Although I am not a regular churchgoer anymore, I still speak to and surround myself with Christians who are both black and white. Even if you're not religious, I believe it's good to have Christians in your social circle.  Surrounding yourself with genuine Christians helps ground me in a secular world filled with temptation and hatred. Growing up, I went to an African-dominated church in East London, but when I was an undergraduate student in Brighton, I went to a mixed church where most of the congregation was white. Attending these two churches, I gradually became aware of one major difference between black Christians, and white Christians. This difference was their relationship with Satan. 

For many black Christians, I noticed that Satan is such a central and pronounced part of their Christian lives than it is for white Christians. Black Christians, particularly those who are of African descent, blame Satan for everything that goes wrong in their lives. Absolutely everything.

There was a period in my life where a lot of things weren’t going my way. Life was playing around with me or, more accurately, i was playing around with life. I was making a lot of mistakes in my professional and personal life. My mother, bless her, who is a very devout Christian, would always say to me during this turbulent period by saying: "The Devil is a liar. It will not be your portion."

When I sought consolation from my African Christian friends, they would spout similar refrains: “The Devil will not win.” “Satan’s works will not manifest in your life.” “You will overcome the demons in your life.”
If you genuinely believe in and practice Christianity, then the power of Satan is real. I am not arguing against that at all. However, I do think to place Satan or the Devil at the centre of all your misfortunes and wrong decisions will hold you back, even if you are the most devout Christian.

YOU are usually the problem, not Satan

From a Christian perspective, you can’t deny that Satan is a powerful force in human’s lives. There are many scriptures in the Bible which explicitly refer to the Devil; the fallen angel Lucifer and the manifestation of evil. However, the scriptures also mention human’s evil intentions. Have a read of James 1: 13 -16 which directly alludes to human’s capacity to follow the evil intent within their hearts.
It’s not uncommon to hear stories of pastors having extramarital affairs or embezzling money from their churches. Most of the time, when a pastor's wrongdoings come to light, and he or she has no choice but to admit their fault, the apology is always framed so that it was Satan who enticed the pastor to commit their wrongdoings.

Whenever African Christians, and it’s a trait I find common with this group, blame Satan for their wrong choices, I never accept their apology. I find it to be the height of insincerity. If a husband cheats on his wife with a young woman, he made that decision to do it. Wives will pray that Satan stops tempting their husband or pray that Satan will not put a pretty woman in their husband’s pathway, but I find this ridiculous. A man cheats on his wife because he has the desire within him to do so. The husband is the problem, not the Devil.
 
Self-improvement is about you overcoming yourself, not defeating Satan

Whenever something negative happens in your life, it’s easy to blame Satan or demonic influences as many Africans tend to. Lost your job. It is demonic forces. Wife wants to divorce you. It is demonic forces. Boss is giving you stress. It is demonic forces.

Believing that Satan or demonic forces are the causes of all the negativity in your life glosses over the reality of why you're now in a terrible place in your life and disables you from finding the root cause of a problematic situation. Sometimes, the reason you lost your job is because of a mistake you made or perhaps the reason your marriage is failing is that you're no longer fulfilling your partner's needs. Without rational reasoning and looking inwardly at yourself, you will never understand the root cause because you’ve blamed it on some vague, abstract concept of ‘demonic forces’ or ‘the works of Satan.’
​
I am a massive believer in self-improvement. But you can't improve yourself and become a better person if you cannot take responsibility for your actions and do what is necessary to ensure you don’t make these mistakes again. Even the Bible says faith without works is dead. Also if you believe Satan is working against you, you won't be able to combat Satan if you do not put in the effort necessary.

" Believing that Satan or demonic forces are the causes of all the negativity in your life glosses over the reality of why you're now in a terrible place in your life and disables you from finding the root cause of a problematic situation. "

​Many African Christians need to start assessing their mistakes and bad choices as a result of their selfish desires or unwise decisions. Pointing the finger at some intangible spirit like Satan or demons will not solve your problems. Look into yourself, admit you made the wrong choice and then find the strength in yourself and through God to improve. No ‘demonic spirit’ can affect you if your resolve is strong enough.  

​I don’t know about you lot, but I am anticipating BckChat Uncensored. It’s switching up the usual format of ‘round-table’ discussions and moving abroad. From the preview, it looks like a black, South-London version of Love Island and I can tell this is going squeeze so much laughter out my lungs.
 
