On Beauty by Zadie Smith

seriously.
    â€˜What did she get – something lovely? Oh, that is lovely,’ said Claire as she approached, peering down at Kiki’s ankle. She tucked her tiny body into a cleft of Warren’s. Photographs elongated her, making her appear long and wiry, but in life this American poet was only five foot one and physically prepubescent, even now, at fifty-four. She was neatly made with the minimum of material. When she moved a finger, you could trace the motion through pulleys of veins that went all the way up her slender arms and shoulders to her neck, itself elegantly creased like the lungs of an accordion. Her elfin head with its inch of closely cropped brownhair fitted neatly into her lover’s hand. To Kiki they looked very happy – but what did that mean? Wellington couples had a talent for looking happy.
    â€˜Incredible day, isn’t it? We got back a week ago and it’s hotter here than it was there. The sun is a lemon today, it is . It’s like a huge lemon-drop. God , it’s incredible,’ said Claire, as Warren softly palpated the back of her skull. She was babbling a little; it always took her a minute or two to settle. Claire had been at graduate school with Howard, and Kiki had known her thirty years, but never had she felt that they knew each other well. They did not quite gel as friends. There was a part of Kiki that felt every meeting with Claire was like the first time all over again. ‘And you look marvellous!’ cried Claire now. ‘It’s so good to see you. What an outfit! It’s like a sunset – the red, the yellow, the orangey-brown – Keeks, you’re setting .’
    â€˜Honey,’ said Kiki, moving her head from side to side in a manner she understood white people enjoyed, ‘I done set already .’
    Claire made the jangle sound of laughter. Not for the first time, Kiki noted the implacable intelligence of her eyes, the way they did not indulge in the natural release of the act.
    â€˜Come on, walk with us,’ said Claire plaintively, putting Warren between herself and Kiki, as if he were their child. It was a strange way to walk – it meant they had to talk to each other over Warren’s body.
    â€˜OK – we got to keep an eye out for Jerome, though – he’s about. So how was Italy?’ asked Kiki.
    â€˜ Amazing . Wasn’t it incredible?’ said Claire, looking to Warren with an intensity that fulfilled Kiki’s hazy idea of how an artist should be: passionate, attentive, bringing her native enthusiasm to the smallest matters.
    â€˜Was it just a vacation?’ asked Kiki. ‘Weren’t you collecting a prize or –?’
    â€˜Oh, a silly . . . nothing, the Dante thing – but that’s not interesting – Warren spent the whole time in this rape field going crazy over this new theory about airborne pollutants from fields, GM fields – Kiki, my God  . . . unbelievable ideas he was having out there– he’s basically going to be able to prove definitively that there’s cross – cross – oh, God, cross-dissemination – insemination – you know what I mean – which is what this damn government has been lying through its teeth about – but it’s really the science that’s just –’ Here Claire made a noise and a gesture to signify the top of one’s head coming off, revealing the inner cranium to the universe. ‘Warren, tell Kiki about it – I get it all mixed up, but it’s absolutely phenomenal science – Warren?’
    â€˜It’s not really so fascinating,’ said Warren flatly. ‘We’re trying to find a way to pin down the government regarding these crops – a lot of the lab work has already been done, but it hasn’t been put together – just needs someone to harness the solid evidence – Oh, Claire, it’s too damn hot – boring