Stephen dança na igreja, com os pais e o irmão, o brilho das mãos negras levantadas em louvor; ele pode ter perdido a fé, mas se há coisa na qual ainda acredita é no ritmo. Dança com os amigos, algures numa cave, à espera da entrada enérgica da batida, do verdadeiro clímax na música eletrónica do DJ. Dança com a sua banda, criando música que fala não só das dificuldades da vida, mas também das alegrias. Dança com a sua melhor amiga, Adeline, rodopiando pela sala, cantando, mexendo-se ao ponto de quase encostarem as cabeças. Dança sozinho, em casa, ao som dos discos do pai, descobrindo partes de um homem que nunca conheceu verdadeiramente.
E se a música desaparece?
Quando o pai começa a falar de vergonha e sacrifício, quando Stephen deixa de ver a sua casa como sua, como encontrará ele espaço para si mesmo: um lugar onde possa sentir-se bem, bonito, livre?
Passado ao longo de três verões na vida de Stephen, de Londres ao Gana e de volta a Londres, Pequenos Mundos é um romance emocionante e expansivo sobre os locais e as emoções que construímos para nós mesmos, sobre os mundos em que vivemos, em que dançamos e em que amamos.
Caleb Azumah Nelson is a British-Ghanaian writer and photographer living in south-east London. His writing has been published in Litro. He was recently shortlisted for the Palm Photo Prize and the BBC National Short Story Prize 2020, and won the People's Choice prize. Open Water is his debut novel.
i adored open water, but this one fell a little flat for me — on paper (buh dum ch), it felt like it should be just as good: poetic writing, significant themes, characters coming of age.
but all of it felt stilted and effortful. open water unfolded naturally and gorgeously, while all of this felt like it took something.
this was longer than open water, yet it felt shorter, accomplished less.
it wasn't bad...just not built to stand in comparison to its predecessor.
bottom line: bummer.
-------------------- tbr review
NEW RELEASE BY THE AUTHOR OF OPEN WATER!!!! THIS IS NOT A DRILL!!!!!!!
Caleb Azumah Nelson brings us an honest exploration of the depths and heights of our realities. This is a coming of age story of Stephen, a Ghanian Londoner trying to make amends with his inner-self within a bitter world full of temptations and unknowns. A life permeated by obscurity, forces Stephen to yield and fall deep into the vastness of possibility, severing the connection to self. Solitude becomes loneliness steering him on a spiral of oppression and pain. He pivots back to his microcosmos to survive: he surrenders to the passion of melody, a judgement made on feeling - crowded with emotion, and in the midst of chaos, rediscovers love, faith and the beautiful world of tunes, chords and notes. His life comes into focus…
“Maybe this is all we need sometimes, for someone else to believe in the possibilities you see for yourself.”
C.A. Nelson weaved a wonderful mosaic of rhythm and blues suffused with a vibrating excitement between memory and present. That said, the story didn’t have the punch of his previous work (Open Water). Perhaps I was expecting something even more penetrating on immigrant struggle , ethnic diversity, or racial issues. The last section tied most of the story together but unfortunately felt hurried. The narrative although expressive, at times was crumbling and repetitive (poetic license?), and the prose seemed forced, convoluted in an maze of words that tried to dazzle but in the end missed the point.
Good but not great. 3.25/5
Many thanks to the publisher for an ARC, via NetGalley
I went into Small Worlds with some trepidation. Nelson's debut, Open Water, came out in 2021 and was a perfect match for that particular moment: a politically astute novella about a young Black man living in a world where police violence can upend life in an instant. I wasn't a fan of the prose in Open Water - it felt clumsy, like Nelson was trying too hard to sound poetic - but I was willing to forgive the over-earnestness in a debut that was relatively short and on point. My fear that Small Worlds would be more of the same proved to be correct. The forced prose is back with a vengeance. What I was willing to overlook in a debut feels less forgivable now. Small Worlds is also longer than Open Water and is less urgent. Much of the book lives in the world of angsty teenagers, which I'm just not interested in at all. The story is also propelled by a palpable heterosexual energy that can feel a bit on the nose. This certainly wasn't the worst thing I read this year and plenty of smart readers rate this highly. It just didn’t work for me. Many thanks to the US publisher, Grove Press, for making a review copy available in advance of publication.
