The Window Seat

The Window Seat
Автор книги: id книги: 2050608     Оценка: 0.0     Голосов: 0     Отзывы, комментарии: 0 2905,67 руб.     (28,86$) Читать книгу Купить и скачать книгу Купить бумажную книгу Электронная книга Жанр: Языкознание Правообладатель и/или издательство: Ingram Дата добавления в каталог КнигаЛит: ISBN: 9780802158598 Скачать фрагмент в формате   fb2   fb2.zip Возрастное ограничение: 0+ Оглавление Отрывок из книги

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Aminatta Forna is one of our most important voices and an international literary powerhouse. The Window Seat is the first collection of her acclaimed and influential essays. She has written for such publications as the Guardian , Freeman’s , Granta , The Nation , and The New York Review of Books , among others. She is currently Director and Chair of Poetics at Lannan Center for Poetics and Social Practice at Georgetown University. She has incredible connections in the literary and academic worlds, and we’ve already received glowing blurbs from Salman Rushdie, Aleksandar Hemon, Maaza Mengiste, and Chinelo Okparanta noting what a gifted essayist Forna is. We expect more high-profile blurbs. Forna’s essays are elegantly argued, finely written gems that remind us why she was a runner up for the Samuel Johnson Prize for The Devil that Danced on Water , and make an argument for a new cosmopolitanism that is a balm for our interconnected but extremely polarized world. Forna won the Windham Campbell Literature Prize for literary achievement, and her novel The Memory of Love won the Commonwealth Writers’ Prize for Best Book. The novel was also shortlisted for the Women’s Prize for Fiction, the International Dublin IMPAC Award, and the Warwick Prize for Writing. She has been a judge for the Women’s Prize for Fiction, the Samuel Johnson Prize, the Caine Prize, the Giller Prize, and the International Man Booker. In 2017, she was made an Officer of the Order of the British Empire. Forna’s last book, the novel Happiness , was a Sunday Times (UK) Best Book of the Year, a New York Times Editors’ Choice , and a Washington Independent Review of Books Favorite Book of the Year. Forna’s novel The Hired Man , was selected for several best of the year lists: NPR , San Francisco Chronicle , and Boston Globe , while The Memory of Love was an Indie Next List Notable selection and an Essence Book Club Pick. We expect similar extensive review coverage.

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Aminatta Forna. The Window Seat

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THE WINDOW SEAT

Ancestor Stones

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The last time I took a daytime flight over the Sahara was a few years ago on a return trip from Johannesburg. The moment we took off, the cabin staff toured the cabin and lowered the blinds. People found their headsets and turned on the screens in front of them. Light flared around the edges of the blinds and once, when I dared to raise mine over the Sahara, the light leapt in like a living creature. When I fly, I think of what a caveman would think if he saw this, or even knew that one day somebody would. I think of the generations in the not-so-distant past who never saw such a view. I think of those in the future who never will see that wonder which our generation’s wantonness with the world’s natural resources has made possible. The day will come when we will be nostalgic about flying. As incredible as that once seemed, the experience of having our travel curtailed by the pandemic of 2020 brought that feeling closer to many of us. One day this may be gone, sooner than we allowed ourselves to imagine.

Only in flight does one become aware of how much of the world has resisted humankind. The snow-filled corrugations of the mountain ranges of Central Europe, where it is impossible to know where one country ends and another begins. At such times, even the flight map which traces the path of the plane on the screen in front of you is as effective as pin the tail on the donkey. A ruffle of mountains falls, a new one rises. Once I imagined we must be flying over the Alps, though I think now it was the Massif Central, because a short time later, I looked down and saw the real Alps. I was entirely unprepared for their scale—they seemed to stretch upwards reaching not so much for the sky but as if to swat the plane out of it. I have skied on the Alps and I remember being awed by their beauty, but I could see only what filled the frame of my vision, which I realised, once I was flying over all 1,200 kilometres of them lying across eight countries, wasn’t very much at all.

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