Lost Children Archive
A novel
(Sprache: Englisch)
NEW YORK TIMES 10 BEST BOOKS OF THE YEAR An epic road trip [that also] captures the unruly intimacies of marriage and parenthood ... This is a novel that daylights our common humanity, and challenges us to reconcile our differences. ...
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NEW YORK TIMES 10 BEST BOOKS OF THE YEAR An epic road trip [that also] captures the unruly intimacies of marriage and parenthood ... This is a novel that daylights our common humanity, and challenges us to reconcile our differences. The Washington PostOne of The Atlantic s Great American Novels of the Past 100 Years
In Valeria Luiselli s fiercely imaginative follow-up to the American Book Award-winning Tell Me How It Ends, an artist couple set out with their two children on a road trip from New York to Arizona in the heat of summer. As the family travels west, the bonds between them begin to fray: a fracture is growing between the parents, one the children can almost feel beneath their feet.
Through ephemera such as songs, maps and a Polaroid camera, the children try to make sense of both their family s crisis and the larger one engulfing the news: the stories of thousands of kids trying to cross the southwestern border into the United States but getting detained or lost in the desert along the way.
A breath-taking feat of literary virtuosity, Lost Children Archive is timely, compassionate, subtly hilarious, and formally inventive a powerful, urgent story about what it is to be human in an inhuman world.
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Part IFamily Soundscape
Relocations
An archive presupposes an archivist, a hand that collects and classifies.
Arlette Farge
To leave is to die a little.
To arrive is never to arrive.
Migrant prayer
Departure
Mouths open to the sun, they sleep. Boy and girl, foreheads pearled with sweat, cheeks red and streaked white with dry spit. They occupy the entire space in the back of the car, spread out, limbs offering, heavy and placid. From the copilot seat, I glance back to check on them every so often, then turn around again to study the map. We advance in the slow lava of traffic toward the city limits, across the GW Bridge, and merge onto the interstate. An airplane passes above us and leaves a straight long scar on the palate of the cloudless sky. Behind the wheel, my husband adjusts his hat, dries his forehead with the back of his hand.
Family Lexicon
I don t know what my husband and I will say to each of our children one day. I m not sure which parts of our story we might each choose to pluck and edit out for them, and which ones we ll shuffle around and insert back in to produce a final version even though plucking, shuffling, and editing sounds is probably the best summary of what my husband and I do for a living. But the children will ask, because ask is what children do. And we ll need to tell them a beginning, a middle, and an end. We ll need to give them an answer, tell them a proper story.
The boy turned ten yesterday, just one day before we left New York. We got him good presents. He had specifically said:
No toys.
The girl is five, and for some weeks has been asking, insistently:
When do I turn six?
No matter our answer, she ll find it unsatisfactory. So we usually say something ambiguous, like:
Soon.
In a few months.
Before you know it.
The girl is my daughter and the boy is my husband s son. I m a biological mother to one, a stepmother to the other, and a de facto mother in
... mehr
general to both of them. My husband is a father and a stepfather, to each one respectively, but also just a father. The girl and boy are therefore: step-sister, son, stepdaughter, daughter, step-brother, sister, stepson, brother. And because hyphenations and petty nuances complicate the sentences of everyday grammar the us, the them, the our, the your as soon as we started living together, when the boy was almost six and the girl still a toddler, we adopted the much simpler possessive adjective our to refer to them two. They became: our children. And sometimes: the boy, the girl. Quickly, the two of them learned the rules of our private grammar, and adopted the generic nouns Mama and Papa, or sometimes simply Ma and Pa. And until now at least, our family lexicon defined the scope and limits of our shared world.
