Universality (eBook)

Natasha Brown (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2025 | 1. Auflage
128 Seiten
Faber & Faber (Verlag)
978-0-571-38904-9 (ISBN)

Infos

LONGLISTED FOR THE BOOKER PRIZE 2025 From the author of Assembly - THE MUST-READ NOVEL OF 2025 in the GUARDIAN, SUNDAY TIMES, GQ, ELLE, OBSERVER, INDEPENDENT, RADIO TIMES, BBC, HARPER'S BAZAAR, and GOOD HOUSEKEEPING 'An instant classic.' ELLE 'Utterly phenomenal.' ELIZABETH DAY 'Smart, twisty and original.' DAVID NICHOLLS 'A sharp, clever take on contemporary culture.'DAILY MAIL 'In a class of her own.'FINANCIAL TIMES On an abandoned Yorkshire farm, a group of hippie-anarchists have taken up residence to build a new society. When their leader is brutally bludgeoned with a solid gold bar, an ambitious young journalist sets out to uncover the truth behind the attack. The longread exposé she writes goes viral - but is there more to the story than meets the eye? Universality unravels the messy aftermath of that exposé through the perspective of each of the mystery's key players: a self-pitying banker, a columnist with secrets, a cult leader with dreams, and a fugitive with nothing left to lose. The follow-up to Natasha Brown's Assembly is a twisty, slippery story of media, class, power and truth. Cutting through the noise, it reveals British society today for what it is. 'A searing, state-of-the-nation novel.' STYLIST 'Confirms Natasha Brown as a major talent.' OBSERVER 'A brilliant, unusual social x-ray of modern Britain.' ANDREW O'HAGAN 'It is impossible to not get utterly sucked in.' JENNY MUSTARD 'One of the most intelligent voices writing today.' GUARDIAN 'Original, vital, and unputdownable.' TESS GUNTY 'Brown is an astute political observer, easily dismembering cancel culture and our media circus.' NEW STATESMAN

Natasha Brown is a British novelist. Her debut novel Assembly was shortlisted for awards including the Folio Prize, the Goldsmiths Prize and the Orwell Prize for Fiction. Natasha was named one of Granta's Best of Young British Novelists in 2023 and one of the Observer's Best Debut Novelists in 2021.

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LONGLISTED FOR THE BOOKER PRIZE 2025From the author of Assembly - A SPECTATOR, BBC AND DAZED BOOK OF THE YEAR'An instant classic.' ELLE'Utterly phenomenal.' ELIZABETH DAY'Smart, twisty and original.' DAVID NICHOLLS'A sharp, clever take on contemporary culture.'DAILY MAIL'In a class of her own.'FINANCIAL TIMESOn an abandoned Yorkshire farm, a group of hippie-anarchists have taken up residence to build a new society. When their leader is brutally bludgeoned with a solid gold bar, an ambitious young journalist sets out to uncover the truth behind the attack. The longread expose she writes goes viral - but is there more to the story than meets the eye?Universality unravels the messy aftermath of that expose through the perspective of each of the mystery's key players: a self-pitying banker, a columnist with secrets, a cult leader with dreams, and a fugitive with nothing left to lose. The follow-up to Natasha Brown's Assembly is a twisty, slippery story of media, class, power and truth. Cutting through the noise, it reveals British society today for what it is. 'A searing, state-of-the-nation novel.' STYLIST'Confirms Natasha Brown as a major talent.' OBSERVER'A brilliant, unusual social x-ray of modern Britain.' ANDREW O'HAGAN'It is impossible to not get utterly sucked in.' JENNY MUSTARD'One of the most intelligent voices writing today.' GUARDIAN'Original, vital, and unputdownable.' TESS GUNTY'Brown is an astute political observer, easily dismembering cancel culture and our media circus.' NEW STATESMAN

Textauszug

 

 

She had already, after agonising over whether to first wash it, awkwardly rinsed the chicken and then rubbed crushed fennel seeds and sea salt into its cold, dimpled skin. Next she stuffed it, holding the cavity open with her left hand and pushing in fresh oregano with her right. Six plum-sized organic tomatoes sat on a paper tray inside a clear plastic packet to the left of the chicken, still attached to the vine. After opening the packet and pulling each tomato from its short green stem, she sliced and arranged the watery segments around the chicken, sunny sides up. She wiped her fingers on a chequered kitchen towel and consulted the recipe on her phone. She dug two garlic cloves out of a bulb she kept on the spice rack, halved them (lengthwise, skin on) and dropped the four pieces in with the chicken and tomatoes. She took the solid butter from the fridge, peeled back the foiled wrapping paper and set it down on the chopping board. Carefully, she pressed into the butter with a dull knife until it met the unyielding surface beneath. Repeating the motion, she cut the smaller portion into soft chunks which she then duly distributed around the chicken, before pausing to clean her hands again with the towel. Emptying the oregano packet into a heap, she chopped the leaves roughly and sprinkled the pieces over the tray like confetti. With her phone, she took pictures of the chicken from different angles, first shooting from chest-height, then straining her arms above it for a top-down shot. Finally, she pulled open the preheated oven and slid the tray onto the middle rack.

By the time her guests arrived an hour later, the oregano chicken was slow-roasting; Hannah had changed outfit twice and reapplied her make-up once; the kitchen smelled sweet, golden-brown delicious.

*

‘Are you certain, Hannah, that it’s safe out there?’

Martin  unclipped  his  helmet  as  he  said  this, clearly appalled. He looked at the dubious assortment of locks and chains along the left edge of the front door. ‘I mean onehundred-per-cent absolutely certain?’

