Eden McKenzie-Goddard’s warm and tender debut novel, “Smallie,” sheds light on the profound personal impact of the Windrush scandal. The story centers on Lucinda, a woman born in Barbados, whose family must navigate the complex process of documenting her decades of life in Britain after the Home Office threatens her with deportation.
The novel critically examines a specific form of British cruelty, one that often operates under a veneer of politeness. The Windrush scandal, which came to light in 2018, starkly illustrated this: rather than overt chaos, it revealed a system of cold, clinical decisions that systematically stripped Black and brown individuals of their sense of belonging through bureaucratic means. While this scandal has become a part of the national narrative, often discussed in abstract terms or as a cautionary tale, the deeply personal and textured harm it inflicted, and how intricate lives were reduced to mere paperwork, can sometimes be overlooked.
“Smallie” by Eden McKenzie-Goddard, a poignant debut, makes it its mission to restore the humanity of the Windrush generation immigrants who were effectively erased by official language and policy. The narrative reaches back decades to 1961, when a 19-year-old Lucinda Brown departed Barbados for England. Her quest was to find Clarence Braithwaite, the jazz musician who had fathered her child and then vanished into the promises of Britain, leaving the child in the care of Lucinda’s family. During her voyage across the sea, Lucinda encounters Raldo, a charismatic Trinidadian, described as “the type of man women slap each other to point out.” His effortless charm hints at a life lived with greater freedom.
English Translation:
In this warm and tender debut, the family of Barbados-born Lucinda must try to document her decades in Britain after the Home Office threatens her with deportation. There is a particular kind of British cruelty that thrives on politeness. The 2018 Windrush scandal exposed this in full: rather than chaos or spectacle, it revealed a machinery of clinical decisions that stripped Black and brown people of their belonging with bureaucratic precision. It is now part of our national story, often spoken of in the abstract or invoked as a cautionary tale. But what can be obscured, in this telling, is the texture of the harm, the way complicated lives were reduced to paperwork.
“Smallie,” Eden McKenzie-Goddard’s tender debut, insists on restoring the humanity of those Windrush-generation immigrants who were erased by official language. The story begins decades before, in 1961, when 19-year-old Lucinda Brown leaves Barbados for England, in search of Clarence Braithwaite, the jazz musician who fathered her child (who stays in the care of her family) and then disappeared into the promises of Britain. On the boat crossing she meets Raldo, a magnetic Trinidadian – “the type of man women slap each other to point out” – whose easy charm hints at a freer life.