Much like the highly praised Open Water, Caleb Azumah Nelson's second novel is lyrical and poetically ambitious: Rendered in an intense, dramatic voice, we accompany our narrator and protagonist Stephen during three summers after his high school graduation, so in a transitory phase of life. And this motif of transit(ion) is central, as we learn about the migration history of Stephen's parents and his own journey to Ghana, his brother's path to becoming a father, and Stephen's dream of striking a romantic relationship with his friend Del and becoming a musician. All narrative strands of this coming-of-age novel relate to familial trauma and experiences of racism, particularly in Great Britain.
Music is important on the plot level: Not only because Stephen and Del are musicians and music is important for just about every character, Nelson also constantly gives the events depicted a soundtrack by referring to musicians and records. The text is also structured by repeating certain sentences like a chorus. Thus, the language picks up a rhythm that is then again reflected in the idea that dancing is the only thing that can solve Stephen's problems, which sounds poetic, but is of course nonsense: Issues like police brutality, the reverberations of the slave trade, youthful disorientation and other topics the text mentions will not be danced away anytime soon. What is meant here is that Stephen shuts himself away in his own small world, a world he intends to protect, where he knows himself in music.
Now that could make for interesting concept: A young protagonist torn between his own world - a relatable position, as we all try to build a place where we can thrive with the ones we love and feel ourselves - and the world around him. But nothing here is worked through in a stringent manner, it's a text heavily reliant on moody writing and heavy-handed plot points that treat small and big tragedies alike. Let's take Stephen's attempt to go to university: He feels lonely and out of place, and it's depicted like a Shakespearean plight. So the reader wonders: Why doesn't he act and try to make friends? Why the self-pity? And plot holes abound: When Stephen is so passionate about music, why do we hardly hear that he plays the trumpet, that he works towards performing, that he hangs out with bands, etc.?
There are some really heavy parts about intergenerational trauma, marginalization, and migration in here, but when they appear at the same level of emotional intensity as a young man who is unable to tell a girl that he likes her, it takes away from the depth of the story as a whole. Stephen, who as a second-generation immigrant is confronted with all kinds of intercultural challenges, sometimes seems like a teenager when he, who has the time and space to explore his place in the world, sounds overly dramatic about minutiae. I see that Nelson intended to show Stephen's perspective as a young person who tries to find their place in the world as a Black man in London, but the result does not quite come together: Too often, the world happens to Stephen although he would have agency, but he remains passive, and it's unclear why.
So unfortunately, I have to admit that during large parts of this very wordy text, I was rather bored, because nothing much happens, and nothing surprising happens either. I felt crushed by the over-the-top poetic language and wished for more depth: Just because the music is loud, doesn't mean it's automatically deep or particularly good.
Je suis une fois de plus sous le charme de l’incroyable écriture de Caleb Azumah Nelson. Les mots sont d’une justesse, ça résonne énormément en moi. Sa façon de parler de la famille, d’amour, de trouver sa place, de faire partie d’une communauté etc. Il m’inspire énormément, c’est l’un de mes plus gros coups de cœur littéraires des dernières années cet auteur. C’est un privilège de pouvoir lire ces mots et qu’il nous partage cette vulnérabilité, je me sens chanceuse de les découvrir. Il y a vraiment des phrases qui se détachent du livre pour rentrer en moi, c’est un sentiment très étrange et réparateur en même temps. J’ai l’impression de retrouver beaucoup de mon vécu et des choses qui font sens. Le nombre de larmes versées… Bref, forcément je vous le recommande, pas de grande surprise. Déjà hâte de le relire (et de le faire dédicacer on espère).
British literary fiction slop, I fear. The characters are dull and on the nose. Every beat of the story is expected and not even exceptionally written. The books falls into the trap of explaining what it's like to be black for an expected white reader instead pulling you into the world of these black characters. It's poetic to a fault and over descriptive to fill in parts where the book has nothing interesting to say. This books worst offense is being very boring. Competent but boring.
