Like by Ali Smith (1997): A Review

Title: Like

Author: Ali Smith

Publication Year: 1997

Rating: ⭐⭐⭐💫

Pages: 301

Source: book

Genre: literary fiction, queer

At last, the moment has come: time to review Like by Ali Smith—after reading it twice in just two months. Yes, twice. Voluntarily. Mostly.

So, why did I read it twice? Is it that good? Well… it’s good. But not “read it back-to-back like a literary maniac” good. Don’t get me wrong: it’s not bad at all. It’s just not my favorite Ali Smith novel so far (and I’ve read, what, three now?). Let me explain.

First of all, on my initial read—done for our beloved “One More Book Club”—I apparently glided past several important parts and events with the grace of a distracted pigeon. Only later did I realize I’d missed things that everyone else seemed to catch. So, back I went, metaphorical magnifying glass in hand. The second reason is more serious: we’re having a conference on Ali Smith’s work, so this became a work-first, fun-second situation.

Now, what is this book? Honestly, I’m not sure it’s “like” anything else I’ve read. It is, of course, “like” Smith’s other work, and feels very much like a prototype of the Smithian style she later perfects. You can see her future self taking notes in the margins.

Like tells the story of Amy and Ash, their relationship, and what happens after that relationship. The problem is that everything I say about this “relationship” might be completely wrong, because I’m not convinced there actually is a relationship in the way we usually define it. So how do we talk about the future of a relationship that may not even have existed? Exactly. I might be entirely mistaken, but Ali Smith is not in the business of giving us answers, so we all get to sit here happily confused together.

What I can say—with, let’s say, 95% confidence—is that the book deals with sexual orientation, the messiness of being in the closet and then out of it, and the way time behaves more like soup than a straight line. There are some dates, yes, but time feels fluid and slippery. We also get England–Scotland tensions, plenty of sharp little academic jabs (actually, not a few—a lot), class, politics, and many others, and book burning, lots of book burning.

As an early work, it’s a fascinating glimpse into what Smith wants to do with her literary life. You can trace the outlines of her later work here. I really appreciate what she’s trying to do with narrative, and I’m fairly confident that “answering our questions” or “clearing up confusion” is absolutely not on her to-do list.

As for the characters: I found almost all of them unlikeable, annoying, and teetering somewhere on the edge of psychosis. The only exception is Kate, whom I adored. Maybe Kate represents the future, or the answer, or some kind of hope. Maybe. I honestly have no idea, but that has never stopped me from forming opinions before, and it’s not going to start now.

Another realization about Smith’s work: do not be fooled by the order of the POVs. Often, you should read the second one first. I just had to share this public service announcement. If you don’t—if you’re like me, or simply not the most attentive reader—you may find yourself going back to the beginning to reread everything in a new light. Then you’ll wonder whether you should reread the second part again to catch anything you missed, and suddenly you’re trapped in a narrative time loop with no obvious way out.

I can’t really give you concrete specifics about the story without misleading you, because half the point seems to be not knowing. If you enjoy confusion, ambiguity, and the feeling that the author is always one step ahead of you and slightly amused by it, then by all means: pick up Like and see what you make of it. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.