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There but for The_ A Novel - Ali Smith [0]

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.


Copyright © 2011 by Ali Smith

All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Pantheon Books,

a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

Originally published in Great Britain by Hamish Hamilton, published by the Penguin Group, an imprint of Penguin Books Ltd., London.

Pantheon Books and colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.

Grateful acknowledgment is made to Nanada Music, B.V., c/o Tier Three Music (ASCAP) for permission to reprint an excerpt from “Ding-A-Dong” by Dick Bakker, Will Luikinga, and Eddy Ouwens, copyright © Nada International C.V., administered by Nanada Music, B.V. International copyright secured. All rights reserved.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Smith, Ali.

There but for the / Ali Smith.

p. cm.

eISBN 978-0-307-37998-6

1. Middle-aged men—Fiction. 2. Personal space—Fiction.

3. Social interaction—Fiction. 4. Dinners and dining—Fiction.

5. Greenwich (London, England). 6. Identity (Psychology)—Fiction.

7. Psychological fiction. I. Title.

PR6069.M4213T47 2011 823'.914—dc22 2010051377

www.pantheonbooks.com

Cover design by Peter Mendelsund

First United States Edition

v3.1

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Acknowledgments and Thanks

Epigraph

The fact is

THERE

There was once

BUT

But (my dear Mark)

FOR

For 29 January

THE

About the Author

Also by Ali Smith

for Jackie Kay

for Sarah Pickstone

for Sarah Wood

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS AND THANKS

I’m indebted for sources of some of the stories about songs in this book to America’s Songs by Philip Furia and Michael Lasser (Routledge, 2006). I’m also indebted for information used in the first section to Caroline Moorehead’s Human Cargo: A Journey Among Refugees (Chatto and Windus, 2005).

Thank you, Cherry. Thank you, Lucy.

Thank you, Xandra, and thank you, Becky.

Thank you, Sarah and Laurie.

Thank you, Mary.

Thank you, Kasia.

Thank you, Andrew, and thank you, Tracy, and everybody at Wylie’s.

Thank you, Simon.

Very special thanks to Kate Thomson.

Thank you, Jackie.

Thank you, Sarah.

The essence of being human is that one does not seek perfection, that one is sometimes willing to commit sins for the sake of loyalty, that one does not push asceticism to the point where it makes friendly intercourse impossible, and that one is prepared in the end to be defeated and broken up by life, which is the inevitable price of fastening one’s love upon other human individuals.

—George Orwell

For only he who lives his life as a mystery is truly alive.

—Stefan Zweig

I hate mystery.

—Katherine Mansfield

Of longitudes, what other way have we,

But to mark when and where the dark eclipses be?

—John Donne

Every wink of an eye some new grace will be born.

—William Shakespeare

The fact is, imagine a man sitting on an exercise bike in a spare room. He’s a pretty ordinary man except that across his eyes and also across his mouth it looks like he’s wearing letterbox flaps. Look closer and his eyes and mouth are both separately covered by little grey rectangles. They’re like the censorship strips that newspapers and magazines would put across people’s eyes in the old days before they could digitally fuzz up or pixellate a face to block the identity of the person whose face it is.


Sometimes these strips, or bars, or boxes, would also be put across parts of the body which people weren’t supposed to see, as a protective measure for the viewing public. Mostly they were supposed to protect the identity of the person in the picture from being ascertained. But really what they did was make a picture look like something underhand, or seedy, or dodgy, or worse, had happened; they were like a proof of something unspeakable.

When this man on the bike moves his head

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