elements that may contribute to cancer, but what you really

want to know is how a tumour progresses in living tissue, I mean, you

can't approximate that in a culture, not really. So then

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