The enigmatic, unnamed narrator in Natasha Brown's poignant debut, Assembly, set in the heart of London's financial district, is a wistful Britisher of Jamaican heritage confronting a fork in the road of her outwardly prosperous life.
Recently promoted at her company, where she stands out both for her gender and ancestry, the young woman can choose to continue her exhausting, lonely ascent up the ladder of corporate achievement, alongside misogynistic coworkers who dismiss her success as a nod to the veneer of diversity she confers upon her employer. Or she can embrace the escape valve that is her cancer diagnosis and transcend this life. Untreated, the cancer is terminal, and therein lies the seductive release of walking away from it all, from the "breezy brutality" of daily racism. Having a white boyfriend gives her credibility as "the right sort of diversity," but it's not enough to prevent airline personnel from moving her to the economy check-in line despite her business class ticket.
This slender, captivating novel's essential drama lies in Brown's evocative snapshots, scenes from a life of striving, achievement and assimilation that are not enough to bestow acceptance by the majority--a level of recognition the disillusioned young woman can't help but covet. "Born here, parents born here, always lived here--still, never from here," she laments as she ponders the elusiveness of true citizenship.
Assembly will sweep up readers with the sheer power of Brown's devastatingly eloquent prose, culminating in a gorgeous countryside setting where the narrator, attending a lavish party at her boyfriend's family estate, finally confronts her destiny. --Shahina Piyarali, reviewer