As beings who enjoy the art of storytelling, there will be times when we 'stumble' across a new author who's not only brilliant but may rival the most successful in publishing including Pulitzer winners. Born in Ghana, Mr Nelson is a UK transplant, his debut novel, Open Water the winner of countless awards After reading his latest, it comes as little surprise.
Driven by themes of love, family, compassion and Joy, this is an extraordinary 'coming of age' story packaged in an unusual plot, its characters deep and loving. We meet Stephen, a teenage horn player whose passion for music runs deep, his love for family yet deeper. Immigrants from Ghana the family dwells in a London district called Peckham. He lives at home with his older brother Ray, Mum and Dad, his Aunt Yaa, a loving guide and 'employer' and leans on his brother and father's best friend, Uncle T whose stories are illuminating and enlightening.
Among the players in the band is Del, a lovely and emotionally mature bass player. Together, Del and Stephen equate with the classic 'two peas in a pod' and over time, friendship grows as does mutual love and affection. Both seniors in high school, 'uni' awaits and Stephen decides to major in music. Over the summer, his job at Aunt Yaa's shop dissolves when the landlord triples her rent. Distraught yet hopeful, Ray delivers Stephen to campus which soon becomes a love/hate experience. Returning home after dropping out of college, he battles with his father and moves out.
Amidst the first/third person POV's, is an undercurrent of wonder, contemplation and hope that has the reader understand the story is spiritual, personal and evocative. Unlike most written by black authors, Caleb diminishes the drone of racism, replacing it with Stephen's maturing, love interests and uncertainty about the future. That said, there are 'George Floyd' instances sprinkled, along with stories from a trip to Ghana. Stephen refers to 'small world' equating it with the unique stories and challenges of those around him.
On one such occasion, Stephen describes a heart lurching experience at the Cape Coast castle in Ghana told by their guide Thomas, a place where West Africans were held captive by slave traders "...He was trying to fight the inability to speak with his desire to. I think this happens often to many of us, this language we have less of a tool than burden, caught between somewhere, something lost between expression and emotion. Sometimes silence in the face of trauma is useful..."
I'll be honest saying its difficult to summarize a story that touches the reader as deeply as this; put simply the writing is brilliant, compassionate and moving.
If you're the sort that enjoys literary fiction at its BEST, I recommend you move this to the TOP of your list. I'll be reading his debut novel next with hopes for more in the near future. Caleb is one of those rare, highly talented authors whose future shines bright!
I want to like Caleb Azumah Nelson because he's a fairly young British writer and because I read that he used to work in an Apple store and now he's made it as a writer, but I just don't think he's good. Where I forgave Open Water for its forced lines, its maudlin prose and a certain jejuneness, Small Worlds simply continues in that vein, perhaps even heightens it. I thought his next book would feel different and read more mature, but sadly it doesn't. So, before I say what I didn't like about this book, I will say, if Open Water struck a chord for you then this will probably do the same thing. So there's that. But for me, it was all the same problems. Nelson tries to end every paragraph with some over-the-top 'poetic' line that always falls flat; he repeats lines throughout the book as if they have some sort of power but I found them to be much the same as the other trying-too-hard lines and their insistent repetitions throughout the novel only made that worse; he uses the title, the concept of us having 'small worlds' within us, around us, with those we love, frequently too, and again, it felt forced and a little pseudo-philosophical. The father/son relationship felt rushed. The romantic relationship didn't feel wholly different to what we've seen in Open Water . . . It seems like Nelson is just trying to hit the same note as his successful debut, but sadly that shows no growth. Frankly I just couldn't bring myself to care about a single thing in the book. That said, when it's published in May, I have no doubt it'll do fairly well and get good reviews from the masses. So I'll just continue grumbling under my breath in the corner of the party like some Bernhard narrator. Thanks to Penguin/Grove Press for the advance copy.
Small worlds follows Stephen as he journeys through summers in London and Ghana, relationships blossoming and unravelling, faith, trauma, grief and rhythm. This novel was one that I adored for so many reasons. A love story that expands beyond two people, the familial exploration of trauma and expectation and the art of dance and music as a reflection of the rhythm of life, loss and emotion. Words simply do not suffice for the rawness of Small Worlds and the exploration of how we find pleasure and joy in the simplicity of our own tiny universes and how at times that is, and isn't enough for us.
