📚 AUTUMN by Ali Smith: A Review (3.5/5 ⭐)
"I Felt Like I Was Staring at Impressionist Art and Missing the Point... Until I Stopped Fighting It"
🚨 TRIGGER WARNINGS 🚨
Before we dive in, here's your heads-up:
Illness and death (we're talking end-of-life care)
Death by suicide (referenced)
Animal death
Racism and anti-immigrant sentiment ("GO HOME" graffiti, etc.)
Antigay bias
Gender discrimination
Religious discrimination
Substance use
Cursing
Okay, now let's get into the weeds of this book.
🔄 A Note Before We Begin: My Second Reading Epiphany
So here's the thing. When I first read this book, I hated it. Like, two-stars-hated it. I was frustrated, confused, and genuinely annoyed that I had spent my precious reading time on something that felt like a literary puzzle with missing pieces.
But then... I read it again. 😅
And I'm honestly glad I did. On a second reading, once I knew what to expect and stopped fighting the narrative structure, I actually started to appreciate what Ali Smith was doing. The humor popped out at me in ways I completely missed the first time. The imagery felt richer. The social commentary landed with more weight.
Don't get me wrong—it's still intentionally disorienting. It's still structurally frustrating. It's still a book that makes you work for it. But once I surrendered to the chaos and stopped demanding a traditional plot, I found a lot more to love.
So I'm officially revising my review from 2 stars to 3.5 stars. I still have complaints, but I can now see the genius behind the madness. And that's worth something.
📖 Overview: What Even Is This Book?
Look. I've been on a weird book streak lately. I keep finishing books and thinking, "Well, THAT was the weirdest thing I've ever read." Then the next one comes along and says, "Hold my beer." And here we are. AUTUMN BY ALI SMITH is officially one of the weirdest books I've ever read—and on my first go, I was NOT here for it.
For most of this novel, I genuinely had no idea what I was reading. I was piecing things together like a jigsaw puzzle that came in a bag with no picture on the box. Some people might call that "innovative storytelling." I called it exhausting... at least the first time around.
This 2016 novel is the first installment in Ali Smith's Seasonal Quartet and was shortlisted for the 2017 Man Booker Prize. The story centers on the unconventional friendship between Elisabeth Demand, a 32-year-old lecturer, and Daniel Gluck, her 101-year-old former neighbor who's lying near death in a care facility. Elisabeth keeps vigil by his bedside, and the narrative drifts between the fractured political landscape of post-Brexit Britain and decades of shared memories.
The novel explores themes like The Alienation Caused by Political Division, Art as a Subversive Record, and The Fluidity of Time and Memory.
Spoiler Warning: The rest of this review contains COMPLETE spoilers, including the ending.
📝 COMPLETE PLOT SUMMARY (WARNING: FULL SPOILERS!)
So here's what actually happens in this book, pieced together through a non-linear, dreamlike narrative structure that made me want to pull my hair out on the first pass—but that I learned to appreciate more the second time around.
The Present Day (Post-Brexit Britain)
It's 2016, and Britain is a hot mess. The Brexit vote has just happened, and the country is divided, hostile, and full of bureaucratic absurdity. Elisabeth goes to renew her passport at the Post Office, and the official tells her that her head is the "INCORRECT SIZE" in her photos. I'm not making this up. Her head is apparently wrong.
She visits her mother, Wendy, in a village where a neighbor's house has been defaced with the words "GO HOME." The political climate is souring by the minute. A menacing, electrified fence is erected across the common land near Wendy's home—a metaphor for the new national divisions that feels about as subtle as a brick through a window.
Wendy, who's had enough of this nonsense, ends up getting arrested for throwing a barometer at the electrified fence. She shorts the circuit and gets hauled off by the authorities. It's one of the few moments in the book that actually made me feel something—and on second reading, I found it genuinely hilarious. The image of this fed-up woman yeeting a barometer at a fence out of pure political rage is comedy gold that I completely missed the first time because I was too busy being confused.
Meanwhile, Elisabeth is also dealing with her career anxiety. She's a casual-contract lecturer, worried about losing her job as the humanities face ongoing cuts.
The Friendship: Elisabeth and Daniel
The heart of the book is the friendship between Elisabeth and Daniel, which begins when Elisabeth is eight years old. She has to do a school project where she writes a "portrait" of a neighbor. Her mother is dismissive of the eccentric old man next door, so Elisabeth just invents the interview.
Her mother, amused, shows the fabricated piece to Daniel, and this unexpectedly sparks a real connection between him and little Elisabeth. Daniel becomes her mentor and friend, taking her on walks, teaching her to see the world differently, and reinterpreting her surname from "Demand" to the more worldly "de monde" —"of the world." He introduces her to art, music, and poetry, playing imaginative games and describing paintings by a then-unknown female pop artist. In one memorable scene, he lets her throw his watch into a canal to prove that "time flies."
Elisabeth's mother, Wendy, suspects that the bond between her daughter and this old man is "unnatural" and forbids their meetings. Elisabeth secretly defies the ban after only three days.
The Pauline Boty Obsession
As a university student studying art history, Elisabeth rediscovers the artist Daniel had described: Pauline Boty, the only major female figure of the British pop-art movement. Boty's work was largely lost and forgotten after her premature death in 1966. Elisabeth recognizes the specific paintings from Daniel's childhood descriptions and, against her tutor's advice, decides to write her dissertation on Boty's work.
