Kiley Reid: ‘It’s common for the liberal élite to point at overtly racist behaviour and say ‘that’s not me’

Black readers and white readers seem to have reacted very differently to the character of Alix in particular. Why does she think that is? “For many Black readers, the experience of working in white spaces and developing the necessary patience and calculation to keep a job is very familiar. Alix becomes recognisable in a way that feels cathartic; it's often a feeling of, "Oh, I know this person." Many white readers, even those who enjoy the story, work overtime to point out Alix's flaws, potentially in a way that separates her from themselves. In art, in politics, in so many aspects of life, it's a very common response from the liberal élite to point at overtly racist behaviour and say, "I recognise this behaviour as bad, and therefore, it's not me, and there's no way that I could contribute to white supremacy."

Such a Fun Age is being made into a movie by Emmy winner Lena Waithe, with Reid as an executive producer. “Of course, so much of production is stalled because of Covid, but hopefully 2021 will bring changes that will allow for very exciting things to happen, ” she says, though she refuses to divulge who will play the principal characters. 

The death of George Floyd in May, and the subsequent galvanisation of the Black Lives Matter movement into something far bigger made the novel feel especially timely, even though Reid wrote it more than two years earlier. “Yes, I wrote the novel long before, but brutality against Black men has been happening for hundreds of years. On an even more simplistic level, I wouldn't say this novel is any more timely now than it would have been in the 1950s or 60s when most Black women were domestic workers. In some ways, tragic murders like these often bring people to Black art who would not have come upon it before. People often seek out art in times of confusion and pain. Positively, readers may experience characters of races and classes they haven't read about before. Negatively, they may approach art as a pedagogical tool, seeking lessons in how to be a less racist person, as if it's an individual experience and choice.”

Reid, whose husband is white, grew up in Tucson, Arizona with parents who were “fairly wealthy” and who valued education, before moving to New York. Though she spent six years in her twenties nannying, she has said that in many respects she is more like the character of Alix than Emira, and believes people sometimes confuse issues of race with class.

“Race and class feed into each other and inform one another. However, I think there's a tendency among a certain element of our country to focus on race to the exclusion of class. If you're a wealthy liberal, decrying systemic racism can become a convenient way to ignore the type of changes that our society would need to actually address that racism - changes that would require you to give up some of your wealth and power.”

Reid studied acting at Marymount Manhattan College, followed by creative writing at the prestigious Iowa Writers’ Workshop, where she says she learned “the importance of deploying every characters' intelligence.

Currently researching her second novel, work is “a massive comfort” to get her through lockdown, her reading list includes Black Liberation and Socialism by Ahmed Shawki, The Torture Machine by Flint Taylor, and Rich People Things by Chris Lehmann.

Such a Fun Age by Kiley Reid  in paperback is out now (Bloomsbury, £8.99).

Read the exclusive extract:

Just as Emira decided to distance herself from the now three-year-old girl, to check Craigslist and Indeed every day, and to only apply for jobs that hired adults and offered very adult benefits, Mrs Chamberlain stepped in hard. The night at Market Depot had done something to her, and she tried to right the night’s wrongs with a forced casualness that made Emira quite cagey. Since that night, Mrs Chamberlain started returning home at six forty-five, sitting down across from Emira, and referencing conversations that they’d never had. “Emira, remind me what you majored in?” “Tell me where you live again?” “Did you say that you had any allergies?” The timing couldn’t have been worse. These were the questions you asked at the beginning, and not at what Emira was trying to make the end. But for a part-time gig, the money was decent, making it difficult to get excited about potential jobs that offered less money and zero Briar. Every other Friday, Alix handed Emira an envelope with six hundred seventy-two dollars inside.

Two weeks after the night at Market Depot, this envelope felt particularly fat. On the front porch, underneath a flushed sunset, Emira peeked inside the envelope flap to reveal twelve hundred dollars in cash. A small note on thick card stock was paper clipped to the two-hundred dollar bills with Alix’s brilliant handwriting on one side.

Emira—, it read.

This is for the past two weeks, Briar’s birthday, and the awful night when you completely saved us. Thank you for everything. We love having you and we’re here for you.

Xo, P,A,B&C.

Emira looked down the street, She laughed, whispered “Fuck,” and immediately purchased her first leather jacket.

The subway was packed. Emira was pleasantly late to meet Zara, Shaunie and Josefa for a dinner, followed by drinks, followed by all the other practices of twenty-somethings in the nighttime. Everything she wore looked shiny next to her new jacket. It was black with asymmetric zip fastening and was cropped just above her hip. The belt hung effortlessly at her sides, and she let the silver zippers sit open at her forearms. Emira’s jacket came in at two hundred thirty-four dollars, making it the biggest purchase she’d ever made other than her bed frame and laptop. With one hand holding the subway pole, and the other texting Zara that she was on her way, Emira found it both funny and sad that she could feel so cheap in the most expensive thing she owned. She turned her earbuds up loud and balanced into the subway’s turns…

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