An interview with Natasha Brown
Discussing the power of perspective with the author of Universality
In Universality, a young freelance journalist publishes an explosive story about a violent attack that centres around an ostracized member of a “self-sustaining community”, an unscrupulous banker’s farm in Yorkshire, a controversial columnist, and the gold bar that connects them all. Once the piece goes viral, the truth starts to bend…
Possessing a gift for illuminating society’s follies in prose that is at once succinct and incredibly stratified, Brown is one of the most exciting writers working today. Her exquisite debut, Assembly, addressed race, class, illness and the question of whether language can ever be neutral. Focusing on privilege and wealth once again in Universality, the parable of her second novel can be encapsulated in one stunning scene, when an aging writer, who has reoriented her career after trading in the weekly lifestyle columns for revelrous discord, confides to a literary festival assistant:
“Remember—you’ve always got your words. Even when you’re at a disadvantage, what you say and write can completely turn things around. …Words are your weapons, they’re your tools, your currency.”
Examining the blunt force of language through characters that encourage readers to question everything, Natasha Brown’s Universality is a thought-provoking exploration of the power—and weaponry—of perspective.
Where did the idea of Universality begin for you?
When I was in secondary school, I was encouraged to read broadsheet newspapers regularly. I was told that building such a habit would help me to get into university. I think it was then that I became interested in these papers as pieces of media – who wrote them? How were they funded? Who decided what made it in and what was left out?
Those questions have never really left me. And I wrote Universality to explore some of the answers. I knew that, in a lot of ways, this would be quite a risky book to write. In the UK at least, the papers are viscous – they’re aggressive in the face of any scrutiny. But someone’s got to put their head above the parapet occasionally, I think. Otherwise we end up exactly where we’ve found ourselves.
I’d love to hear more about how the novel’s form came to be, specifically the essay by Hannah, A Fool’s Gold. How and why did you decide to open the book this way, and what kind of research went into crafting a fictional exposé that spans ~40 pages?
(I also wanted to comment on how brilliant the Alazon article on your website is, down to the font and detail of the blurred-out bottom!)
Narrative non-fiction is a genre, like any other. But it’s rarely been satirised. And most of us would be hard-pressed to define its quirks and cliches. I think what Janet Malcolm termed ‘the journalistic “I”’ – the enormously credible and weighty narrative voice in journalism – is so well-respected that we’re often loath to apply a critical literary eye to it. Yet, ever since Tom Wolfe’s New Journalism movement, journalism has been borrowing very deliberately from novels. I wanted to highlight the artifice and construction intrinsic to the ‘longread’ journalistic style that’s become commonplace today.
And I’m so glad you found (and enjoyed!) the Alazon website. I’m really interested in the ways that the presentation of journalism impacts how we read it. It’s not so much what we’re reading, as the authority that it’s presented with – whether that’s the printed masthead, or the whizzy, advertiser-infused online portal. These things all influence how we read a piece of writing – and it was a fun challenge to learn enough web development to spoof that style online (in addition to in the prose!).
“But someone’s got to put their head above the parapet occasionally, I think. Otherwise we end up exactly where we’ve found ourselves.”
—Natasha Brown
What did your days look like while working on Universality—did you have a particular routine, are you a writer who can easily withdraw from the work when they leave their desk, or does it follow you as you go about your everyday?
Much of my time writing Assembly was very regimented, I had set hours when I’d always write. Universality was far less structured. I was often travelling around the UK and Europe (at book festivals, universities and such) while I was writing, so my writing times were far less predictable. In both cases, the novels absolutely consumed me. I’ve spent over three years with the characters in Universality, thinking about them daily and continually taking notes. When the book is done, it’s a strange release to let go.
How do your surroundings influence your writing? Do you find that you produce work differently depending on where you are, or is there a particular location where you feel most like yourself as a writer?