‘Oh, come on now.’ Guin swatted him in playful reproach. ‘You’re obsessed with that thing!’

She swept along the short corridor, a whoosh of wispy hair and soft fabric, right through the kitchen and out onto the patio. It was a grassy little paved area just large enough for a picnic table and four folding chairs. Hannah had laid out a white tablecloth along with ramekins of nuts and olives and a bottle of organic wine from M&S.

‘Isn’t this lovely,’ said Guin, indulgently.

Already seated at the table, John reached for the bottle and frowned at the label as Guin took the chair beside his.

‘There’s an app for that now, you know,’ Martin said. ‘No need to try and decipher the runes, as it were.’ He sat down across from the couple and pulled his trouser leg out from his sock.

Sniffily, John inspected the bottle for a further few seconds, before handing it over to Martin. Hannah allowed herself a giddy moment of delight; she was glad, and frankly relieved, that this evening had come together as planned. Adult friendship bonds were tenuous; the past decade had been a lengthy demonstration of this truth. Owing to differences in circumstances and boroughs, these people – her shiny, sparkling friends – had drifted almost beyond her grasp. The article’s success had been a lifeline, a reason to reopen communication. To check in and say hi, with the understanding that her overture would be welcome. Martin dramatically uncorked the wine and poured. Glasses clinked into Hannah’s, a tinkling welcome back into the fold.

Her article, and its forthcoming television adaptation, was the first topic of conversation. After a few words of polite congratulations, Martin demanded details of what the producers would change.

‘Well, it’s going to be much more diverse … For starters, they’re adding a love story between the hippy anarchist woman and the journalist.’

Guin raised an eyebrow at this.

‘You mean between you and China, was it?’

‘Indiya.’

‘Did that really happen?’

‘The characters are only loosely based on real people, remember. But anyway – no, it didn’t, of course. I wouldn’t get involved like that, I’m a journalist.’

‘The consummate professional.’

Ignoring Martin’s smirk, Hannah pressed on. ‘And they’re casting Jake as black.’

‘There it is,’ said John.

‘What?’

He just shook his head.

‘So what about Lenny,’ Martin leered. ‘Is she a sista?’

Guin snorted.

‘Lenny won’t be in it, actually. They’re, well, we’re probably changing Jake’s mum to be Spencer’s housekeeper, instead of just a neighbour. Kind of a composite character.’

‘Oh, but that’s quite a change, isn’t it?’ Guin frowned.

‘I’m not sure how well Lenny would translate to the screen anyway.’ Hannah spoke carefully. The adaptation, even as it took shape now, felt tentative and precious.

‘In fairness, she was barely intelligible on the page – no offence. Obviously that’s not down to your writing, Han. I know you like her, but … Lenny’s a strange fish, isn’t she? It’s a bit difficult to find a coherent ideology across what she says.’ Martin chuckled. ‘Unless incoherence is her ideology.’

Martin had been tapped to interview Lenny in a few months’ time, at a publicity event for her new book. After a quick google, he was left unimpressed: another ageing lady-populist braying for relevance. Hardly a rarity on Britain’s tiresome news media scene. Ordinarily, he would have declined the invitation, claiming a scheduling conflict, but he was keen to get in with this particular festival. He could pinch his nose and interview one silly woman, surely? Hannah was fiddling with the stem of her glass. It was unexpected – this little career revival of hers. To be honest, he’d written Hannah off years ago. Obviously not cut out for the trade. How, then, had she managed such a turnaround? He frowned as, oblivious beside him, Hannah nosed at her wine.

‘So why— No, Guinnie. It’s worth asking. Why are you shoehorning identity politics into this? Why make this character black? Jake is a real person. You do realise that? A white person, unless we’re not allowed to say that now?’

‘Broader appeal, I suppose,’ offered Martin.

‘Exactly,’ said Hannah, keen to steer the conversation back to uncontentious, celebratory ground. ‘The story speaks to a wider audience this way. The original piece was, I think we’re still allowed to say it, John, very white.’

She laughed encouragingly, but John scowled on.

‘It is set in bloody England.’

‘Right, but a TV show needs to be international. If you want viewers, you need the Fast & Furious approach. Like it or not, people want some variety on their screens, especially for this type of thing. No, really. The production company analyses all of this. From the streaming data, I guess. I don’t know. It’s just not something they’d leave up to chance. Besides, as a storyteller, I have to say it works, actually. It kind of resolves some of the inconsistencies in Jake’s character. I don’t know, it’s hard to explain, but Jake just makes more sense, his struggles and arc feel more representative, when you know that he’s black.’

Hannah tried to remember more of what her agent had said about the changes.

‘It’s like a modern-day Bonfire of the Vanities,’ she added at last, ‘unravelling the complexities of race, class and capitalistic greed in the social media age!’

John crossed his arms but said nothing.

‘Well, congratulations. It all sounds very exciting.’ Guin reached across the table and squeezed Hannah’s hand. ‘So. Is there another big investigation in the works? What’s next for you?’

For the last few years, perhaps even longer, Hannah had not had a convincing answer to this question. Only that one summer between results day and the start of university had really ever afforded her an easy, agreeable answer. What was she doing now? It had been about a year since ‘Gold’ came out. A life-changing year. The world, it seemed, had returned to something like normality. And her own life was perhaps also veering back on track.

Two years ago, she’d been falling apart. After being furloughed, her flatmate Fran had decided to move back in with family. As a freelancer, Hannah had no hope of...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 11.3.2025
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Romane / Erzählungen
• ISBN-10: 0-571-38904-X / 057138904X
• ISBN-13: 978-0-571-38904-9 / 9780571389049