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The Accidental | 
 enlarge | Author: Ali Smith
Publisher: Highbridge Audio
Category: Book
List Price: $34.95
Buy New: $3.33
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Avg. Customer Rating:  57 reviews
Sales Rank: 951775
Format: Audiobook, Unabridged
Media: Audio CD
Edition: Unabridged
Number Of Items: 1
Pages: 540
Shipping Weight (lbs): 0.5
Dimensions (in): 5.8 x 5.1 x 1.1
ISBN: 1598870130
Dewey Decimal Number: 823.914
EAN: 9781598870138
ASIN: 1598870130
Publication Date: February 2, 2006
Availability: Usually ships in 1-2 business days
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Condition: New & Unread Book that May Have Slight Handling Wear From Bookstore Shelf. IN-STOCK Now For Immediate Secure Packaging & Delivery!
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| Editorial Reviews:
Amazon.com
Before writing The Accidental, Ali Smith wrote Hotel World, shortlisted for both the Orange Prize and the Man Booker Prize, and several short story collections. Her work is absolutely original, with a trademark quirky style, with whole passages that seem to have been bound into the wrong book and occasional historical asides completely outside the narrative line. Don't be fooled; with Smith, every word has a purpose. Amber is the catalyst who makes the novel happen. She appears on the doorstep of the Smart's rented summer cottage in Norfolk, England, barefoot and unexpected. Eve Smart, a third-rate author suffering writer's block, believes that she is a friend of her husband's. Michael is a womanizing University professor, but he doesn't usually drag his quarry home. He thinks that she must be a friend of Eve's. Everyone is politely confused and Amber is invited to dinner. She is a consummate liar and manipulator who manages to seduce everyone in the family in some significant way. Magnus, Eve's 17-year-old son from a former marriage and Astrid, her 12-year-old daughter, are easy prey. Magnus is in despair. He played a prank on a classmate and it went horribly wrong when she killed herself because of the humiliation it caused. He cannot shake the guilt and is about to hang himself from the shower rod when Amber walks into the bathroom, the perfect deus ex machina. She bathes him and takes him back downstairs, announcing that she found him trying to kill himself. Everyone titters. Could it be possible? This is a recurring question as Amber's behavior becomes more and more outrageous. Is this really happening, or is it some family-wide delusion? To add to the mystery, there is a Rashomon-like character to the story in that the same events are recalled by the Smarts through their own filters. This life force who is Amber is finally thwarted when Eve, after a disturbing event, compels her to leave. The family is left to re-evaluate who they are post-Amber and to decide how to live with the changes she has brought about in them through this "accidental" encounter. This is a completely engrossing novel that raises as many questions as it answers. --Valerie Ryan
Product Description
Barefoot, thirty-something Amber shows up at the door of a Norfolk cottage that the Smarts are renting for the summer, insinuating herself into their family. Dazzled by her seeming exoticism, the Smarts begin to examine the accidents of their lives under the searing lens of Amberas perceptions. When the mother Eve finally banishes her from the cottage, Amber disappears from their sight, but notaas they find when they return home to Londonafrom their profoundly altered lives. Fearlessly intelligent, disarmingly playful, The Accidental is a Joycean tour-de-force of literary improvisation that explores the nature of truth, the role of chance, and the transformative power of storytelling.
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| Customer Reviews: Read 52 more reviews...
 Nothing accidental about it, except maybe Amber March 31, 2008
A family on holiday in a rural county northeast of London is so self-absorbed that they don't realize that they've let a complete stranger into their home. This is the premise of Ali Smith's 2005 novel, The Accidental. The first chapter begins in the first person voice of Amber MacDonald, the stranger; she is the only first person voice in the story. Each of the three sections of the book allows the voice of Amber and each of the four people in the family a stream-of-consciousness narration of their thoughts during a stretch of time. The family: Astrid Smart, the twelve year-old daughter who strives to record all of her life on a camcorder; Magnus Smart, the seventeen year-old son haunted by the suicide of a classmate; Eve Smart, the mother and egotistical author of bad fiction; and Dr. Michael Smart, the step-father and philandering professor; relate their lives in a polyglossic net of third person, present tense episodes. The book moves through time completely within the thoughts of these characters; a modern use of language and structure elements creates a striking, vivid picture of each of their personal crises.
At first look, the characters seem flat, almost stock characters, floating around, too self-centered to notice each other. Astrid's prepubescent musings are whimsical but hardly philosophical; Magnus's depressive, obsessive repetitions are tiresome. Enter Amber. Almost immediately, she saves Magnus from bathroom suicide, becomes the singular obsession of Michael, and gains the trust of Astrid. Amber is the center of conflict in the novel, and the catalyst for the change of each of the family members. While she drives the conflict, however, it would be difficult to say that she is the book's main character--each of the characters brings their own unraveling story to the book, and amazingly, Smith does justice to each of them. Michael, the cliche of the philandering professor, even seems to become self-aware--losing his egoism in the realization that his life is a stereotype. In the only break from stream-of-consciousness style writing in the text, this realization is related in sonnet, free verse, aabb and abab poetry form in the words of Michael.
