BookBrowse Reviews Universality by Natasha Brown

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An exploration of journalism, truth, and fiction, Universality unravels the biases behind storytelling, exposing the blurred lines between narrative and reality in a fractured, post-pandemic society.

A bar of gold decorates banker Richard's farmhouse mantelpiece. The same also adorns the cover of Natasha Brown's second novel, a reference to the object that sets the story in motion. Universality begins with a long-winded fictional article published in the also fictional Alazon magazine in June 2021, a little over a year after the Covid-19 pandemic began. Ostensibly, it recounts an attempted murder at a rave on a rural English farm (Richard's) during lockdown where the gold bar is used as a weapon, an incident that links "an amoral banker, an iconoclastic columnist, and a radical anarchist movement." But beyond the event itself, the piece intends to expose the seams of British society. As its author states, "a modern parable lies beneath, exposing the fraying fabric of British society, worn thin by late capitalism's relentless abrasion." While compelling, this seems too explicit for the first page of the novel. This over-explaining to the reader is the biggest problem in Universality.

In the opening section, Brown adopts the conventions of New Journalism (see Beyond the Book), employing literary techniques to the telling of reality, and therefore blending truth and fiction. Despite the genre's flexibility, the article's voice can feel overly present and judgmental, too opinionated in its assessment of its subjects. But as the novel progresses, it becomes evident that these flaws are intentional. The second part introduces us to Hannah, the journalist behind the article, whose biases and worldview mirror the piece she has written. This metatextual game is one of Universality's greatest achievements, perhaps because it is one of the few things not spelled out for the reader.

Brown doesn't limit the narrative to Hannah's perspective. After the article, the novel fragments into short sections that reveal how the piece came to be, its impact on those involved, and the actual "truths" behind it. Hannah, for instance, is not as incisive or successful as her writing suggests; Richard, the banker, is not as amoral as it might have seemed. This cause-and-effect approach reflects Brown's technical background—she studied mathematics at university and worked in finance—while the themes explored, or rather outlined, align with her debut novel, Assembly.

Published in 2021, Assembly was met with critical acclaim, with nominations for the Goldsmiths Prize, the Folio Prize, and the Orwell Prize for Political Fiction. In it, Brown explored gender, power, class, and social structures—topics that remain central in Universality. And as in Assembly, Brown employs a minimalist style here, though perhaps to an excessive degree. Her economy of language creates a sense of detachment, leaving many themes underexplored or barely dealt with.

One notable omission is the perspective of the anarchist movement that the article claims is central to the story. While we hear from Hannah, Richard, and the "iconoclastic journalist" Lenny, none of the anarchists featured in the article receive their own section afterwards. Lenny's sections, uniquely written in the first person, contrast with the third-person perspectives of Hannah and Richard. This distinction makes sense; Lenny appears to be the one orchestrating events. Brown stated in an interview with The Bookseller that she was interested in examining "people who use words—people who are very good at using words—for profit, to change people's minds, to create narratives." The novel thus deals with journalism as a genre, but also as a profession in decline, mirroring broader societal shifts.

Yet Lenny's first-person perspective does not make her a more reliable character. If anything, Universality is a novel about ambiguity. In the article, she is framed as a right-wing intellectual—her most recent book titled No-Mo' Woke. In the sections devoted to her, however, she appears to have shifted leftward since then, adapting her rhetoric to appeal to a broader audience. She moves fluidly between ideological positions, shaping her discourse to achieve a kind of universality.

The concept of universality, its many layers and interpretations, is at the center of this novel from its very title. There is an anarchist movement called "Universalist" to signal inclusivity; a journalist trying to appeal to a universal audience; a question of what remains universal in an era of identity politics and globalization; and an overall story that, while rooted in Britain's media and political landscape (with mentions of The Guardian and sections named after real places in England), can resonate across the Western world.

However, while the novel brims with ideas, its plot ultimately falters. The first section is compelling, but as the book progresses, it becomes more tell than show, with little to drive the narrative forward. What begins as an engaging literary puzzle ends up feeling static, leaving the reader with a collection of interesting concepts rather than a fully realized story.

This review first ran in the March 12, 2025 issue of BookBrowse Recommends.