Family Plot
My husband and I met four years ago, recording a soundscape of New York City. We were part of a large team of people working for the New York University s Center for Urban Science and Progress. The soundscape was meant to sample and collect all the keynotes and the soundmarks that were emblematic of the city: subway cars screeching to a halt, music in the long underground hallways of Forty-Second Street, ministers preaching in Harlem, bells, rumors and murmurs inside the Wall Street stock exchange. But it also attempted to survey and classify all the other sounds that the city produced and that usually went by, as noise, unnoticed: cash registers opening and closing in delis, a script being rehearsed in an empty Broadway theater, underwater currents in the Hudson, Canada geese flocking and shitting over Van Cortlandt Park, swings swinging in Astoria playgrounds, elderly Korean women filing wealthy fingernails on the Upper West Side, a fire breaking th
Family Plot
My husband and I met four years ago, recording a soundscape of New York City. We were part of a large team of people working for the New York University s Center for Urban Science and Progress. The soundscape was meant to sample and collect all the keynotes and the soundmarks that were emblematic of the city: subway cars screeching to a halt, music in the long underground hallways of Forty-Second Street, ministers preaching in Harlem, bells, rumors and murmurs inside the Wall Street stock exchange. But it also attempted to survey and classify all the other sounds that the city produced and that usually went by, as noise, unnoticed: cash registers opening and closing in delis, a script being rehearsed in an empty Broadway theater, underwater currents in the Hudson, Canada geese flocking and shitting over Van Cortlandt Park, swings swinging in Astoria playgrounds, elderly Korean women filing wealthy fingernails on the Upper West Side, a fire breaking th
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Autoren-Porträt von Valeria Luiselli
Valeria Luiselli was born in Mexico City and grew up in South Korea, South Africa, and India. An acclaimed writer of both fiction and nonfiction, she is the author of the essay collection Sidewalks; the novels Faces in the Crowd and The Story of My Teeth; and, most recently, Tell Me How It Ends: An Essay in Forty Questions. She is the recipient of a MacArthur “Genius Grant”; the winner of two Los Angeles Times Book Prizes, an American Book Award, and the 2021 Dublin Literary Award; and has been nominated for the National Book Critics Circle Award twice and the Kirkus Prize on three occasions. She has been a National Book Foundation “5 Under 35” honoree and the recipient of a Bearing Witness Fellowship from the Art for Justice Fund. Her work has appeared in The New York Times, Granta, and McSweeney’s, among other publications, and has been translated into more than twenty languages. She lives in New York City.
Bibliographische Angaben
- Autor: Valeria Luiselli
- 2020, 384 Seiten, Maße: 13,3 x 20 cm, Kartoniert (TB), Englisch
- Verlag: VINTAGE
- ISBN-10: 0525436464
- ISBN-13: 9780525436461
- Erscheinungsdatum: 21.01.2020
Sprache:
Englisch
Pressezitat
ONE OF THE BEST BOOKS OF THE YEAR: THE WASHINGTON POST TIME MAGAZINE NPR CHICAGO TRIBUNE GQ O, THE OPRAH MAGAZINE THE GUARDIAN VANITY FAIR THE ATLANTIC THE WEEK THE DALLAS MORNING NEWS LIT HUB KIRKUS REVIEWS THE NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY BOSTON.COM PUREWOWONE OF BARACK OBAMA'S FAVORITE BOOKS OF THE YEAR
WINNER OF THE ANDREW CARNEGIE MEDAL FOR EXCELLENCE IN FICTION
WINNER OF THE FOLIO PRIZE
FINALIST FOR THE NATIONAL BOOK CRITICS CIRCLE AWARD
FINALIST FOR THE KIRKUS PRIZE FOR FICTION
LONGLISTED FOR THE BOOKER PRIZE
LONGLISTED FOR THE ASPEN WORDS LITERARY PRIZE
Impossibly smart, full of beauty, heart and insight. Everyone should read this book.
Tommy Orange, author of There There
A Great American Novel for our time.
Vanity Fair
Unforgettable, down to its explosive final sentence. . . . [Luiselli] audaciously stretches the bounds of storytelling.
Entertainment Weekly
Virtuosic. . . . The brilliance of the writing stirs rage and pity. It humanizes us.
The New York Times Book Review
This is a novel that challenges us, as a nation, to reconcile our differences. . . . [The] writing shimmers like its desert setting.
The Washington Post
Electric, elastic, alluring, new.
The New York Times
A remarkable feat of empathy.
NPR
[A] brilliantly intricate and constantly surprising book.
The New Yorker
[Luiselli s] language is so transporting, it stops you time and again.
O, The Oprah Magazine
Like all great novels. . . . Lost Children Archive is unquestionably timely, [but] it also approaches a certain timelessness.
Los Angeles Times
Stunning. . . . Uniquely rewarding and even life-changing.
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The Seattle Times
Delicate, funny, effortlessly poetic.
The Guardian
Passionate.
The New York Review of Books
Rollicking. . . A highly imaginative and politically deft portrait of childhood within a vast American landscape.
Harper s Magazine
Delicate, funny, effortlessly poetic.
The Guardian
Passionate.
The New York Review of Books
Rollicking. . . A highly imaginative and politically deft portrait of childhood within a vast American landscape.
Harper s Magazine
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