Some months after returning home, after a grim year in hospitals in Rome and London, Hanif Kureishi begins to rebel. Not against his family, or the physical reality of being tetraplegic (and how could he?), but the liberal homogeneity of Shepherd’s Bush. He gets a diamond stud in his left ear at Westfield shopping centre, a piercing that enraged his father when he was 17. He sends off for a Maga cap and wears both to the farmers’ market, hoping for vitriol but getting nothing. “These quiescent scumbags only cared about themselves and their shopping,” he grumbles. “Being a fascist is far less thrilling than I imagined.”
Kureishi’s “re-punking” after decades in the metropolitan elite remains an ongoing project, just one response to his paralysis after a fall on Boxing Day 2022. His memoir Shattered was written in the long shock of that severance from a former life, which left him with no movement in his hands or legs, “a Beckettian chattering mouth”.
