By Caryl Phillips
From the acclaimed writer of Cambridge comes an bold, officially creative, and extremely relocating evocation of the scattered offspring of Africa. It starts off in a yr of failing plants and determined foolishness, which forces a father to promote his 3 youngsters into slavery. making use of a super variety of voices and narrative suggestions, Caryl Phillips folows those exiles around the river that separates continents and centuries.
Phillips's characters contain a freed slave who trips to Liberia as a missionary within the 1830s; a pioneer girl looking shelter from the white man's justice at the Colorado frontier; and an African-American G.I. who falls in love with a white Englishwoman in the course of global battle II. jointly those voices make up a "many-tongued chorus" of universal memory—and essentially the most wonderful works of fiction ever to deal with the lives of black humans severed from their place of birth.
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Additional info for Crossing the River
There were no clocks in their hotel rooms, but Felix's mother said she could tell time by the flow of traffic on Eighth Avenue. fried on as though I'd been living there for months. For Christmas Felix had given_ his mother a copy o( Mrs. 'Arris Goes to Paris by- Paul Gallico, and she seemed to 'like the title of the book better than the book itself. After a few beers, she'd begin chanting the title like an incantation. Over and over, drawing it out long and full in her Iowa accent, she'd say, "Felix, honey, I just love that book you gave me for Christmas.
Eddie and I were close friends. Eddie was the kind of guy who would laugh at anything. He would buy an orange popside, eat half of it, and then instead of offering it to me or another friend,. he'd throw the other half in the sand and stamp on it and laugh. Another thing he laughed at~ was cars that got stuck in the sand, particularly those old double•ended Studebakers. He would stand there~ screaming with laughter, pointing at the back tires spinning i~ the sand. naked. lle ·little· punishlll,ent, nothing very big.
Told me never to bring. that Gray boy over again. What's the problem? What did you say fo him? '' Then a week later my mother said to me, "Oh, I saw Chad Oswald at a concert with his mother. rµe gal a real good husband. " Atthe time. I w~ getting straightE's in school. E was for failure, ~nd they wrote it in red. So I was tailing everything. I really wanted to transfer. into the automobile. that. I ended up in the business course, but J didn't do very well the~e either, since my gramma had always c:lon~·all my math homework.