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ా Broché ࢘ Exit West: A Novel store ಇ ePUB By Mohsin Hamid ಗ

ా Broché ࢘ Exit West: A Novel store ಇ ePUB By Mohsin Hamid ಗ ా Broché ࢘ Exit West: A Novel store ಇ ePUB By Mohsin Hamid ಗ In a city swollen by refugees but still mostly at peace, or at least not yet openly at war, a young man met a young woman in a classroom and did not speak to her For many days His name was Saeed and her name was Nadia and he had a beard, not a full beard, a studiously maintained stubble, and she was always clad from the tips of her toes to the bottom of her jugular notch in a f lowing black robe Back then people continued to enjoy the luxury of wearing or less what they wanted to wear, clothing and hair wise, within certain bounds of course, and so these choices meant something It might seem odd that in cities teetering at the edge of the abyss young people still go to classin this case an evening class on corporate identity and product brandingbut that is the way of things, with cities as with life, for one moment we are pottering about our errands as usual and the next we are dying, and our eternally impending ending does not put a stop to our transient beginnings and middles until the instant when it does Saeed noticed that Nadia had a beauty mark on her neck, a tawny oval that sometimes, rarely but not never, moved with her pulse Not long after noticing this, Saeed spoke to Nadia for the first time Their city had yet to experience any major fighting, just some shootings and the odd car bombing, felt in ones chest cavity as a subsonic vibration like those emitted by large loudspeakers at music concerts, and Saeed and Nadia had packed up their books and were leaving class In the stairwell he turned to her and said, Listen, would you like to have a coffee, and after a brief pause added, to make it seem less forward, given her conservative attire, in the cafeteria Nadia looked him in the eye You dont say your evening prayers she asked Saeed conjured up his most endearing grin Not always Sadly Her expression did not change So he persevered, clinging to his grin with the mounting desperation of a doomed rock climber I think its personal Each of us has his own way Or her own way Nobodys perfect And, in any case She interrupted him I dont pray, she said She continued to gaze at him steadily Then she said, Maybe another time He watched as she walked out to the student parking area and there, instead of covering her head with a black cloth, as he expected, she donned a black motorcycle helmet that had been locked to a scuffed up hundred ish cc trail bike, snapped down her visor, straddled her ride, and rode off, disappearing with a controlled rumble into the gathering dusk The next day, at work, Saeed found himself unable to stop thinking of Nadia Saeeds employer was an agency that specialized in the placement of outdoor advertising They owned billboards all around the city, rented others, and struck deals for further space with the likes of bus lines, sports stadiums, and proprietors of tall buildings The agency occupied both floors of a converted townhouse and had over a dozen employees Saeed was among the most junior, but his boss liked him and had tasked him with turning around a pitch to a local soap company that had to go out by email before five Normally Saeed tried to do copious amounts of online research and customize his presentations as much as possible Its not a story if it doesnt have an audience, his boss was fond of saying, and for Saeed this meant trying to show a client that his firm truly understood their business, could really get under their skin and see things from their point of view But today, even though the pitch was importantevery pitch was important the economy was sluggish from mounting unrest and one of the first costs clients seemed to want to cut was outdoor advertisingSaeed couldnt focus A large tree, overgrown and untrimmed, reared up from the tiny back lawn of his firms townhouse, blocking out the sunlight in such a manner that the back lawn had been reduced mostly to dirt and a few wisps of grass, interspersed with a mornings worth of cigarette butts, for his boss had banned people from smoking indoors, and atop this tree Saeed had spotted a hawk constructing its nest It worked tirelessly Sometimes it floated at eye level, almost stationary in the wind, and then, with the tiniest movement of a wing, or even of the upturned feathers at one wingtip, it veered Saeed thought of Nadia and watched the hawk When he was at last running out of time he scrambled to prepare the pitch, copying and pasting from others he had done before Only a smattering of the images he selected had anything particularly to do with soap He took a draft to his boss and suppressed a wince while sliding it over But his boss seemed preoccupied and didnt notice He just jotted some minor edits on the printout, handed