At the start of Kiley Reid’s standout first novel, a security guard accosts a young black babysitter as she strolls the aisles of an upscale Philadelphia supermarket with her pint-size white charge. It’s late, the babysitter having been summoned from a party so the child’s affluent parents can deal with a domestic emergency, and a meddlesome fellow shopper has decided that something about the pair doesn’t “feel right”. A tense standoff ensues, the guard refusing to let the babysitter leave and all but accusing her of kidnapping while a bystander films it on his phone. Eventually, the babysitter has to summon the child’s father to collect them.
It’s a flawlessly paced scene, at once funny and menacing, its every rippling nuance captured with precision and acuity. It’s also a far more straightforward example of racism in action than anything that follows, because the focus of this book is an altogether more slippery and underexamined type of prejudice: liberal racism.
The babysitter’s name is Emira Tucker and she’s a college grad edging into her mid-20s. While her ambitious friends are beginning to make their way in the world, she’d be quite content to continue as a part-time babysitter, if only she weren’t about to age out of her parents’ health insurance. Empathic and pragmatic, Emira is the novel’s star, though Reid uses additional viewpoints to tell her story, among them that of Emira’s employer, Alix Chamberlain.
Alix is older and married to a local news anchor, with a social media career that has sprung from her knack for soliciting freebies via politely written letters. Having scored a book deal, she has hired Emira to help out with her two kids, three-year-old Briar and baby Catherine, though in truth, it’s really just inquisitive, chatterbox Briar that she’d rather not have to spend time with.
In the wake of the supermarket incident, Alix sets out to make a project of Emira, becoming borderline obsessed in the process. Her response is galvanised by the reappearance of someone from her past, who brings unwelcome reminders of another racially charged episode, and as the novel powers forward, her apparent gaucheness takes on a very different aspect.
There’s something a touch too tidy about the way Alix’s character develops, and it’s true that the plot pivots on an almighty coincidence. All the same, Reid writes with a confidence and verve that produce magnetic prose, and she’s a whiz at dialogue, whether it’s the African-American vernacular that Emira slips into with her girlfriends or Briar’s bold toddler-talk. There are some memorable set pieces of exquisite social awkwardness, too, including a Thanksgiving lunch with ironically kitsch trimmings.
While race dominates, Reid is far too engaged a writer to let it define a narrative that has equally incisive observations to share about everything from maternal ambivalence to dating mores and dining fads. Hypocrisy and forgiveness get a look in, and in some respects, this is a novel that’s as much about money and class as anything. All in all, it’s a cracking debut – charming, authentic and every bit as entertaining as it is calmly, intelligently damning.
• Such a Fun Age by Kiley Reid is published by Bloomsbury Circus (£12.99). To order a copy go to guardianbookshop.com. Free UK p&p over £15