Convinced that Daniel must have known Boty personally, she visits him (now in his nineties) and shows him an exhibition catalogue. Daniel is visibly moved but deflects her questions. He says that the only time he was truly in love, it wasn't with a person—it was with Boty's way of seeing the world.
Elisabeth is deeply hurt by this comment. She feels he's denied the truth of their shared history and her own importance in it. This misunderstanding creates a rift that lasts a decade. She doesn't see him again until she learns he's moved into a care home.
The Subplots
Wendy's Romance: Elisabeth's mother, Wendy, finds unexpected happiness by starting a romance with Zoe Spencer-Barnes, a former child actor she meets while filming an episode of the antiques show The Golden Gavel. This subplot is weirdly charming and I appreciated it a lot more on the second read.
The Royalty Scheme: Elisabeth discovers that a song Daniel co-wrote in the 1960s, "Summer Brother Autumn Sister," is being used in a popular supermarket commercial. Seeing an opportunity to help with his mounting care-home fees, Elisabeth devises a plan. She poses as an agent from the fictional "Spencer-Barnes Agency" and calls the supermarket's marketing department, demanding royalty payments and threatening legal action for copyright infringement. It's one of the more entertaining parts of the book—and the sheer audacity of Elisabeth's scheme made me chuckle the second time around.
The Ending
After weeks of sitting by Daniel's silent bedside, reading to him and recounting her life, the care home calls Elisabeth with urgent news. Daniel has woken up, eaten a substantial lunch, and has been asking for her. Elisabeth rushes to The Maltings and enters his room to find him asleep again. A short while later, she finds him looking directly at her. Their exchange is simple and familiar, circling back to the question that has defined their friendship from the beginning: "What you reading?"
The novel closes as November arrives, the season turning definitively from autumn to winter. There's a final lyrical passage about fog, sycamore seeds, and a single rose still blooming in the cold. "But there are roses, there are still roses. In the damp and the cold, on a bush that looks done, there's a wide-open rose, still. Look at the colour of it."
🤔 My Thoughts: From 2 Stars to 3.5 Stars
The Weirdness Factor (The First Read vs. The Second)
I'm not going to pretend I suddenly love everything about this book. It's still confusing. The non-linear structure is still frustrating. The timeline jumps around so much that you need a PhD in literary analysis just to keep track of what's happening when.
But on a second reading, I realized something: you're not supposed to fight it. You're supposed to let it wash over you like a dream. Once I stopped demanding a straightforward plot and just let Smith's prose carry me along, I started noticing things I completely missed the first time.
The humor! I genuinely laughed out loud during the passport scene on my second read. The bureaucratic absurdity is funny if you're not too busy being annoyed about being confused.
The imagery! Smith's descriptions of Pauline Boty's art, of the changing seasons, of the rose blooming in the cold—they're genuinely beautiful.
The social commentary! The Brexit stuff didn't bore me as much the second time because I wasn't already exhausted from trying to figure out what was going on. I could actually engage with the themes.
What I Liked (Both Times)
The friendship between Elisabeth and Daniel is tender and unconventional, and those were the moments where the book came alive for me both times. When Daniel teaches little Elisabeth about art and language and seeing the world differently, those scenes are genuinely beautiful.
What I Still Don't Love
The intentional disorientation still feels like a bit of a cop-out sometimes. It's one thing to be experimental; it's another to make your readers work so hard that they can't even enjoy the story.
The Brexit stuff is still not my favorite, even though I appreciated it more the second time. It's important, sure, but it felt a bit heavy-handed.
The Revised Verdict
A second reading changed my perspective. I can now see what Smith was trying to do, and I respect it. The book is smarter than I gave it credit for. It's just... not always enjoyable to read.
But 3.5 stars feels right. It's a book that rewards patience and multiple readings. It's a book that's more about the experience than the plot. And once I stopped fighting that experience, I found a lot to appreciate.
📚 If You Liked This, Try These Instead
If you're looking for something with similar themes but a more accessible style, check out:
"Normal People" by Sally Rooney – For unconventional relationships and emotional depth, but with actual plot you can follow.
"My Year of Rest and Relaxation" by Ottessa Moshfegh – For weirdness that actually works, with dark humor and a clearer narrative.
"The Vanishing Half" by Brit Bennett – For exploring identity and division, but with a story you can actually track.
If you're ready to embrace the weirdness and want more experimental literary fiction:
"Lincoln in the Bardo" by George Saunders – A completely bonkers structure that somehow works beautifully.
"The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao" by Junot Díaz – Nonlinear, full of footnotes, and absolutely brilliant.
🎯 Final Verdict
3.5 out of 5 stars. ⭐⭐⭐✨
This book is not for everyone. If you love experimental fiction, non-linear narratives, and reading about Brexit while feeling like you're deciphering a puzzle, you might love this from the start. If you're like me and need a traditional plot to anchor yourself, you might hate it on the first read.
But here's the thing: give it a second chance. Let it be confusing. Let it be frustrating. Let it wash over you like autumn rain. Once you stop trying to control the experience, you might find something unexpectedly beautiful—a rose blooming in the cold, if you will.
The friendship between Elisabeth and Daniel is beautiful. The prose is stunning. The social commentary is sharp. The book is a mess—but a beautiful, intentional, messy work of art that I'm genuinely glad I revisited.
Just maybe read it twice. 😉
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