As well as these themes, racism and discrimination in the UK was a big factor of the novel. Introducing such imperative discussions and how it paired with Stephen's personal and familial trauma was so important. It's undoubtedly a novel that will spark so much emotion for all readers, and make us reflect about the space we all hold within our own 'Small Worlds' and society.
Another exhilarating novel from Caleb Azumah Nelson, whose writing is as astonishing as it is heartbreaking - I cannot express how much I believe that everybody should read this.
Having read and LOVED Open Water I was a little nervous picking up Small Worlds because I had really high expectations and I didnt want to be disappointed.
Small Worlds is a brilliant book, I enjoyed it way more than Open Water. It is not often we read a book that centers on father-son relationships and I think the th author did a phenomenal job of showcasing that. Of course, he writes beautifully, I was blown away by the writing and I think you will do.
3.5, rounded downwards. I enjoyed this slightly less than Nelson's debut novel Open Water, from which Small Worlds felt like a natural progression. It's clear that he's growing as a novelist while maintaining the core features of what worked so well for him last time, but he threw in too many discordant elements this time, signaling his wider and deeper ambitions.
We follow our first-person narrator Stephen, the son of working-class Ghanaian immigrants to Peckham through three climactic years from his late teens into his early 20s: a love story with a childhood friend, his alienation from a disapproving father, his untimely experiences with grief, his return visit to family in Accra, searching for the unspoken parts of his parents' love story. While Open Water felt more raw, loose, and improvisatory, Nelson has masterfully structured and paced the narrative, braiding themes and variations, setting the life experiences of Stephen and his striving parents in counterpoint-- especially in a moving and heartbreaking penultimate chapter told from their perspective.
On the plus side, this was another amazing multimedia reading experience. After cueing up the official Spotify playlist of early 2000s hip-hop and old-school R&B, I was convinced by Nelson's refrain that life's problems can be solved by dancing. And Nelson makes a persuasive case for the life-giving potential of art: Stephen's love for playing jazz trumpet sustains him through setbacks, and his mastery of West African cooking in a restaurant sous-chef gig provides a way of finding the core of his identity.
But on a sentence-by-sentence and page-by-page level, this felt a bit unfinished and forced, with some clunkily melodramatic dialogue. Some of this was the consequence of viewing the experiences of a protagonist whose own emotions were messy and raw as he was uncertainly navigating his way into adulthood. But some of the emotional beats felt histrionic and unearned, and the connections to contemporary history (the murder of Mark Duggan and the riots) seemed awkwardly bolted on. And since Stephen is reporting the life-stories of the other characters (especially Del, his childhood friend and love interest) through second-hand explanations, they seemed flat and lacking in interiority.
After this, I would still look forward to reading anything that Nelson will write, and this gave me entry into a world I would like to revisit. Especially the deep cuts by J Dilla...
Thanks to Netgalley and Grove Atlantic for giving me an ARC, in return for an honest and unbiased review.
This book felt like the physical equivalent of dropping your shoulders and unclenching your jaw.
Open water is my favorite book, I thought Caleb Azumah Nelson would become one of my favorite authors, but it was his debut novel, so I wasn’t sure. I am sure now. I thought right.
The stories of the characters in both his books are ones that deserve to be read, seen, heard by anyone and everyone. They have to be.
“As we were playing, my fingers slipped, an odd note coming from my horn. The mistake didn’t go unnoticed, but we continued on. It made me grateful for the freedom to be in that space, to make a mistake; and how that mistake might be beautiful to the right ear; how Del heard that odd note and followed with her own, adjusting her thrum; how the rest of us followed that twist and shift, surrendering to whatever unknown we were going towards. It was there that I noticed I only really knew myself in song. In the quiet, in the freedom, in the surrender.” .