My more highbrow, intellectually-minded friends don’t quite understand why I like BckChat London. Yes, it's loud. Yes, it's vulgar, and yes, it can be misogynistic. But you know what? It is unapologetically Black British. Being born and bred in London, the cast of BckChat are around my age, and they are so recognisably and refreshingly familiar in their mannerisms and viewpoints. It is refreshing to watch a show like this which is so true to its roots.
 
Another familiar show I’ve recently started watching that is similar to BckChat London is 3shotsoftequilla. Its premise is identical to that BckChat London but exclusively features Black British men discussing a variety of topics. Like BckChat, it's very Black British, very loud and, if you grew up in London, very entertaining. It’s like I am listening to the sort of banter I have with my friends.
 
Black British is an identify now
 
I think now, arguably more than ever, we are in a period where Black British culture is permeating confidently through mainstream British society and feels authentic, rather than trying to be African American. I don't think we've quite reached the renaissance or the golden era, but there's been a shift. Growing up in London, I remember a time where the notion of ‘Black British' was a nebulous concept. I never identified as a Black British person when I was a teenager. When I was 13, if someone asked me what I identify as, I would have replied that I identify as a Nigerian. Ask me now, at 29, and I’d say I am “Black British” or, more specifically, “British Nigerian.” I have reconciled my Britishness with my Nigerianess. 
 
A massive factor in this successful reconciliation is because the idea of being “Black British” is a tangible construct because we have a collective culture, albeit a developing one, but a culture nonetheless. The forging of a truly authentic black British culture started with the Notting Hill Carnival followed by a series of events throughout the 70s and 80s that are too complex to cover in this single blog post. The emergence of jungle and garage music in the 90s added another layer to black British culture. The rise of grime music in the noughties further gave the young, third generation Black British youth a voice. Black British identify has become even more concrete now with afrobeats, drill music and with entertainers like Mo The Comedian and Michael Dappah, who have entertained the mainstream without losing their Black British identity.
 
From a sociological perspective, a confident Black British identify has manifested because black people in England have become more unified. Growing up in Newham, East London, I remember a time where African and Caribbean kids didn't get along. There was this silent animosity between us mainly because the Caribbean culture was seen as ‘cooler' than African culture. The only reason this was the case was that Caribbean people had been in England longer than Africans, so their culture was better acclimatised into British society. Now we have reached a point where all black people in England play together. The second and third generation of African and Caribbean adults now have mutual respect towards each other in England which has helped solidify the Black British identity.
 
We have not yet entered the Black British cultural renaissance
 
As much as I love shows like BckChat and 3shotsoftequilla, they are very similar in style and structure. Both of them are very London-centric, and both of them can become a little too immature, a little too loud and a little too foolish. But it’s entertainment. And good entertainment at that.
 
But what I would like to see is more content from Black British creators which is more intellectually stimulating. We do have the Mostly Lit podcast which I implore you to check out if you’re looking for some Black British content which is less in-your-face and more cerebral than BckChat and 3shottequilla. Rapman's Blue Story trilogy and Shiro's Story are examples of mature, Black British storytelling in film. 
 
I am not saying every single piece of Black British culture must be brainy and have some deeper subtext. We have highbrow and lowbrow white British culture, and we should also have highbrow and lowbrow Black British culture. But I feel we do not have enough of the former. Now the drill genre dominates Black British music, and our content online is entertaining but mostly loud and silly. Even our movies are just big and flashy, with little introspection or any thoughtful analysis of the Black British psyche. This year's most prominent Black British film was Intent 2: The Come Up. While I paid to watch that movie and enjoyed it, it’s a damn shame that this was the biggest and most advertised Black British movie of 2018.
 
For Black British culture to reach new heights, we need more Black British creators developing content which goes beyond just entertaining us. We need material that makes us think and takes a proper look at Black British lives growing up in Britain and all its complexities. The reason why I've decided to become a part-time, cultural writer is that I wanted to write fiction and non-fiction books which explore the lives of Black British people in a way that truthfully comments on our flaws, our conflicted lives while also being entertaining.
 
Black British culture is varied and black creators should be communicating every aspect of it. Loud, fun and flashy is great, but Black British culture is and must be more than that if we want real longevity.
 
