Country #53: South Korea

I’m really looking forward to this one.

I’ve had some books on my radar from South Korean authors for a while, so I’m ready to dig in. Expect multiple reviews!

 

 

Reading Turks and Caicos: Looking Back in Salt Cay: Preserving Our Life, Our History, Our Legacy

I’ve been at this blog long enough to kind of predict my reading choices before I start research on a new country. When beachy island nations are on deck, it often means travel guides, or books written by expats or people passing through. Nothing wrong with any of that, but not quite what I’m looking for. But! Turks and Caicos delivers more!

Looking Back in Salt Cay: Preserving Our Life, Our History, Our Legacy¬†by Patronella “Peggy” Been is a personal, candid view into life on Salt Cay, one of the more lightly-inhabited islands in the Turks and Caicos group. It’s like a family conversation at Christmas about how life was back in the day, and just the kind of book I always hope to find. Getting a glimpse into the basics of real life – what the houses where like, what people ate, how they shopped, what toys the kids played with – doesn’t happen every day.

Salt Cay’s fortunes have changed over the last 40 years, and the author lives on one of the other islands now. It was hard to even find a usable (copyright matters, people!) photo of that island, so I chose one of the island I was supposed to visit earlier this year…so lovely!

 

Shore of North Caicos
Shore of North Caicos (image by Dirk 2112, via Wikimedia Commons)

 

 

Country #52: Turks and Caicos

Oh, Turks and Caicos. I had a trip planned to meet you earlier this year, tickets booked and everything…and ended up not going. Long story, and all is well, but I’m still wistful about it.

Reading about it won’t roll back the clock and get me on that plane, but hey – it’s still pretty nice.

 

 

Reading Jordan: Land of No Rain

I struggled with this book. Which is not a bad thing.

It felt incredibly remote and yet uncomfortably intimate, all at the same time. I felt like there was a bit of a desperate truth that was always just out my reach, hidden behind a layer of ice. The whole thing felt…distant. I sat for days with that, trying to make sense of it but kept drawing a blank.

I talked it out with someone who I very much respect and it all started to make sense. The story was about a man in exile, and what he goes through when he can finally make it home. People don’t call themselves exiles for happy reasons; if that word pops up, you have to know there is trauma somewhere close by.

The exile IS the thing, right? Can a narrator who has dealt with that, and has decided to brave returning to the scene of his pain, speak freely? Why would he even want to?¬†Do you deserve to know what he’s gone through? Could you even begin to understand?

The author, Amjad Nassar, is an accomplished novelist, travel writer, and poet. Finding that out after I read the book helped fit another piece of the puzzle; this is a translation from Arabic (by Jonathan Wright), and I’m now painfully aware that I don’t know the traditions of Arabic poetry. I could feel it flow through the prose, but it was an unfamiliar rhythm. More distance…

One of the points of this blog is to find exactly that space. We are molded by our language, the tales we hear as children, the things we read as we grow older. Those things literally form the way we think; I know I’ll never really be able to transcend my ingrained patterns, but my goal is to learn as much as I can about other ways of seeing this world. I’m thankful that books like this have been translated into English, so I have a path to walk.

Panorama of East Amman
Panorama of East Amman (image by Edgardo W. Olivera, via Wikimedia Commons)