Caleb’s prose here is soft and lyrical. Certain sentences are repeated, like the chorus of a song. There’s a very beautiful rhythmic sense to the writing, and it all comes together like music, which is much of the focus, passion, and love that often drives Stephen. It’s enchanting. At moments I found myself humming to songs mentioned that I was familiar with as I read along, and was swept up in the feeling of being so aware and present in a moment in time, like Stephen also felt. Similar to Open Water (another banger, pick it up, NEEEOOOWWW) Nelson also weaves in topics of race and assimilation, the immigrant experience, the limbo of belonging, the gut-wrench of opportunities just out of reach, the loss of something built, the weight of self discovery...and more.
The pace of this book is slow (that ain’t no problem) and the impact of the words are undeniable. I have a lot of thoughts I’m still parsing through but basically, I think I just like the way Nelson’s writing makes me feel, even when my heart is breaking. Like….ouch????
Be sure to give this one a read, friends. Congrats to Caleb Azumah Nelson on another great release, and thanks to Grove Atlantic for my copy!
“In the wake of violence, acute or prolonged, we ask what we might need, how we might weather this time, how we might care for each other, how we might cultivate the space which encourages honesty, which encourages surrender. How we might build a small world, where we might feel beautiful, might feel free.” This follows a young Ghanian man in London (Stephen) over three summers: 2010, 2011,2012. He is eighteen in 2010 and just finishing school. We follow Stephen over the three summers and move between Ghana and London. The themes include family, music and dancing (especially music and dancing), food (you could learn how to make jollof from this), loss, love (particularly first love), racism, fathers and sons. Music is the thread running through it all from the intensity of Church worship to a different intensity of the nightclub mosh-pit (perhaps not so different. Jazz and playing music live; Stephen plays a trumpet, often with a group of friends: “I’ve only ever known myself in song, between notes, in that place where language won’t suffice but the drums might, might speak for us, might speak for what is on our hearts.” The whole is beautifully observed and the title relates to the spaces that Stephen occupies. These can be geographical, emotional, family spaces and so on. There are good descriptions of returns to Ghana and the growing distance between family in Ghana and family in London and how that distance grew between each return. Racism is in the background and the death of Mark Duggan at the hands of the police is referred to several times. Nelson shows how a life can contain both hardship and beauty. There is poetry in this, even in the description of the mundane. For me, it does manage to avoid becoming sentimental and isn’t prescriptive. The characters feel like people you might know. I liked the atmospheric nature of this and Nelson creates his Small Worlds rather well. “I want to build a place where there’s a sense of freedom which isn’t attached to anything else, that doesn’t come as part of a transaction. There would be no catch. Just a place for people to eat and drink, to plot and breathe. To be. A place we could call home.”
Książka o tym specyficznym momencie w życiu, w którym nie jesteś już dzieckiem, ale jeszcze nie czujesz się dorosły. O wspomnieniach, relacjach i poszukiwaniach swojego miejsca w świecie przepełnionym samotnością. Pięknie napisane, chociaż jestem w stanie zrozumieć osoby, które czuły się znużone i nie trafia do nich budowa bohaterów- ja zanurzyłem się w słowach autora płynących niczym rytm muzyki.
"having known her for so long I know the way light hold her neck, know her rhythm even when she's still"
'Small Worlds' follows Stephen through finishing school, prom, results, Summer, uni, jobs, and dealing with family and loss; all while existing as a Black man in Britain.
This is one of those rare books where you know from the first page it's a five star.
'Small Worlds' shows the beauty of the space people hold in the world, and the space we make for them in ours. It explores family love, parental love, brotherly love, romantic love; ultimately, the love of knowing and being known. The what-ifs, maybes, change, regrets, and stumbling through life in your youth. Caleb shows us the joy of music; the sense of self found in a rhythm. But also sadness, parental expectations and disappointment, the tiredness you feel in your soul, death, grief, and all-consuming loneliness. We see what it means to be Black in this country, to live with that underlying fear everyday; the collective grief and trauma, but also belonging.
The writing is so beautiful it makes your heart ache. I feel I know every character intimately, no matter how brief they're time on the page. I savoured every word, and truly didn't want it to end.
Rozminęłam się z tą historią, ale być może jest to kwestia mojego zastoju czytelniczego. Pod względem literackim czaruje, z kolei konstrukcja bohaterów to dla mnie niewykorzystany potencjał na świetne portery psychologiczne.
