There is little new to learn about the immigrant experience in Small Worlds. It does not explore unfamiliar, unknown ground. The protagonist has no dreams for his future that isn’t experienced in many coming of age stories. The protagonist, Stephen, born in England to Ghanian parents, articulates a story universal to immigrants everywhere in the world. He wants to find his place in the world where he is accepted and free to be himself.
However, what sets it apart from other similar stories is how it is absorbed through the senses. I would describe it as an exquisite meditation on the immigrant experience. While at times the language was over the top, for the most part I felt I was like I was in a boat, gently rocked through rich imagery and the distinctive repetition of a ballad.

Small Worlds by Caleb Azumah Nelson. Grove Atlantic July 2022
As the book opens, Stephen is on the cusp of change. As is common his Ghanian father has specific expectations for him. He emigrated with his own big dreams that were crushed by typical impediments. He transferred his hopes to his son, perhaps altered as he accommodated his expectations to the reality of being an outsider.
Stephen has had a happy life. He grows up in an insular Ghanian community in the Peckham neighborhood of London. It is deeply entrenched in the rituals, traditions, food and dancing of Ghana. When together, there is joy and deep bonds. These strong and loving connections of friends and extended family were critical to negotiate the disappointments, poverty, and prejudice experienced in their new homeland. Their goals are transferred to their children.
Stephen grows up feeling safe, if not somewhat insecure, within this net. He is all about music and dancing. Dancing frees him and gives him happiness to his core. He is a musician, a trumpeter, who hopes to win a scholarship to study and make music his life’s work.
When his dream deflates, the story begins to take shape. He leaves the girl he loves to go to university to study the accounting mandated by his father and is ill equipped to succeed in this unfamiliar world. The first time away from what he knows and loves, unable to connect to this course of study, make friends, or keep his girl who by the way did get that music scholarship.
Told in three parts, we journey with Stephen as he flounders. Heartbroken, disillusioned, disconnected and at risk of violence as a black man in England, we travel with Stephen back to his old neighborhood and then to Ghana, to explore his roots. This is a grounding experience for him that helps him upon his return.
It is not a novel with much action. In fact, it is extremely slow moving and at times repetitive. But I was sucked in by the beautiful language.
A description of his grief:
The mourning is immediate. I open my mouth to call for someone but there is no voice, no rhythm, no music. I open my mouth to call for someone, but there is no one there to tend my grief. I open my mouth to call for someone but the world is quiet now. I’m all alone.
Admittedly, I was disadvantaged because there was reference on almost every page to songs I was mostly unfamiliar with. If the reader knows the music, they would really be in tune with Stephen’s emotions enriching the reading experience.
Although the narrative is tightly focused, the political racial reality seeps in. Most obviously in the police murder of Mark Duggan in 2011 and the bloody protests and police violence that followed. The prejudice is there throughout but only to make you aware of that additional dimension of struggle.
If you are in the mood to slow down, this is a fascinating read. The emphasis is put on the repetitive day to day rather than the big events. While the reader will savor in detail and almost be able to smell Stephen’s mother cooking favorite dishes later replicated by her son, an event that turns the story may be reduced to a paragraph.
The author, Caleb Azumah Nelson, has already won many honors. His short story, “Pray,” was shortlisted for the BBC National Short Story Award and his debut novel, Open Water, won the Costa First Novel Award, the British Book Award for Debut Fiction. In an interview last month in Open County Mag, he said, “I wanted to take my sentences past this thing of knowledge and more toward feeling.” Indeed he does.