They still talk about Shakespeare; let’s do our best to make sure they are still talking about us 200 years from now.

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​Overview
 
I’ve been shamefully late on reading any books from Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, the most exciting Nigerian author if you believe the literary hype. Over the years, I've heard nothing but gushing praises about her books since she published Purple Hibiscus in 2003. So I made a solemn promise to myself at the start of this year to read one of her books and decided to pick up Americanah.
 
For me, reading Americanah was like eating at a 3-star Michelin restaurant that doesn't quite live up to its rating. The food is delicious and fills your stomach, but you can't help but be somewhat disappointed because it's a 3-star Michelin restaurant. Americanah is a great book; I would even go as far as to say it's an essential book as it examines contemporary Nigerian identity and the experiences of being black in America in a way no other book, to my knowledge, has. But with all the furore surrounding Adichie, I expected a stronger story. For all its acute, intelligent and enlightening observations on race, identify, and sex, Americanah’s love story felt perfunctory and predictable, becoming the least exciting part of the book. 
 
What is it about?
 
Americanah tells the story of two contemporary Nigerians, the fiercely opinionated but intelligent Ifemelu and the bookish, American culture-loving Obinze. The two form a romantic relationship in Nigeria.
 
When Nigeria falls into a military dictatorship, throwing its educational system into disarray, Ifemelu travels to the USA to continue her studies and eventually wins a fellowship at Princeton. Despite his love for America and his desperation to move there, Obinze ends up going to London where he becomes an illegal immigrant. Desperate to reach America, Obinze goes to great lengths to arrange a sham marriage so he can obtain British citizenship and eventually head over to America. 
 
Without spoiling what happens in the rest of the novel, Obinze and Ifemelu eventually reunite in Nigeria as two very different people. But can they rekindle their relationship after living in different countries for so long?
 
Positives
 
As a social commentary on Nigerian identity, the Nigerian diaspora in both America and England, racism in America and sexual attitudes in Nigeria, Americanah is in a class of its own. Adichie makes some very insightful observations about what it means to be black in America, not only as a black American but as an African in America. I never even considered it before but being African American and being African are two very different things in America. I learned a great deal about race relations in America reading Americanah.
 
The book contains passages taken from Ifemelu’s fictional blog on race relations that she decides to write when she’s been living in America for a while. These segments from Ifemelu’s blog post are brilliant, and I loved them. The wit, intelligence, and social commentary Adichie communicates through Ifemelu’s blog is a stroke of genius.
 
I also really enjoyed Obinze’s and Ifemelu’s characters. Whenever I ever read about or watch contemporary Nigerian characters, they are often just lazy stereotypes – loud, superficial women or untrustworthy, superficial men. And while these types of Nigerians do populate the book (every stereotype has a seed a truth), Obinze and Ifemelu felt like real people because Adichie wrote them with relatable characteristics and with a welcome nuance not often given to Nigerian characters. 
 
Negatives
 
The love story. At the heart of Americanah is the love story between Obinze and Ifemelu that beats as you expect it too. With the rest of the book filled with rich ideas and observations about race, identify and sex, the love story is just competent. It's safe. It's predictable. We learn that  Obinze’s wife is superficial and does not understand Obinze. We learn that Obinze and Ifemelu still feel the same for each other after years apart. I know it’s a love story, therefore, comes with certain expectations as demanded by the genre but I wish Adichie could have made it less predictable.
 
Also, a lot of the story is about Ifemelu’s experiences in America much to the detriment of Obinze’s story in London. While Ifemelu’s story in America is captivating and I enjoyed reading about the relationship with her two American boyfriends, at times, it also really bored me. I didn't care about Ifemelu’s time in the hairdresser or about her being a babysitter for a wealthy family. These parts were unexciting, and I wish Adichie had fleshed out Obinze’s experience as an illegal immigrant in London a bit more.
 
Lastly, I  felt that the book had too many secondary characters. We learn about a whole host of Obinze's and Ifemelu’s friends in Nigeria, and when Ifemelu is in America, she makes a whole bunch of other friends that Adichie introduces us to. I understand that these cast of characters reveal different facets of the themes Adichie is exploring in the novel, but I wish she had cut some of them down or combined them into one character. 
 