SMALL WORLDS was one of my most anticipated reads of 2023. I loved Nelson’s debut OPEN WATER, a book that spoke to me and struck a nerve during a particularly calamitous cultural moment for Black men. I was deeply shaken, but also enamored with the lyrical writing style, the right balance of romantic and frank. So, I went all in with his new one, hoping for that familiar rush.
And, well, I liked it, I guess, but I wasn’t in love. Nelson did showcase more of his potent nature, but there was also disappointing filler. So, you can say I am in two worlds when it comes to this one.
Stephen, our narrator, has just graduated high-school. He lives with his religious parents and his carefree older brother. He’s in love with his best friend Adeline “Del,” taking his time to make a move. Both are aspiring jazz musicians, who spend their days listening to various genres of Black music (someone compiled a kickass Spotify playlist of every music reference made in the book). For the duration of the novel, we follow Stephen’s somewhat-aimless journey to adulthood. And through that, we also learn about his roots, which includes his parents’ journey and social struggle from Ghana to England.
Now here’s the thing, this book did not cohesively come together for me. In a nutshell, there are two main plots: 1) Stephen’s romance with Del 2) Stephen’s relationship to his parents and their immigrant story. The sad thing is that one story is more successful (and interesting) than the other. And the writing for these two was like night and day.
I’ll be blunt: The romance story was mostly a dud. I’ve never come across this feeling when it comes to a litfic book before, but it felt like Stephen and Del had no chemistry. Whereas everything related to Stephen’s parents was written with eloquent and vivid imagery, all the stuff with Del felt flatter than a pancake left out in the sun. Perhaps this jittery writing was Nelson’s attempt at trying to convey the lyricism of falling in love, but where he was going for stimulating, I got stilted instead. I’m not being a hater on romance; there’s an interlude where Stephen starts dating another woman, and those sections were written with such vigor and aching, therefore the lackluster effect really has something to do with Stephen and Del’s romance. I just didn’t care and the writing dipped, coming off as generic or straight-up phony, like Nelson wasn’t all that invested himself.
However, the sections with Stephen’s parents and family were on point at all times. Whether it’s the fraught relationship between Stephen and his father; the dynamics and backstory of his parents; the strong bond between he and his brother; Stephen’s connection to his parents’ homeland of Ghana; or Stephen’s building alienation with his London community. The writing shone. Elegant, blistering, deeply thought-provoking sentences and observations. A supersized chapter that chronicles his parents’ backstory was definitely the highlight for me.
I heard that Nelson wrote this novel in the space of three months. And while that’s super-impressive, it might also prove that it needed more work.
To put it plainly, I wish Nelson trimmed the fat. The romance with Del should’ve either been relegated to the background or erased entirely. I’m convinced that all of the Del’s sections were written at a particular period of time, and the family sections were written at another. He should’ve stuck to parents one. The fact that the second half of the novel is focused more on Stephen’s parents and their impact on his life is what saved the novel in the end. Plus I did enjoy the repetitive nature of the text, which gave the novel a musical song structure feel, like he kept looping us back to the chorus. That was really effective in lulling me into a rhythm. This can also tie into the book’s title: The world being infinitely small that characters and their actions begin to mirror one another. History has a way of repeating itself.
So, once again, I’ll say I liked it, but that doesn’t stop me from asking from time to time: Oh, what could’ve been?
This book is so much more than words on paper, it's rhythm, it's vibes, it's pure and raw emotions that transcend the pages it is written on. I felt every bit, small or big, of connection, sorrow, and joy that Caleb Azumah Nelson emoted through this story. Small Worlds has some of the most beautiful and lyrical prose I have ever read. The story takes us on a journey through Stephen's life, a young British man who is the son of Ghanian immigrants. It examines father and son relationships, grief, love, racism, and trying to find your place in the world. If "Song Cry" by Jay-Z was a book it would be Small Worlds. And yes, I did shed some tears while reading this book. Honestly, nothing I could say can do this book justice, so just read it for yourself.
I also, strongly recommend listening to the audiobook while reading along. Caleb Azumah Nelson narrates the book himself, and I just love it when an author narrates their own book. It is quite possibly the best audiobook narration I have ever listened to. Caleb Azumah Nelson absolutely nailed it. It was absolutely stunning.
