rounded downwards. I enjoyed this slightly less than Nelson's debut novel Open Water, from which Small Worlds felt like a natural progression. It's clear that he's growing as a novelist while maintaining the core features of what worked so well for him last time, but he threw in too many discordant elements this time, signaling his wider and deeper ambitions.

Your support changes lives. Find out how you can help us help more people by signing up for a subscription Like Open Water, Small Worlds isn't just a book, just a novel. It's a playlist, a poem, a song. It's a work of art, a place you want to disappear into. For anyone worried that Small Worlds won't be as good as Open Water, let me reassure you. It's just as good. Caleb Azumah Nelson is so incredibly talented that reading his writing feels like looking directly into the sun. If I ever become half as good of a writer as Caleb Azumah Nelson is, I'll die happy. Small Worlds is more than the sum of its parts; it's a masterpiece. I teared up multiple times from how palpably lyrical the prose is. Five stars don't do this book justice. British-Ghanaian writer Caleb Azumah Nelson’s debut novel Open Water was a slam dunk. The South Londoner’s ode to music, aspiration and love met with instant hyperbolic praise, and his trophy cabinet (every young writer has one of course) heaved under the weight of numerous awards. Not one to hang about, just two years later the 29-year-old is publishing his much anticipated follow-up.

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And, well, I liked it, I guess, but I wasn’t in love. Nelson did showcase more of his potent nature, but there was also disappointing filler. So, you can say I am in two worlds when it comes to this one. To deepen the portrayal of his characters, Nelson relies mostly on reportage. Del has been shaped by being an orphan. “Her life is informed by loss but because she’s lost, she loves freely, openly, with all she can.” We’re told that music is key to understanding Del’s character, but the author offers little to fire our imagination that how she plays the double bass, for example, might be a manifestation of her grief. But this new book isn’t about a photographer. It’s about a musician, Stephen, and we follow him through three summers with perhaps the main focus being Stephen’s developing relationship with Del. Stephen has only ever known himself in song. But what becomes of him when the music fades? When his father begins to speak of shame and sacrifice, when his home is no longer his own? How will he find space for himself: a place where he can feel beautiful, a place he might feel free?

SMALL WORLDS is a miracle of observation, of attention and attunement. Caleb Azumah Nelson writes prose that is unmatched in its musicality and sensitivity. A gorgeous, rhapsodic, wise novel.' KATIE KITAMURA, author of INTIMACIES As we were playing, my fingers slipped, an odd note coming from my horn. The mistake didn’t go unnoticed, but we continued on. It made me grateful for the freedom to be in that space, to make a mistake; and how that mistake might be beautiful to the right ear; how Del heard that odd note and followed with her own, adjusting her thrum; how the rest of us followed that twist and shift, surrendering to whatever unknown we were going towards. It was there that I noticed I only really knew myself in song. In the quiet, in the freedom, in the surrender.” Honestly though, the whole book is relatable, because Nelson knows how to write. Even the London and Accra settings were so vivid that I felt like I was there myself. I haven't been to Accra yet, but boy, do I want to. There are actual songs inside too, they show up often, as does dancing. I'm a dancer and when a book starts with dancing and has it as a central theme throughout...well, I'm sold.

Thank you to Grove Atlantic and NetGalley for providing this ARC in exchange for my honest opinion. I couldn't be more grateful that I got to be one of the first reviewers. I’ve only know myself in song, between notes, in that place where language won't suffice but the drums might, might speak for us, might speak for what is on our hearts, and in this moment, as the music gahers pace, looping round once more, passing frenzy, approaching ecstasy, all my dance moves are my father's”

Now that could make for interesting concept: A young protagonist torn between his own world - a relatable position, as we all try to build a place where we can thrive with the ones we love and feel ourselves - and the world around him. But nothing here is worked through in a stringent manner, it's a text heavily reliant on moody writing and heavy-handed plot points that treat small and big tragedies alike. Let's take Stephen's attempt to go to university: He feels lonely and out of place, and it's depicted like a Shakespearean plight. So the reader wonders: Why doesn't he act and try to make friends? Why the self-pity? And plot holes abound: When Stephen is so passionate about music, why do we hardly hear that he plays the trumpet, that he works towards performing, that he hangs out with bands, etc.?Now here’s the thing, this book did not cohesively come together for me. In a nutshell, there are two main plots: 1) Stephen’s romance with Del 2) Stephen’s relationship to his parents and their immigrant story. The sad thing is that one story is more successful (and interesting) than the other. And the writing for these two was like night and day. When I wrote my review of Open Water, I said it was like listening to a song and feeling all kinds of emotions without hearing the words. And precisely the same happened to me while reading Small Worlds. Music is a significant theme in this story, and the words and sentences in Small Worlds dance together in a harmonious rhythm in highs and lows. I love this kind of writing, and I can completely drown in it, but to be honest, I need a little bit more to love a story fully. In this case, I found the pacing too slow, and too little happened on my journey through Stephen’s life while, at the same time, I gobbled up those beautiful sentences.

C.A. Nelson weaved a wonderful mosaic of rhythm and blues suffused with a vibrating excitement between memory and present. That said, the story didn’t have the punch of his previous work ( Open Water). Perhaps I was expecting something even more penetrating on immigrant struggle , ethnic diversity, or racial issues. The last section tied most of the story together but unfortunately felt hurried. The narrative although expressive, at times was crumbling and repetitive (poetic license?), and the prose seemed forced, convoluted in an maze of words that tried to dazzle but in the end missed the point. As for London I have relatives there (coincidentally the south-east) and that was where I spent my summers so those parts scratched a specific itch in my brain. Small worlds follows Stephen as he journeys through summers in London and Ghana, relationships blossoming and unravelling, faith, trauma, grief and rhythm. This novel was one that I adored for so many reasons. A love story that expands beyond two people, the familial exploration of trauma and expectation and the art of dance and music as a reflection of the rhythm of life, loss and emotion. Words simply do not suffice for the rawness of Small Worlds and the exploration of how we find pleasure and joy in the simplicity of our own tiny universes and how at times that is, and isn't enough for us.I am so thrilled I overcame my hesitation. Once again, I am in love. I am also in awe of Nelson’s ability to write such a compelling story and develop his central character with such richness and honesty, without ever sacrificing his gorgeous lyrical language. It’s quite poetic without ever being flouncy. As well as these themes, racism and discrimination in the UK was a big factor of the novel. Introducing such imperative discussions and how it paired with Stephen's personal and familial trauma was so important. It's undoubtedly a novel that will spark so much emotion for all readers, and make us reflect about the space we all hold within our own 'Small Worlds' and society. All that being said, I didn’t find this book as compelling as Open Water. As I’ve already said, I found myself being distracted by repeating phrases and the very fact of that distraction indicates that I wasn’t fully engaged in the book: in a different context I would have noticed the repetition but I wouldn’t have felt the desire to count it. And the main story arc is fairly conventional and unsurprising which means the novel really stands or falls on the writing, which I simultaneously managed to admire and be slightly disengaged by. I didn’t feel like myself there. I didn’t like this me, who was insecure, and rarely at ease; who felt like he was living in a city with no community to lean on, no one to just spend some time with; who not knowing how to dismantle his loneliness, cocooned, retreated.”