Booker Prize Spotlight: Susan Choi’s ‘Flashlight’ and Zadie Smith’s Stance on Artistic Freedom

The literary world is abuzz in early 2026, with the prestigious Booker Prize once again at the forefront of both artistic celebration and crucial cultural discourse. On one hand, Susan Choi’s monumental novel, Flashlight, has earned a coveted spot on the 2025 Booker Prize shortlist, cementing her reputation as one of contemporary fiction’s most daring and intellectually versatile voices. On the other, the influence of Booker-recognized authors extends beyond the page, as evidenced by the recent controversy surrounding the Adelaide Writers’ Week, where Booker-shortlisted British author Zadie Smith took a principled stand against censorship.

Choi’s Flashlight, already longlisted for the National Book Award, is being hailed as a profound page-turner that challenges readers to shift their perspectives on life. The novel, lauded by critics for its immersive scope and stylistic ambition, weaves an intensely personal family mystery with centuries-spanning geopolitical currents. Set against a backdrop ranging from the United States to Japan and the Korean Peninsula, the narrative opens in 1978 with a hauntingly enigmatic event: Serk, a Korean-Japanese academic, disappears during a twilight walk with his ten-year-old daughter, Louisa, on a beach. Louisa is found soaked and barely conscious the next day, while Serk is presumed drowned. This startling prologue propels readers into a sprawling, multi-generational saga that interrogates not just the mystery of Serk’s disappearance, but the deeper fissures buried beneath the surface of personal and collective histories.

Louisa and her American mother, Anne, grapple with the profound emotional fallout of that night, each haunted by loss, ambiguity, and the persistent, gnawing question: What truly happened to Serk? Choi, widely acclaimed for her 2019 National Book Award-winning novel Trust Exercise, broadens her canvas significantly in Flashlight. She delves into complex themes of identity, trauma, cultural displacement, and the persistent shadows of history through a richly textured narrative that spans decades and continents. The geopolitical dimensions of Flashlight are as compelling as its domestic drama. Serk’s layered identity—Korean by heritage, Japanese by upbringing, and American by choice—reflects the tangled histories of migration, colonial rule, and ideological conflict. The novel touches on the fallout of postwar movements, Korean diaspora experiences, and the broader forces that shape personal destinies in ways that often defy simple explanation.

Critics have universally lauded Choi’s audacity in traversing such vast emotional and historical terrain. Major outlets have praised the novel’s immersive scope and stylistic ambition, describing Flashlight as a “captivating examination of family and belonging” with “gorgeous writing” and “a sweeping, multilayered story that moves through decades and across the globe.” While its nonlinear structure and rich density demand patience, attentive readers are profoundly rewarded by its rhythms and ambiguities. The novel’s highlights, for both individual readers and book clubs, include its richly drawn characters, its exploration of what it means to be adrift between cultures, and its unflinching confrontation with the unknowable aspects of human experience. Choi’s prose, at once exacting and poetic, underscores the emotional stakes of the story: how loss can distort memory, how identity can be reshaped by shifting circumstances, and how familial bonds can both sustain and betray.

As The Economic Times reported, Flashlight ultimately interrogates the instability of memory and the elusive nature of truth. Much like the beam of a flashlight that illuminates only fragments of a darkened room, Choi posits that personal and historical recollection is partial and provisional. Characters grapple with gaps in their own stories, struggling to piece together what was lost or left unsaid, even as the narrative ventures into the broader sweep of 20th-century political upheavals. The novel’s recognition by the Booker Prize underscores its profound relevance in a literary landscape often dominated by genre crossovers and quick fixes, standing out as an unhurried exploration of seeking light in history’s deepest darkness.

Meanwhile, the cultural influence of authors recognized by the Booker Prize was starkly demonstrated at the Adelaide Writers’ Week. The prestigious event, which draws dozens of local and international writers and over 160,000 attendees annually, found itself in disarray following a decision by its former board to uninvite Palestinian author Randa Abdel-Fattah. This move, made earlier this month over ‘cultural sensitivities’ following a December 14 Bondi attack, sparked widespread outrage and a mass exodus of talent.

Among the prominent figures who withdrew their participation was Booker Prize-shortlisted British author Zadie Smith, alongside former New Zealand prime minister Jacinda Ardern and a staggering 180 other writers. Even the British band Pulp, fronted by Jarvis Cocker, expressed its dismay, stating it was ‘appalled’ by the decision. Pulp, initially cancelling their appearance, issued a statement emphasizing, ‘We want to make it absolutely clear that Pulp refuse to condone the silencing of voices. We celebrate difference, and oppose censorship, violence and oppression in all its forms.’ This collective protest, as reported by 9News.com.au, ultimately led to the next month’s event being scrapped entirely, with the Adelaide Writers’ Week director, the former board chair, and three board members resigning.

The fallout spurred significant change. A new board was swiftly put in place, which promptly issued an apology to Abdel-Fattah and reinvited her to speak at next year’s event. This decisive action paved the way for Pulp to reverse its decision and agree to perform. ‘It is our understanding that the festival programmers are now acting in good faith,’ the band stated. ‘The festival board that made this dreadful decision have been replaced, and a full apology has been accepted by Randa Abdel-Fattah, who has been invited to appear next year.’ Given these developments, Pulp felt it could, in good conscience, honor its invitation, hoping their free concert would be an opportunity for different communities to come together in peace and harmony.

Abdel-Fattah, while accepting the board’s apology, noted that ‘Whilst AF’s statement acknowledges the harm done, it is not a quick fix to repair the damage and injury inflicted.’ The new board, acknowledging it had ‘fell well short’ of upholding intellectual and artistic freedom, vowed to honor the ‘powerful human right’ moving forward. The task now falls to them to restore public trust and repair the festival’s damaged reputation.

The Booker Prize, by recognizing and amplifying literary talent, inadvertently places its shortlisted and winning authors in a position of significant cultural influence. As demonstrated by Susan Choi’s ‘Flashlight,’ the prize highlights narratives that delve into profound human experiences and historical complexities. Simultaneously, the actions of authors like Zadie Smith at the Adelaide Writers’ Week underscore that literary recognition often comes with an implicit social responsibility, where the power of one’s voice can be leveraged to advocate for fundamental principles like artistic freedom and open dialogue, proving that the impact of the Booker Prize extends far beyond mere accolades.