I was too engrossed in Hilary Mantel’s The Mirror and the Light to pay much attention to Such a Fun Age when it was longlisted for the Booker Prize in 2020. When my niece passed on her copy, I read the blurb and thought it sounded interesting but then forgot all about it until recently.
When I finally got around to reading it, I discovered my niece had included a note that read “I felt there was something I was missing.” It’s taken me five years to find out what she meant by that comment and to find that we are in agreement about Reid’s debut novel.
The book started rather well.
Late one night a young woman strolls up and down the aisles of a Philadelphia grocery store. Another customer thinks there’s something not right about the sight . of a black woman in party clothes holding the hand of a small white child.
The store’s security guard is summoned to confront the woman. He doesn’t accuse her directly (he spends more time questioning the child) but his attitude makes it clear — he thinks he’s dealing with a kidnapping. A customer films the resulting altercation which is resolved only when the child’s father arrives and reveals that the woman is a babysitter who is helping out his family in an emergency.
“You know what—it’s cool,” she said. “We can just leave.”
“Now wait a minute.” The guard held out his hand. “I can’t let you leave, because a child is involved.” “But she’s my child right now.” Emira laughed again. “I’m her sitter. I’m technically her nanny…” This was a lie, but Emira wanted to imply that paperwork had been been done concerning her employment, and that it connected her to the child in question.
“Hi, sweetie.” The woman bent and pressed her hands into her knees. “Do you know where your mommy is?”
“Her mom is at home.” Emira tapped her collarbone twice as she said, “You can just talk to me.”
This encounter introduces what will become key themes within the novel — class and race relations.
Emira Tucker has taken the babysitting job just to make ends meet while she figures out what to do with her life. Her friends are already taking first steps in their chosen careers but Emira is stuck in dead end jobs that barely earn her enough to pay the rent.
Her employer is Alix Chamberlain; a wealthy blogger, influencer and the mastermind behind #LetHerSpeak, a platform that promotes female empowerment. With a book to write she just doesn’t have time to devote to a baby and a three-year-old. Enter Emira into the Chamberlain household. All goes swimmingly until that night at the grocery store.
The two women have nothing in common yet Alix decides she really, really wants to be friends with Emira. What Alix wants she normally gets but not this time. Invitations to share a glass of wine don’t lead to the kind of heart to heart or exchange of gossip that Alix desires. After the grocery store debacle, Alix becomes so determined to discover more about Emira’s life that she crosses the line between mild interest to snooping and ultimately, manipulation.
Such a Fun Age is written with considerable brio. The narrative really rattles along via alternating chapters that contrast the daily lives of Emira and Alix. Emira spends a lot of her time clubbing, drinking with her mates and worrying about how she’s going to pay her health insurance. Alix’s friends are too busy being the perfect parents to be much fun. When she’s not surreptitiously reading the text messages on her babysitter’s phone, she’s fretting about her weight and why she still hasn’t had the invite from Hilary Clinton to work on her presidential campaign.
Reid shows differing attitudes towards race, from the outright antagonism of the grocery store security guard to the well intentioned but misguided behaviour of the white people in the novel. The potential was there for a thought-provoking exploration of unconscious racism and wokeism but it never really got fully developed. every time I thought we were getting into the meat of the issue, Reid shot off in a different direction.
It was an enjoyable read, largely because I warmed to Emira. She and the toddler Briar were really the only likeable people in the novel — Alix’s privileged friends and her non-entity of a husband were just insipid. Emira’s friends had far more substance though I found their constant wise-cracking did jar after a while.
Fun to read for sure but desperately needed more depth to make it memorable.
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