Soap opera material - Rated 
I was disappointed with this book because it fell well short of my expectations, which were originally raised because of the reputation of the author. The plot revolves around two families, where the fathers are academics at loggerheads with each other, and it describes how the lives of all the family members become increasingly entwined. One problem was that in pursuing the plot the events became incredibly contrived, with almost desperate attempts made to interweave the stories of the two families. Ultimately it was simply unbelievable. I also found the characters in general to be surprisingly shallow and undeveloped; for Zora I just kept seeing Lisa from the Simpsons. However, the one bright spot was the relationship between Howard and Kiki, where some definite semblance of reality and passion emerged from the writing. Overall though I felt the book would be well suited to adaptation to a soap series, with half-hour scenes parodying real-life rather than reflecting it. I read the book on a beach holiday and it is good company if you want some easy reading, but for more depth look elsewhere.
Overhyped beyond belief! - Rated 
although zadie smith is a very fine technical and intellectual writer, this really was a poor end result. unsympathetic characters, a jumbled plot, and hiding behind EM Forster, really add up to an un-enjoyable book.
I loved it - Rated 
I thought this was a great book. I read it a year or two ago, and it remains one of my favourites. Amongst other things, I loved the devastating demolition of postmodernist aesthetic Theory. I guess that is an easy target, but even so, it was beautifully done. An even easier target, should she want one for her next book, would be customer reviews on Amazon.
BORING - Rated
I struggled with this book and only managed one and a half chapters. It bored me and I couldnt connect with the characters. I think this book was undeservedly hyped up!
[ Haiti ] this wretched, blood-stained little island a mere hour's boat trip from Florida... - Rated
Henri Bergson wrote that laughter (unconsciously and sometimes immorally) pursues a utilitarian aim of general improvement. That is, laughter performs a social function, and for the greater good. I was thinking of this when I noticed some adverse comment around the following sentence,
"For Monty, though, Carlene wanted to get something `really nice', and so they decided to brave three blocks of snow-walking in order to reach a fancier, smaller, specialist boutique that might have the cane with the carved handle which that Carlene had in mind." (p.266, hardback)
I can do two things here. First, to correct the grammar. Second, to speculate why the original text as printed is, in fact, intentional on Zadie Smith's part
GRAMMAR
There is much debate over the correct usage of the pronouns `that' and `which' in relative clauses. Nevertheless, as a general rule for formal English, where a clause is restrictive (ie, the semantics of the sentence are affected by removing the clause), `that' should be used. And, where a clause is non-restrictive (ie, the semantics of the sentence are not affected by removing the clause), `which' should be used and the clause introduced by a comma
In the text quoted above, there are two significant relative clauses - i) "[ in order to reach a ] specialist boutique that might have the cane with the carved handle", and ii) "the carved handle which that Carlene had in mind". In case i), `that' is the appropriate pronoun where the speciality of the boutique is indeed canes with carved handles. However, later in the text, it is revealed that the boutique sells canes, and monogrammed handkerchiefs, and dreadful cravats. Therefore, the speciality of the boutique is not canes with carved handles but a range of high value goods to which (presumably) the boutique adds its particular cachet - like Liberty on Regent Street, for example. Following this rule, the semantics of the sentence are not changed by removing the relative clause - Carlene and Kiki brave three blocks of snow-walking in order to reach a fancier, smaller, specialist boutique. Therefore, the relative clause is non-restrictive and the appropriate pronoun is `which' preceded by a comma. By the by, this resolves also a problem I have with usage of `that' with modal auxiliaries that express doubt (might, may, could, should, etc), although I may be out on a limb here
In case ii), Zadie Smith has deployed both relative pronouns serially leaving the reader (or her editor) to choose. In this case, it is only by qualifying "the cane with the carved handle" with the fact that the cane with the carved handle is what Carlene has in mind that the statement makes sense. The cane with the carved handle has not been mentioned earlier in the text and needs specification at this point. Therefore, this is a restrictive clause and the appropriate pronoun is `that'
To satisfy the norms of formal English, the text should read as follows,
"... and so they decided to brave three blocks of snow-walking in order to reach a fancier, smaller, specialist boutique, which might have the cane with the carved handle that Carlene had in mind."
But, it doesn't. And there's a reason for that
INTENTIONALITY
Here, I speculate Zadie Smith's intention in delivering the quoted sentence as it is, and resisting any attempt by her editors to change it. There are two clues. First, earlier in the novel, the earnest lexophile Jack French's particular attachment to Henry Watson Fowler has been described. It is Fowler, in his Dictionary of Modern English Usage (1926), who first legitimises the interchangeability of `that' and `which' (without comma) in restrictive relative clauses. Thus, creating the confusion that persists down to Zadie Smith's own generation - a confusion that Zadie Smith artfully satirises by getting the grammar as wrong as it could possibly be. The second clue is delivered with the delicate insertion of the word "cravat" (rather than tie) when describing Carlene's purchases - "... and then the most dreadful cravat" (p.268, hardback). The word cravat is of French derivation (as in Jack French, a repeated joke throughout the novel) but, much more interestingly, services a multi-layered paronomasia which (I think) reveals the depth and complexity of Zadie Smith's genius as a writer and thinker
It works like this. The mingling of terms from multiple languages (eg, cravat for tie, French and Jack French) and, indeed, the mangling of formal language (eg, "the cane with the carved handle which that Carlene had in mind") to produce comic effect is termed traditionally macaronic (from macaroni, probably from same root as maceration). And, Macaronis was the term used to identify the generation of mid-eighteenth century young dandies who returned from the Grand Tour with a macaronic grab-bag of Continental affectations. One of which, indeed, was the small cravat - the forerunner of the modern tie
Thus it is that, with extraordinary deftness, Zadie Smith fashions a web of satiric filaments that ensnare the unwary reader just as they coruscate, startle and amaze. And it is through this interweaving of semantic and syntactic games that she achieves the rupture of what Henri Bergson termed mechanical inelasticity - that is, the thing that makes us less human, and against which laughter offers a social sanction
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