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““[A] brilliant debut…[Téa] Obreht is an expert at depicting history through aftermath, people through the love they inspire, and place through the stories that endure; the reflected world she creates is both immediately recognizable and a legend in its own right. Obreht is talented far beyond her years, and her unsentimental faith in language, dream, and memory is a pleasure.” – Publishers Weekly, starred review
There are so many sections of this novel that I would like to pull out individually and just carry around with me. Here is just one:
Eventually, my grandfather said: "You must understand, this is one of those moments."
"What moments?"
"One of those moments you keep to yourself," he said.
"What do you mean?" I said. "Why?"
"We're in a war," he said. "The story of this war - dates, names, who started it, why - that belongs to everyone. Not just the people involved in it, but the people who write newspapers, politicians thousands of miles away, people who've never even been here or heard of it before. But something like this - this is yours. It belongs only to you. And me. Only to us." He put his hands behind his back and ambled along slowly, kicking the polished tips of his shoes up as he walked, exaggerating the movements so they would slow him down. No thought of turning around, of going home. Down the Boulevard for as long as the elephant and his boy would tolerate us. My grandfather said: "You have to think carefully about where you tell it, and to whom. Who deserves to hear it? Your grandma? Zora? Certainly not that clown you carry on with at the docks." ...
... "Do you have stories like that?
"I do now."
"No, I mean from before," I said.
I saw him thinking about it. He thought for a long time while we walked with the elephant. Perhaps under slightly different circumstances, he might have told me about the tiger's wife. Instead, he told me about the deathless man.”
Angela H wrote this review Tuesday, April 19, 2011.
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