This is The Writer's Voice, new fiction from The New Yorker.

I'm Deborah Treesman, fiction editor at The New Yorker.

On this episode of The Writer's Voice, we'll hear Zadie Smith read her story now more than ever,

from the July 23rd, 2018 issue of the magazine.

Smith is the author of five novels, including NW and Swingtime.

Her essay collection, Feel Free, was published in February.

Now here's Sadie Smith.

Now more than ever.

There is an urge to be good, to be seen to be good, to be seen, also to be, badness, invisibility,

things as they are in reality as opposed to things as they seem, death itself, these are out of fashion.

This is basically what I told Mary. I said, Mary, all these things I just

mentioned are not really done anymore. And also, while we're on the subject, that name of yours is

not going to fly. Nobody's called Mary these days. It's painful for me, even to say your name.

Actually, could you get the hell out of here? Mary left. Scout came by, a great improvement.

Scout is so involved and active. She is on all platforms and rarely becomes aware of anything much later than, say, the 300th person. By way of

comparison, the earliest I've ever been aware of anything was that time I was the 10,206th person

to see that thing. There's evidently a considerable gulf between Scout

and me. But that's why I'm always so appreciative of her coming by and giving me news.

Now, according to Scout, the news was, is that the past is now also the present. I invited her to

pull up a stool at my mid-century modern breakfast bar and unpacked that

a little for me. A light that afternoon was beautiful. From my place on the 11th floor I could see

all the way to the Hudson, and it filled me with optimism and an eagerness to be schooled. But Scout was

...