Final verdict
 
Americanah is probably the best book written right now about race in America and the social experiences of contemporary Nigerians. Adichie is adept at observing how Americans treat people of colour and how Nigeria's society behaves, mainly its middle-class. The book is worth a read alone to learn about these themes. It will change how you view the dynamics and social constructs of race.
 
But the book’s love story is weak compared to its exceptional social commentary. Obinze and Ifemelu are fantastic characters, but the story of their love is underwhelming and undercooked, making the book feel a bit uneven because it's social commentary shines brighter than its actual love story. As a result, Americanah falls short of greatness, but it is still a quality read nonetheless. 

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​So, last night, my Twitter feed blew up. Chris Rock was trending. Initially, I thought two things: 1) Please don’t tell me Chris Rock is dead or 2) Please don’t tell me Chris Rock has become another casualty of the #metoo movement.
 
It turned out it was neither. Instead, Chris Rock was trending because of the word “Nigga.” A word that is up there as one of the most talked-about, most contested and most heated words in the history of language.
 
But what had Chris Rock done? Well, a clip from 2011 (not even this year, which shows how easily triggered the internet, and by extension, our society, since the internet is a more accurate representation of our society than actual society, has become) shows Chris Rock, Ricky Gervais and Louis CK humorously talking about comedy. During this segment, Louis CK starts casually throwing around the word "nigga" a few times, and Chris Rock rolls back his eyes in laughter. You can watch the clip here.
 
Did I mention how easily triggered my generation is? The twitter mob formed in droves to condemn Louis CK for uttering the word, sacred only to black people, and then proceeded to shame Chris Rock for sitting there during the entire segment, doing nothing while a white man with a ginger beard was letting the word roll from his tongue right in front of him.
 
Now, I’ve watched this clip a few times. After I did, I just shrugged my shoulders. Once again, ‘woke’ Twitter has exaggerated its anger, acting like everything is a slight against black people (*yawn*) without really thinking logically about it.  
 
However, this new ‘issue’ did get me thinking about my relationship with the word ‘nigger' or ‘nigga' (is there a difference?), how I feel when I use it and my thoughts on non-black people who use it.
 
What’s up my, Ni$$a?
 
I am not going to feign some intellectual superiority and say I am above using the word. It would be a lie, and I do my best to always remain authentic. So yes, I do use the word ‘nigga.’ Not always, mind you, I am not in a rap video. But I do sometimes use it, like many young black men, in a few different contexts as described below:
 
As a term of endearment to my black friend
e.g. “What’s up, my nigga”
 
As a derogatory term, if I feel a black friend, always male, is acting selfish
ly, e.g. "Give me more pie. Don't be a nigga."
 
As a derogatory term, if a black male is behaving in a way that one could consider stereotypical
e.g. “Look how he is behaving. Like a nigga.”
 
Of course, I would never use the word within a professional context because I am not an idiot. But when I am around friends, even white friends, in a casual setting, then yes, I’ll sometimes use the word and always in a humorous way.
 
I am aware of the history of the word and what it once meant. But words can take on new meaning, especially when they become a colloquialism. To me, the term ‘nigga’ has become a slang word among many black people, and I use it in that context. It once meant something else, but black people have given it another meaning. Words can be malleable like that.
 
But should non-black people use the word?
 
Now, this is where we get into the sensitive and touchy ground. Earlier this year, on stage, Kendrick Lamar angrily called out a white fan when this fan shouted the word “nigger.”  I didn't quite understand his anger. He uses the word "nigger" in his lyrics but then becomes inflamed when someone says it as part of the lyrics to his song? But he's okay if a black person says it? It's illogical. 
 
The problem in my opinion (and it's an unpopular opinion I know), is that black people have reclaimed the word "nigger" and now suddenly we've become all precious over it. We act as if it only belongs to us, thus given the word a 'forbidden fruit’ aura. It’s like we're tempting non-black people to use it because we make such a big deal about it.
 
No word belongs to anyone. If you use the word "nigger" in your lyrics, how on earth can you be pissed off if a white fan, who bought tickets to see you live, says the word when he or she is reciting a song you wrote? Is that fan supposed to censor themselves if they’re not black?
 