Because the narration is almost exclusively the stream-of-consciousness presentation of the thoughts of each individual character, the narration does little for exposition beyond what is apparent to the characters. When the characters return home from their vacation at the end of the novel, their house has been stripped entirely empty of everything except the answering machine. It is never discovered what actually transpired to cause this, but Eve suspects that it is Amber's doing. This and other intentional ambiguities add to the mystery of the novel. As epiphanies are reached and characters change their perspectives, the reader must choose which perspective to take on the turn of events, based on the different realities of each of the characters.
One of my favorite elements of the text is the relation of current events to the lives of the characters. At one point, toward the end of the book, Eve is reflecting on some disturbing images recently released from Abu Gharib prison in Baghdad. The picture is a familiar one to the minds of most contemporary Americans, and the description of her reflection on the pictures is probably similar to a fairly recent experience many readers have had. It remains to be told whether this will simply make the book seem outdated in later years, but having snippets of what is still a current situation throughout the text creates a solid sense of a modern setting.
Conventions of devices and structure exist to promote unity and harmony in a text. The Accidental lacks the conventions of dialogue, capitalization, sentence structure, character structure (antagonist vs. protagonist), exposition, punctuation, and use of a single narrator. All these things aside, however, the book still exists as a unified text. The ending of the book is (without being a spoiler) very satisfactory, the text seems harmonized and even one further--believable. There is very little extraneous material, sans one piece: the first person musings of Amber. Amber seems to ramble about little connected with the action of the novel, and her first person narration is completely false. Amber claims to be everything she isn't, and gives absolutely no insight into her character. This is not to say that the book would be any better if the reader knew what Amber was thinking; in fact, it would definitely detract from the intended ambiguity and mystery of the text. However, her parts were rambling, nonsensical, and the author might have done us one better by simply leaving them out. Fortunately, Amber's input is short and the development of the other characters makes up for her extraneous babble.
The unconventional style of Smith's novel is quite successful in telling the story of a pivotal year in the life of the Smart family. The modern structure creates ease of understanding of the characters and their surroundings, and allows the author, in a relatively short text, to relate not one, but four complete stories.
 Too Much Writing, Too Little Story December 21, 2007
2 out of 3 found this review helpful
More of a technically impressive book than an enjoyable one. The characters are with quirks that are fun to write -- the hyperintellectual daughter always using "i.e" in her monologues, the son experiencing the world as a math equation -- but that make them feel more like vessels for glitzy prose than actual individuals. The story is weighed down by the writing, and I found myself scanning whole pages to get to the next graf where something, anything, would actually happen.
 great book October 27, 2007
i loved this novel of a mysterious woman who arrives at the vacation house of a british academic family and with ingenuity and bravery challenges and heals the broken life of each of her dysfunctional hosts. the book is loosely based on the pier paolo pasolini's 1968 film "teorama"; but where pasolini is allegoric, over-stated, almost exploitative in his sexuality, smith seems to have learned complexity and subtlety from the 4 decades since pasolini filmed. she is phenomenological, heartfelt, caring. less sex and more eros. whereas pasolini alludes to jesus, smith paints a samurai vision of taking charge of one's life and acting to help those around you. i am reminded of "ghost dog" and "zatoichi."
Whoops-a-Daisy October 25, 2007
7 out of 7 found this review helpful
It's no secret that writers, especially the literary kind, are known for wearing their works like masks, slipping their hands puppet-like into characters and mugging for their audience: they may not be as smart, attractive, or popular as their characters, but the authors certainly share the same opinions.
In "The Accidental," it's not hard to figure out who author Ali Smith wants to be (or is). She's Amber, a sort of stochastic herbal essence, an earth-flavored, barefoot, dandelion wine of a woman who flounces in a figurative free-fall into the core of the book, twirls about with mad abandon and reckless sexiness, and disappears with just as much speed and consequence. She puts dirty thighs on Heisneberg's uncertainty principle and drops the drawers of chaos theory, manhandling the nuts and bolts inside.
Okay, I'm sorry, I'll be less poetic, even I think Smith herself would appreciate such an out-of-the-lines description. Smith's writing is equally unfettered, and for people who like the idea of meandering through prose the way you might meander through a lovely (and creepy) forest, "The Accidental" is something to cuddle up to. The whole novel reads like one long word game, and even if that means the seriousness of its import is sometimes smeared aside, it also means that for people who love the English language, well, there's plenty here to enjoy.
But that import. Let me not forget the import.
The story is about the family Smarts. Eve is a struggling writer, Michael is an oversexed professor, Magnus is a tortured teen with a secret, and Astrid is a identity-challenged female (one of those thirteen-year-old daughters that cannot accurately be called either girl, woman, or even young lady). Their problems aren't particularly astounding or new, and in many cases, it's hard to sympathize with them, since their troubles are self-brewed and administered (or, in the case of Astrid, normal enough to be boring).
Amber doesn't sympathize with them either. She appears one day at their summer cottage and their lives begin to change. She manipulates and motivates them in the same way any good author drives and directs her characters. The only difference here is that the characters are aware of the manipulation. Step aside, Priandello. Smith's gonna show you a thing or two.