I think I’ve really learned not to be picky about where I write. Making the most of any opportunities for writing (whether that’s on a packed train, at home, or in a café etc.) has been key to fitting writing around other obligations. With that said, I of course love spending time in my home office with a mug of coffee! However, I feel most like a writer whenever I’m writing – wherever that may be.
Whether a main character like Lenny or someone like Claire (Richard’s estranged wife) whose presence feels a bit more peripheral, the cast of Universality is thoroughly felt; as a reader you’re so close you get the sense that you can smell a character’s breath.
How do your characters arrive to you, and how do you know when they are fully realized?
I’m so glad to hear the characters had that effect for you! I spend weeks at a time writing from each individual character’s perspective (there’s literally events in my calendar for it…). To me, it’s crucial to understand who a character is, and why they’re making the choices they’re making. I have to convince myself what they’re doing makes sense. Each character is, to me, the protagonist in their own story. So I feel getting to know them deeply is key to making their motivations and actions realistic, even if they’re only lightly sketched on the page.
In terms of the nuts-and-bolts, I write every scene from the perspective of each participant (using a third person narrator in the free indirect discourse style). Once the scene has been approached from every angle, I revisit it as the narrator – who is, then, more of an editor – pulling together the key parts of each character’s view.
Sometimes, that means cutting the best lines (from a specific character’s perspective). But it allows me to get to an overall depiction that captures all the different characters’ views.
While promoting your debut, Assembly, you mentioned being interested in “the question of whether language can be neutral.” You recently shared that with Universality, you wanted to “take a look at people who use words—people who are very good at using words—for profit, to change people’s minds, to create narratives.”
Can you share a little more about that?
The perspective in Assembly is, necessarily, limited. I feel the novel attempt to create something meaningful within the literary confines that are (sometimes quite forcefully!) imposed on certain writers.
Universality is interested in how we come to an understanding of a shared truth – the cultural institutions who set those standards, and the individual operators who make the day-to-day decisions. I think it’s a question that people have been more and more interested in, in recent years, as our cultural institutions now appear to fail people who have previously trusted them. But it’s a question I’ve been interested in since I was a teenager, when I began reading the broadsheet newspapers. Who edits reality? And who editorialises reality?
“I think it’s a question that people have been more and more interested in, in recent years, as our cultural institutions now appear to fail people who have previously trusted them. But it’s a question I’ve been interested in since I was a teenager, when I began reading the broadsheet newspapers. Who edits reality? And who editorialises reality?”
—Natasha Brown
Has the writing process—whether how it feels to write, or the way you operate as a writer—changed since publishing Assembly?
I don’t think the process has changed that much. I felt as though I could do something much more challenging, and experimental, with this novel. But it felt like a deeper embrace of the approach that I already had, rather than something new.
I’m interested in hearing about your preferences as a reader: What draws you to a piece of fiction when you’re reading for pleasure?
I love reading books that make me forget that I’m reading – books that pull me in so deeply that the physical act of holding the book, and turning its pages, disappears. Sometimes that’s because the plot’s engrossing, and other times it’s because I’m completely diverted by the prose style.
If you could recommend three books that readers might enjoy after reading Universality, what would they be?
In terms of books that pair well with Universality, I think I’d suggest:
Our Tragic Universe by Scarlett Thomas
The Thirteen Problems by Agatha Christie
The Counterlife by Philip Roth
Natasha Brown is a British novelist. Her debut novel Assembly was shortlisted for several awards including the Folio Prize, the Goldsmiths Prize and the Orwell Prize for Fiction. It has been translated into 17 languages. 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. She’s also a Women’s Prize Futures Award finalist.
Interview by Emma Leokadia Walkiewicz
I’m so excited about this. I read Assembly last December and was blown away by how succinctly and elegantly Natasha tackled massive subjects like race and privilege. Her writing is razor-sharp, yet deeply affecting. She’s incredibly talented, and I can’t wait to read more from her!
this sounds absolutely fascinating! Adding to my TBR right away!