I am not advocating that white people can use the word any way they want. Naturally, when the word comes out from a non-white person's mouth, it takes on a dark history which I don't need to explain (slavery, duh). It is for this reason why context and common-sense is always so crucial.
 
If I humorously call a white friend a historically derogative term for white people and then he calls me the n-word, then, within this context, we are both joking around with each other. So, I am not going to be offended. Now, if a random white man came up to me on the street and shouted "nigga" to my face well that's a whole different context.
 
Of course, a non-black person should ask themselves why they are using this word in the first place. If it's for light comedy, if it's part of a song lyric and it is not said maliciously or used as a way to legitimately belittle a black person, then, for me, it wouldn't be a problem. However, a white person who carelessly says the word all the time because they think it's "cool" is an idiot but I probably still wouldn’t be offended. There are much more cruel things in the world to be offended about, trust me.
 
" The problem in my opinion (and it's an unpopular opinion I know), is that black people have reclaimed the word "nigger" and now suddenly we've become all precious over it. We act as if it only belongs to us, thus given the word a 'forbidden fruit' aura. It’s like we're tempting non-black people to use it because we make such a big deal about it. "
​
In the case of this Chris Rock video, I am not mad at Chris Rock or Louis CK. It's evident that Chris did not mind Louis CK saying the word because they have a certain camaraderie. I am sure Chris Rock has probably called Louis CK all kinds of names relating to his gingerness and his receding hairline.
 
As always, I love ‘woke' Twitter, but at times it frustrates me. The black community in western society need to stop being precious about the word ‘nigger.' Consider the context in which it is used. Not everything is a deliberate slight against us.  
​
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A few years ago, I was on a date with this pretty, young girl. She had winked at me from across the table and with a cheeky smile said:

"I know you have a baby mama."
 
I smiled at her and, in a playful tone, I replied:

“Maybe I do, and maybe I don't, so what?”
 
By the way, I didn’t have a daughter at this point in my life. I was newly single after ending my three-year relationship with my girlfriend I had met and dated at Uni. 
 
This girl I was on a date with laughed at my response and we continued the rest of our evening, talking very casually about our past sexual experiences. I don’t need to spell out what happened after we got the bill.
 
A year later, I recall speaking with a close friend of mine about a young woman from Liverpool that he had met in Bournemouth. They had slept with each other. I was sitting in the passenger seat of his car when I asked him:
 
“Bro, what happened to that nice girl from Liverpool you were kinda seeing? She was alright?”
 
A wry smile formed on my friend’s face.

“She didn’t want to date because I am a black guy and she thinks I’ll cheat on her. Can you imagine.” His tone was thick with mockery. Of course, he would.
 
Looking back at these two exchanges from my past, it got me thinking. Why is it that many heterosexual, westernised women and men think black men are cheaters? The word ‘player’ is synonymous with the phrase ‘young black men" but why is that? Why do many black men feel like they are supposed to be very sexual? Are infidelity and sexual prowess somehow innate within the DNA of black men or is this a myth perpetuated by western culture and the media?
 
 I love girls, girls, girls
 
Most heterosexual men love women. Most heterosexual men are capable of cheating. Infidelity is universal across all types of men and women as well (but this post is not about that). But yet, I’ve heard many women tell me they would never date a black guy because they honestly believe nearly all black men are players. To them, white men are more loyal. More faithful. Whenever I hear it, I always roll my eyes. Where does this notion come from? It must be from black culture of course.
 
Culture is like an invisible language that we all understand. It gives us a common reference point in which to provide some meaning to the things around us. Hip Hop and R'n'B culture is arguably the most visible black culture across western society. And in this culture, men portray themselves as highly sexual and highly promiscuous. Listen to Jay-Z's "girls, girls, girls," for example. Listen to almost any song by Trey Songz. Watch most of the rap videos from the 90s and noughties. Heck, even the recent furor around Offset cheating on Cardi B. Black male rappers are singing about cheating on women (and doing it), sleeping with an abundance of women and boasting about their unrivalled sexual prowess under the sheets. A lot of women have swallowed this image of black men whole and therefore view them as highly sexual and highly promiscuous.   
 
Now, if you look at music genres dominated by Caucasian men such as rock or pop music, their subject matter is rarely about how many women they have slept with or how many times they will make a woman orgasm. If they sing about women, it’s in a way that is admiring and rarely misogynistic. David Bowie never oversexualised himself the same way R Kelly did.
 