It works in fits and starts (much in the same way that the metaphorical character names are simultaneously profound and heavy-handed), depending on who you sympathize with. I found myself most closely drawn to the adolescent Astrid, but only because her pre-teen angsts were so accurately set up and then so cleanly knocked down. Magnus's shackles of misery and his subsequent liberation I found clever but overdrawn. Eve's self-doubts and dramatics were powerfully done, but ultimately watered down. And Michael, well, the man may well have not existed in the book. As an English professor, some of his sections manage to have the most interesting writing and yet still say the least out of anyone's. Perhaps that's the point.
The book shows us the same things in four different ways, and it's entertaining in the way of jugglers and Rubik's Cubes. It's ultimately the point of the novel that gets in the way, its drive to be something serious. Eve's section ends with a sort-of back-loop to what started the novel, and it's far too cute for the book's own good. She tries to learn and emulate Amber, the novel's catalyst, and although Smith suggests it leads to redemption, I have my doubts.
Because, although Amber is certainly an intriguing character, she is ultimately a marionette with about four strings too many. The book is occasionally punctuated with brief Amber vignettes; related primarily to movies, they are supposed to give us a glimpse into Amber's genesis and upbringing in a world of celluloid and Act 3 miracles, to show us where her free-spirited anarchy found its first birth, and to explain -- in some small measure -- why (or how) this strange woman alters the lives along her seemingly uncharted path. It's Smith's way of bear-hugging the character, of petting her fondly by the fire of her soul.
It's a little patronizing, but it's also understandable. Amber is any author's dream -- something mysterious and sexy, a controlled explosion. Smith wants to use her to teach us something, and even if I didn't feel particularly educated after her exposure (can you guess if the Smarts get smarter?), I did enjoy myself. That part probably wasn't an accident.
Palaver August 10, 2007
4 out of 6 found this review helpful
In one of the few impressive passages of Ali Smith's novel "The Accidental," a 17 year old boy named Magnus, the son of Eve Smart and stepson of her husband Michael Smart, reflects upon Plato's allegory of the cave:
"A group of men were chained inside a cave, and all they saw, all they could see and all they'd ever seen of the world was the shadows their own fire made on the walls. They watched the shadows all the time. They spent their days watching them. They believed that's what life was. But then one of them was forced out of the cave and into the real world. When he came back into the cave and told the others about sunlight, they didn't believe him." (p. 249)
Plato' allegory has a timeless quality that captures, in its provocative way, something essential about the human condition. People tend to flounder in their lives, to be unsure of what they want, and to pursue things that will not bring them happiness. It is the part of wisdom to leave the cave and see reality clearly. For those who take Plato's allegory seriously, philosophy and spirituality (religion) tend to be the paths that can lead out of the cave.
Smith's book seems to be a meditiation on how people continue to be caught in Plato's cave and in its world of illusions. The chief characters in the book are the members of a disfunctional family, the Smarts. Michael Smart, 42, is a womanizing professor of English and a poet. His wife Eve, 42, is a writer of historical fiction. Magnus, Eve's son, has adolescent sexuality and a dark secret on his mind. Astrid, 12, a budding adolescent, spends a great deal of time with photography and with an expensive camera her parents have given her.
On a summer holiday in Norfolk, the Smart's meet -- or do they -- a 30ish woman named Amber who changes their lives. She throws away Astrid's camera, has sex with Magnus, insults Eve, and doesn't sleep with Michael. Amber, or the idea of Amber, changes the life of the family and each of its four members, irrevocably when they return from their holiday.
Smith's writing style is a major problem with this book. While she does try to develop her characters, the writing is choppy and mannered. The writing calls attention to itself, shows no real inner feeling, and is, in general, unsuited to a serious theme. It failed to hold my interest after only a few pages.
I didn't find the book took Plato or his cave seriously. The book has an aura of importance to it which is belied by its mannerism and its triviality. Smith and her character Amber may want to call the reader's attention to how the Smarts, and most people remain imprisoned in Plato's cave. But the writing itself, and Amber's antics, did not inspire confidence in me. The story of the book and the characters did not persuade me that anyone was understanding or escaping from a cave. Rather, the characters, the author, and the story itself, seem caught in their cave. The characters and their problems seemed stereotyped and predictable, and the manner of the telling was irritating. There was little insightful in the problems of the characters, in Amber's impact upon them, or in the resolution.
The theme of a mysterious stranger, generally a woman, who descends upon a family and brings the voice of imagination or hope into their lives is not unusual in fiction. A much better, though less heralded novel in which the theme is well explored is "The Illuminated Soul" by Aryeh Stollman. That book explains the effect of a woman visitor of uncertain origins on the imagination and life of a brooding, highly intelligent adolescent boy who has lost his father and on his family. The story is told much more seriously and reflectively than is the case in this novel.
Readers who are interested in Smith's theme will find it much better realized in Stollman's fine book.
Plato's allegory of the cave remains an archetype of human experience, the stuff of which novels are made. But I am afraid "The Accidental" is flip, stilted, and pretentious. It remains caught in its own morass.
Robin Friedman
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