Thank you netgalley, Grove Atlantic, and Caleb Azumah Nelson for the eARC.
“Adorei a principal reflexão deste livro, toda a ideia subjacente de irmos construindo “pequenos mundos” nas nossas vidas, seja pelo contexto ou pelas pessoas com quem estamos — e essas bolhas são ecossistemas importantíssimos na forma como encaramos a vida. Também apreciei bastante a maneira como o autor desenvolveu a relação de Stephen com a família, principalmente com o pai, e emocionei-me muito nas páginas finais.”
My first Caleb Azumah Nelson book, and I'm blown away by the prose. Wow. I knew it would be good, but THIS GOOD?
Every word is like a song, so if you can imagine a book that's like a whole album full of them, it would be this.
There are actual songs inside too, they show up often, as does dancing. I'm a dancer and when a book starts with dancing and has it as a central theme throughout...well, I'm sold.
But it's not always sunshine and rainbows, there's also grief. As someone's who's lost a parent young, I could relate all too well.
Honestly though, the whole book is relatable, because Nelson knows how to write. Even the London and Accra settings were so vivid that I felt like I was there myself. I haven't been to Accra yet, but boy, do I want to.
As for London I have relatives there (coincidentally the south-east) and that was where I spent my summers so those parts scratched a specific itch in my brain.
The only teeny tiny flaw is that I wish more things happened. And I wish it could've been even longer so I could enjoy this wonderful writer explore even more themes that would break my heart and put it back together again.
ALSO, I can't wait for the TV series, I know it's going to be amazing. But in the meantime, everyone go and get yourself a copy of this book, that I just finished and immediately want to reread. Yes, it's one of those. Now run, don't walk.
*Thank you to the publishers and NetGalley for providing me with an e-ARC in exchange for an honest review*
Thank you to Grove Atlantic and NetGalley for providing this ARC in exchange for my honest opinion. I couldn't be more grateful that I got to be one of the first reviewers.
I'm gonna start out strong and say that reading Open Water convinced me that Caleb Azumah Nelson is one of the greatest writers alive. Small Worlds cemented that.
The book, set across three summers, follows Stephen as he finds himself faced with big life changes. This is a story about growing pains, family, love, friendship, dance and music.
When I say music, I don't mean just the literal playlist (love the Open Water one), or the way Nelson can translate into text the music his characters are listening to or creating, but the actual lyricism of his prose. It's breathtaking and melodic, repeats the theme in just the right places and made me choke up multiple times throughout the book. I've read some prose that thinks itself musical, but nothing like this. If writing is a craft this is a master at work.
Stephen's world was such a joy to be immersed into. The drifting apart and finding the way back, the journey from London to Ghana and back again, the parallels, oh my God, the parallels. I had to put my kindle down multiple times because I was too emotional. I don't remember the last time that happened. The father storyline broke me into a million pieces and built me back up. This was, hands down, my favorite read of the year. It had me making a pinterest board for the first time in my life.
I truly have no complaints. The characters, the pacing, the story, the music, the writing, the ending. The couple typos that inevitably popped up due to it being an advanced copy just made the story feel more intimate overall. I don't know how it could get better but I'll be there to check when this book comes out, and to supplement this review with a million quotes and excerpts. Thank you for reading and go preorder this book.
Reading an author that is trying to fit some weighty poeticism into each sentence is kind of like listening to someone talk that has spinach stuck between their teeth. Deep does not equal good, which I think a lot of authors in their 20s fall victim to, and I think the job of deciding the feeling is on the reader and never the writer. And imo the best writers know this and leave some breathing space between for the reader to wonder and the characters to really exist. Because that’s where I think characters actually come alive, which is within what is carefully chosen not to be said. It’s kind of like when soppy strings play up in a movie, and I want to be like, hey! you don’t get to tell me how to feel!!! emotion is earned, not cued!! Its a prose that feels like a gymnastic routine of only flips. Anyways, this is less about small worlds, which I’m using as an example and which I appreciated the dual father-son perspective in and the mixed media aspect (playlist!!!) and more about a trend I’ve seen in general
This book was a pleasant surprise, I listened to the audiobook, it was interesting for me as I grew up in South London and know most of the areas that he was talking about.
