Tonight:
4°c
Arguments over the consequences of immigration are furious and frequent. Its proponents say that it has made this city richer and more interesting.
Its opponents say it makes people hate each other and allows foreigners to sponge off locals. But reading Amanda Craig's brilliant new novel, Hearts and Minds — a murder story told through the intertwined lives of recent immigrants — I realised that it has another, less-noticed, result: it fertilises literature.
London has had two great literary flowerings, and immigration has been central to both. During the first, in the mid-19th century, London was home to some of the greatest novelists ever: Thackeray, Eliot, Trollope. But it was Dickens who best captured the spirit of the age. He wrote about the shock to society — the expectations, the disappointment, the wealth, the poverty, the disease and the debt — caused by the flood of country people who came to the city to man the industrial revolution.
For 100 years or so, London disappeared as a subject for novelists; then, towards the end of the 20th century, it re-emerged. Some of the writing, like Martin Amis's, is social satire: by insiders for insiders. But more interesting to me is the writing by and about outsiders: the Indians, Pakistanis, Chinese, Africans, East Europeans recounting the experience of coming to London, and the Londoners trying to understand what immigration has done to their city.
Maybe this literature is so rich because the painful business of being an outsider spurs people to write. VS Naipaul, our greatest outsider-writer, touched on this when recalling his early days in London, as a new immigrant from Trinidad, in a bed and breakfast on the Gloucester Road. It was shabby and depressing, and he tried to escape it by writing about more glamorous lives. It didn't work. It was only when he realised that he and the dingy people around him were part of a remarkable story — the colonials colonising Britain, and seeing the declining imperial power in sharper focus than the locals — that he started writing about his own experience and his career took off.
Few of Naipaul's generation of immigrants wrote about their experiences. Perhaps, in the days of the National Front, they thought it wiser to keep their heads down. Perhaps they were overwhelmed by the practical and emotional difficulties involved in uprooting. But the second generation is astonishingly prolific, especially on the subject of London: among them Zadie Smith (White Teeth); Monica Ali (Brick Lane); Hanif Kureshi (The Buddha of Suburbia); Gautam Malkani (Londonstani); Andrea Levy (Small Island).
There's a handful of brilliant third-generation writers, too, such as Xiaolu Guo (A Concise Chinese-English Dictionary for Lovers).
Indigenous writers, meanwhile, have also been recording the transformation of their city. The wonderful Colin MacInnes (Absolute Beginners; City of Spades) who spotted the importance of the West Indians' arrival as early as the 1960s, was the first, and Rose Tremain (The Road Home) and Ms Craig are among his worthy successors.
London has never seen anything like it — either the immigration or the literary flowering. This period will be remembered long after the political tensions around immigration are a distant memory and the BNP has turned to dust. We are living in a remarkable time, whether we like it or not.
I suppose you have to admire Paxman's probity
"Watching TV,” said Jeremy Paxman at the Hay Festival, “is the most popular leisure activity in Britain. I find that very depressing.” I'm not sure what to think of this.
On the one hand, he sounds like a drug-pusher decrying levels of addiction among teenagers, or a tobacco-company boss deploring lung-cancer rates. On the other hand, his honesty is refreshing.
We could do with more of it. Part of the reason everybody's so furious with the politicians is that they are normally so sanctimoniously self-important about their commitment to making the world a better place. If we'd known all along they were a dodgy lot with their snouts in the trough, at least we wouldn't be feeling quite so let down.
Save me from the fairweather cyclists
As a cyclist, the only thing I don't like about summer is the proliferation of cyclists. In winter, we are a small, hardy band, struggling against the elements and the traffic.
But in summer, when the fairweather cyclists turn up, the balance of power on the roads shifts.
Suddenly there are herds of us jumping the lights, running over the toes of pedestrians, weaving between the cars and forcing drivers to slam on their brakes. We are transformed from a beleaguered minority into a threatening majority that I'm no longer proud to be part of.
Still, it's nothing that a quick blast of rain can't sort out; and I'm sure one of those will be on its way soon.
It's good to know that Gordon Brown is on the case. Never mind that we're in the middle of the biggest economic crisis since the Depression, or that British democracy is at its lowest point in living memory. The Prime Minister found time to address a far more important issue: Susan Boyle's health.
PM's worrying concern for Susan Boyle
It's good to know that Gordon Brown is on the case. Never mind that we're in the middle of the biggest economic crisis since the Depression, or that British democracy is at its lowest point in living memory. The Prime Minister found time to address a far more important issue: Susan Boyle's health.
After she was admitted to hospital following her defeat in Britain's Got Talent, we are told, he rang both Piers Morgan and Simon Cowell to enquire about her mental wellbeing. If he thinks that's the sort of thing the leader of a large and troubled country should spend his time doing, I'm rather worried about him.
Emma Duncan is deputy editor of The Economist.
Reader views (4)
Yes my eyes misted up with thanks at the literary joy that migrants have brought to our fair city when I was set upon by a gang of Somalians 4 years ago and was beaten to a pulp. What grace in their words, what lyrical dexterity in their insults as they kicked me in the head whilst I lay on the ground.
Hmmmm.....
- Paul, London England, 03/06/2009 10:12
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What about "The Will To Freedom: An Inside View Of Tamil Resistance" by war criminal Adele Balasingham?
- Ariya, Colombo, Sri Lanka, 02/06/2009 16:34
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"Third generation writers"...
You're missing the fundamental point about this city: a "third generation writer" isn't - he's just a British writer, even if he's got a funny name.
- Tv, Hounslow, UK, 02/06/2009 14:34
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Susan Boyle has a wonderfull voice - but she now dwells in the land of celebrity, where every woman is deemed "worth it" - and in that size zero world of silicon plasication and botoxed fixed startled expression, inner beauty is never enough.
This outcome was, sadly, inevitable - as politicians and sports "stars" often demonstrate, it`s not what you do but how you look when you`re doing it that`s important.
Why else do you think Tony Blair was so popular with the women voters back in `97 ?
- Darius Midwinter, London UK, 02/06/2009 11:03
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