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Zadie Smith

Zadie Smith has contributed numerous short stories, profiles, essays, and personal histories to The New Yorker since her story “Stuart” was published in the magazine in 1999, when she was twenty-four. Her body of work includes three essay collections, a short-story collection, and six acclaimed novels, including “White Teeth,” “On Beauty” (which was short-listed for the Man Booker Prize and won the 2006 Orange Prize for fiction), “Swing Time,” and “The Fraud,” which came out in 2023. Fiction, Smith argues, is “a medium that must always allow itself . . . the possibility of expressing intimate and inconvenient truths.” Her stories are full of those truths, whether she’s imagining an immigrant living in servitude in London, villagers held hostage by armed strangers, British tourists drifting down a lazy river, or an unrepentant Billie Holiday near the end of her life.

Selected Stories

Now More Than Ever

“I instinctively sympathize with the guilty. That’s my guilty secret.”
Illustration by Zohar Lazar

The Embassy of Cambodia

“Nobody could have expected it, or be expecting it. It’s a surprise, to us all.”
The back of a person holding a gun in one hand and the arm of another person in the other.
Headphone

Two Men Arrive in a Village

“A kind of wildness descends, a bloody chaos, into which all the formal gestures of welcome and food and threat seem instantly to dissolve.”
A floating glove opening an issue of the New York Post against a blue backdrop
Headphone

Escape from New York

“He could not get over how well he was handling the apocalypse so far.”

All Fiction

Now More Than Ever

“I instinctively sympathize with the guilty. That’s my guilty secret.”

The Lazy River

“We are on vacation, from life and from struggle both. We are ‘going with the flow.’ ”

Crazy They Call Me

“Not only is there no more Eleanora, there isn’t any Billie, either. There is only Lady Day.”

Two Men Arrive in a Village

“A kind of wildness descends, a bloody chaos, into which all the formal gestures of welcome and food and threat seem instantly to dissolve.”

Escape from New York

“He could not get over how well he was handling the apocalypse so far.”

Moonlit Landscape with Bridge

“He felt as if he were releasing the spirit of chaos into the world. But wasn’t it already here?”

Meet the President!

“Previously the boy had believed that the greatest testament to love was the guarantee—which he had had all his life—of total personal security.”

The Embassy of Cambodia

“Nobody could have expected it, or be expecting it. It’s a surprise, to us all.”

All Fiction

Now More Than Ever

“I instinctively sympathize with the guilty. That’s my guilty secret.”

The Lazy River

“We are on vacation, from life and from struggle both. We are ‘going with the flow.’ ”

Crazy They Call Me

“Not only is there no more Eleanora, there isn’t any Billie, either. There is only Lady Day.”

Two Men Arrive in a Village

“A kind of wildness descends, a bloody chaos, into which all the formal gestures of welcome and food and threat seem instantly to dissolve.”

Escape from New York

“He could not get over how well he was handling the apocalypse so far.”

Moonlit Landscape with Bridge

“He felt as if he were releasing the spirit of chaos into the world. But wasn’t it already here?”

Meet the President!

“Previously the boy had believed that the greatest testament to love was the guarantee—which he had had all his life—of total personal security.”

The Embassy of Cambodia

“Nobody could have expected it, or be expecting it. It’s a surprise, to us all.”

About the Author

A Glimpse of Zadie Smith

At twenty-three, the author has had the nerve to ignore her misgivings and produce her début novel, “White Teeth.”

Dead Man Laughing

Jokes run through a family.

About the Author

A Glimpse of Zadie Smith

At twenty-three, the author has had the nerve to ignore her misgivings and produce her début novel, “White Teeth.”

Dead Man Laughing

Jokes run through a family.

More by the Author

The Role of Words in the Campus Protests

In the campus protests over the war in Gaza, language and rhetoric are—as they have always been when it comes to Israel and Palestine—weapons of mass destruction.

The Fall of My Teen-Age Self

This particular April, I’d sworn to my mother I wasn’t smoking. Therefore: stolen cigarettes. Therefore: windowsill.

On Killing Charles Dickens

I did everything I could to avoid writing my historical novel. When I finally started “The Fraud,” one principle was clear: no Dickens.

The Genius of Toni Morrison’s Only Short Story 

In the extraordinary “Recitatif,” Morrison withholds crucial details of racial identity, making the reader the subject of her experiment.

More by the Author

The Role of Words in the Campus Protests

In the campus protests over the war in Gaza, language and rhetoric are—as they have always been when it comes to Israel and Palestine—weapons of mass destruction.

The Fall of My Teen-Age Self

This particular April, I’d sworn to my mother I wasn’t smoking. Therefore: stolen cigarettes. Therefore: windowsill.

On Killing Charles Dickens

I did everything I could to avoid writing my historical novel. When I finally started “The Fraud,” one principle was clear: no Dickens.

The Genius of Toni Morrison’s Only Short Story 

In the extraordinary “Recitatif,” Morrison withholds crucial details of racial identity, making the reader the subject of her experiment.

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