Over the years, with the introduction of more sensitive and less sexual rappers like Drake and Kanye West, we have seen this oversexualised image of black men diminish in Hip-hop and R'n'B music and culture. But still, the legacy of hypersexual black male rap artists and singers from the 90s and 2000s still lingers.
 
Are some women oversexualising black men to their detriment?
 
Going back to the scene of the date I had years ago, would my date had made a joke about me having a baby mama if I was a white man? Even though I had been coy about it for humorous effect, what if I did have a baby mother I wasn't taking care of? Would she have cared? A big part of me doesn't think she would have because to her "black men have baby mamas" and this is what she expected from a black man.
 
I am not saying black men don't leave a trail of women with their children behind. But this is not a behaviour typical to only black men in the way society and our culture continuously perpetuates. And I'll concede that absent fathers happens more in black communities but this is the result of a lack of education and not because "it's what black men do." 
 
The myth that all black men have the biggest penis (I've spoken to a few girls who have told me this isn't even true), is another way that women overly sexualise black men. I remember the first time sleeping with one particular girl, and she said to me:

"I hope it doesn't hurt. I know what you black guys have down there."

At the time, being in my late teens, this inflated my ego but, looking back at it now, it irritates me. To be reduced to the size of my penis.
 
On another occasion, following a holiday fling in Ibiza in my early 20s, the girl who I had slept with, while putting on her clothes, had said to me:
 
“I thought you’d be more aggressive in bed?”
 
“Really? Why?” I asked.
 
"Because black men are usually proper aggressive in bed, right?" She told me that she had only slept with three black guys, which included me, so how could she make such a wide-spread statement about how black men are 'supposed to be' in bed?
 
What some women are inadvertently doing is giving some black men a free pass to cheat on them without even realising it. When women tell black men “I know you have a big dick” or “I know you’re a player” or “I know you’ve slept with so many girls” and yet still sleep with him, she’s objectifying him by sexualising his blackness. What happens when they do this? Many black men think that because these women will still sleep with them anyway because they like the fact he behaves in a very sexual and promiscuous way, they continue acting like this. Simply put, these women don’t expect any other standard from black men and black men know this.
 
A caveat though. This objectification and over-sexualisation of black men are often carried out by women who aren't black. In my experience, black women don't examine black men the same way. Of course, they too can find a black man attractive because he has a nice body that is appealing and he looks like he might be good in bed (I still don’t understand how a woman can tell), but this is rarely assumed just because he has black skin. 
 
We need more representations of black men that aren't hypersexual or hyperaggressive  
 
As I touched on earlier, if there is one development that I am thankful for in Hip Hop and R'n'B culture, it's that black men are no longer portraying themselves as hypersexual and hyperaggressive. There is more humanity in black popular culture. Citing examples such as Kanye West, Drake and Kendrick Lamar, these rappers speak more about their emotions rather than just their sexual dominance and sexual exploits. Even films like the Academy-Award winning Moonlight, directed by the talented Barry Jenkins, are deconstructing this stereotype, portraying the sensitive sides of black men rather than only showing our sexual or aggressive sides as was the case in the past. 
 
" When women tell black men “I know you have a big dick” or “I know you’re a player” or “I know you’ve slept with so many girls” and yet still sleep with him, she’s objectifying him by sexualising his blackness. "

One of the main reasons I wanted to become a writer on the side was because I wanted to write stories which portray black men as flawed, complex, funny and multi-faceted humans. I want to move away from this caricature of black men as overly sexual and overly aggressive.
 
Promiscuity is not something that occurs mostly in black communities. Watch an episode of Jeremy Kyle, and you will see stories of white men cheating as well. It’s not a black man thing.
 
Lastly, black artists have a responsibility not to oversexualise themselves through our art by only talking, writing and rapping about sex with women.  That's so 90s, and we must continue to move past that.  

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Overview 
This book had been on my reading list as far back as 2009. But back then I was living in Brighton, too busy being an undergraduate student focused on trying to obtain as many numbers from girls as I could and go to as many club nights as I could, rather than finding the time to read this novel. Nine years later, and I finally got round to reading it. In hindsight, I am glad I read it as a 28-year-old with a better understanding of life, rather than as the bright but very immature 18-year old that I was. 