The author narrates the book and it reminded me of some aspects of my life. I grew up in a Caribbean family and as kids we all went to church.
In this case the main character Stephen grows up in a Ghanaian family. He loves music and has lots of dreams like most of us as we start to figure out what we want in life. He also has a band playing music at parties etc.
A lot of his memories seem to have different songs attached.
What Stephen is portraying evolves over three summers. It is about what happens in his life from the U.K. to Ghana. We learn about some of the Ghanaian lifestyle and culture and his experiences throughout that time. We see how his dreams match up with the reality of life.
I really enjoyed this book and even the narration at times felt lyrical as he talks us through Stephen’s journey.
I honestly think Nelson is one of the most profound writers we have right now, everything that comes out of his mouth is just pure poetry. His writing just sways across the page - it’s so tender and beautiful. He has a real talent of placing you directly in a moment, and painting such a vivid picture and evoking such strong emotions in a few simple lines. His writing manages to feel so alive, but he also very skillfully keeps it quite simple, accessible and succinct.
This one took a minute to get into for me and to find my feet, but after that point I read it in about three sittings. It was quite a low and slow burner, and because it takes a very character focused approach you could argue it’s quite mundane. But one thing he’s really good at is making the mundane feel magical. I think that was the exact vibe he was trying to capture with this book, and he really excelled at that aspect. It’s just one of those narratives that makes you reevaluate your own existence and makes you grateful for the little things. It was at times quite melancholic, but really just quite nice and quietly hopeful.
One of the highlights of this one were the connections and dynamics he managed to gently weave between the characters. They were very tender, especially the familial relationships and Stephen's connection to his community. I do to an extent wish that the complexity of the different relationships was spoken about a bit more vocally and there were more developments there, it did feel a tad stunted at times. Especially with the romantic elements, I felt like they sometimes lagged behind and I wasn’t entirely clear on what the characters wanted or were truly feeling. I struggled fully leaning into the relationship between Del and Stephen because it starts before the book even begins, and we’re just thrown into a relationship I wasn’t fully sold on yet.
I really liked this one, but for me it pales in comparison to Open Water. I think because there was a very minimal plot holding it all together, we kind of just float in orbit with this book for a while which made me struggle with being able to fully immerse myself in it. Still definitely worth a read, but not the five star I was anticipating.
The best thing about this book is its lush prose and musicality. What a privilege it was to read it and follow Stephen growth and emotional journey, to feel you have been given access to his mind.
“I’ve only know myself in song, between notes, in that place where language won't suffice but the drums might, might speak for us, might speak for what is on our hearts, and in this moment, as the music gahers pace, looping round once more, passing frenzy, approaching ecstasy, all my dance moves are my father's”
Reading this felt like a gift because I’ve felt so many of Stephen feelings before, and I’ve been where he has been and would never be able to put it into words. Stephen might only know himself in song, but Caleb certainly knows in words.
“I didn’t feel like myself there. I didn’t like this me, who was insecure, and rarely at ease; who felt like he was living in a city with no community to lean on, no one to just spend some time with; who not knowing how to dismantle his loneliness, cocooned, retreated.”
”I want him to be more open, to allow me the space to say, I feel broken, and I’m slowly taking myself apart, so I might build myself up once more"
This was a very emotional book about family, community, love, friendship, grief, and life. It also touches racism and the importance of our past and roots to better understand ourselves.
Thank you Grove Atlantic and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.
I want to live in Caleb Azumah Nelson's storytelling, where love and pain coexist in excruciatingly beautiful ways, where things can be heartbreaking and hopeful in equal measure, where human flaws and trauma are portrayed both honestly and compassionately, with grace and without judgement.
my eyes are swollen, my heart is aching, and I’m already desperately yearning for the next book he writes
I was surprised to be emotional at the end of this story. I loved how it tied together the angst of becoming and the sacrifices our parents have made in their lives so that we may live ours. This was also a great reminder of how our parents were once young too with their own wild and daring dreams. Such a sweet and sincere narrative.