White Teeth is one of the funniest, most heartfelt and most well-written books I've ever read. I devoured its 560 pages in less than a week. The novel, drenched in so much wisdom, made me feel like a wiser person when I finished it. It is no easy feat for any novelist to make its reader grow, so I was shocked (and a little jealous) when I discovered Zadie Smith had written this brilliant debut at only 22 when she was still an undergraduate at Cambridge! At 22, my greatest feat was drinking fifteen tequila shots and making it back to my dormitory in one peace. 

Although I've spent the last two paragraphs lavishing this novel with praise, it's not a book I can recommend to everyone. White Teeth is a literary novel, and the probability of you loving it as much as I did will depend on your patience, reading level and your interest in British multiculturalism. 

What is it about?

The book has an omniscient narrator and mainly follows the lives of two loveable but flawed World War II veterans and diametrically-opposed best friends - Archie Jones and Samad Iqbal. Archie is an unassuming and easy-going white British man who later marries a  young, Jamaican woman named Clara Bowden, who has a bit of a teething problem (white teeth are a reoccurring motif hence the title of the book). Samad Iqbal (my favourite character in the book) is a Bangladeshi Muslim man, married to a very young wife named Alsana. Samad is a man riddled with self-loathing as he struggles to be an exemplary Muslim man. He nurtures a delusional myth about his family's greatness and has an intense loathing of Westernised culture even though it is rooted in him and his children, whether he wants to admit it or not. 

Throughout the book, we learn about Samad's two twin sons, who have two very different personalities and grow up to become two very different men. We also follow the life of Archie and Clara's mixed-race daughter, Irie, a body-conscious teenager. There are also a whole host of secondary characters that populate the book, linked to Samad, Archie and their respective families. The book explores themes of religion, war, heritage, youth, blackness and even genetic engineering. Smith is determined to comment on a wide range of issues and ideas, which is both her debut's strength and, for some readers, perhaps also its curse as well. 

Positives

As someone who is aspiring to be a novelist and whose stories tread familiar territory, White Teeth is a masterclass in fiction writing. Honestly, the prose is so sharp, Smith's narration so witty and intelligent, that nearly every sentence is a gem of wisdom. Smith's writing is so confident and complete; I feel I am wholly under-qualified to assess it until I've written a book that comes close to this quality if ever do. Smith owns the narrator's voice, and it drew me in from the first sentence.  If you're an aspiring writer, White Teeth is worth the read just for the quality of its writing alone.  

Prose aside, White Teeth is so crazily ambitious with its plot and manages to pull it off somehow, that you can't help but be impressed. I've read lots of novels but rarely have I read a story that switches back and forth through different periods,  fleshing out a dizzying number of characters and commenting on such a diverse range of themes and yet still hold together as a complete piece of fiction. You can call White Teeth many things but boring or simplistic it is not.  It is a tapestry of ideas, themes and commentary neatly wrapped within the form of a novel.  

Negatives

Depending on the types of books you read, White Teeth might be too ambitious and its writing style too pretentious and dense to hold your attention.  White Teeth is not Harry Potter or a Stephen King novel. It is a very complex book and rewards readers who are patient with it. 

At times, I did find that Smith was maybe too self-indulgent in telling the story and there were moments where I was amazed that she was allowed to get away with parts of the book that purely narrate the backstory of an inconsequential secondary character. Sometimes, it just felt like she wanted to show off her intelligence and knowledge and this would either needlessly slow down the story  or add nothing to it. But these moments don't happen too much, and her writing is so captivating, that I didn't even care most of the time when it did. 

I also felt that the novel ran out of steam towards its denouement. Although I liked the inspired ending, it also felt somewhat rushed, feeling like an afterthought compared to how well developed the other parts of the story had been. 

Final verdict 
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If you're an aspiring, British writer like myself, then Zadie Smith's White Teeth is essential reading. It's not even an argument. Buy it or borrow it and then read it. 

However, for those of you with no writing ambitions and just want to read an entertaining and well-written yarn, then I would still recommend White Teeth but with caution. It is a book for the patient reader. If you want a book with a fast pace, characters who make you feel happy about life and a comfortable, tidy ending then White Teeth is not the book for you. It's a book about people's lives, past and present, and how messy it always ends up being.  

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