it back to Saeed with a wistful smile, and said, Send it out Something about his expression made Saeed feel sorry for him He wished he had done a better job As Saeeds email was being downloaded from a server and read by his client, far away in Australia a pale skinned woman was sleeping alone in the Sydney neighborhood of Surry Hills Her husband was in Perth on business The woman wore only a long T shirt, one of his, and a wedding ring Her torso and left leg were covered by a sheet even paler than she was her right leg and right hip were bare On her right ankle, perched in the dip of her Achilles tendon, was the blue tattoo of a small mythological bird Her home was alarmed, but the alarm was not active It had been installed by previous occupants, by others who had once called this place home, before the phenomenon referred to as the gentrification of this neighborhood had run as far as it had now run The sleeping woman used the alarm only sporadically, mostly when her husband was absent, but on this night she had forgotten Her bedroom window, four meters above the ground, was open, just a slit In the drawer of her bedside table were a half full packet of birth control pills, last consumed three months ago, when she and her husband were still trying not to conceive, passports, checkbooks, receipts, coins, keys, a pair of handcuffs, and a few paper wrapped sticks of unchewed chewing gum The door to her closet was open Her room was bathed in the glow of her computer charger and wireless router, but the closet doorway was dark, darker than night, a rectangle of complete darknessthe heart of darkness And out of this darkness, a man was emerging He too was dark, with dark skin and dark, woolly hair He wriggled with great effort, his hands gripping either side of the doorway as though pulling himself up against gravity, or against the rush of a monstrous tide His neck followed his head, tendons straining, and then his chest, his half unbuttoned, sweaty, gray and brown shirt Suddenly he paused in his exertions He looked around the room He looked at the sleeping woman, the shut bedroom door, the open window He rallied himself again, fighting mightily to come in, but in desperate silence, the silence of a man struggling in an alley, on the ground, late at night, to free himself of hands clenched around his throat But there were no hands around this mans throat He wished only not to be heard.With a final push he was through, trembling and sliding to the floor like a newborn foal He lay still, spent Tried not to pant He rose His eyes rolled terribly Yes terribly Or perhaps not so terribly Perhaps they merely glanced about him, at the woman, at the bed, at the room Growing up in the not infrequently perilous circumstances in which he had grown up, he was aware of the fragility of his body He knew how little it took to make a man into meat the wrong blow, the wrong gunshot, the wrong flick of a blade, turn of a car, presence of a microorganism in a handshake, a cough He was aware that alone a person is almost nothing The woman who slept, slept alone He who stood above her, stood alone The bedroom door was shut The window was open He chose the window He was through it in an instant, dropping silkily to the street below While this incident was occurring in Australia, Saeed was picking up fresh bread for dinner and heading home He was an independent minded, grown man, unmarried, with a decent post and a good education, and as was the case in those days in his city with most independent minded, grown men, unmarried, with decent posts and good educations, he lived with his parents Saeeds mother had the commanding air of a schoolteacher, which she formerly was, and his father the slightly lost bearing of a university professor, which he continued to bethough on reduced wages, for he was past the official retirement age and had been forced to seek out visiting faculty work Both of Saeeds parents, the better part of a lifetime ago, had chosen respectable professions in a country that would wind up doing rather badly by its respectable professionals Security and status were to be found only in other, quite different pursuits Saeed had been born to them late, so late that his mother had believed her doctor was being cheeky when he asked if she thought she was pregnant Their small flat was in a once handsome building, with an ornate though now crumbling facade that dated back to the colonial era, in a once upscale, presently crowded and commercial, part of town It had been partitioned from a much larger flat and comprised three rooms two modest bedrooms and a third chamber they used for sitting, dining, entertaining, and watching television This third chamber was also modest in size but had tall windows and a usable, if narrow, balcony, with a view down an alley and straight up a boulevard to a dry fountain that once gushed and sparkled in the sunlight It was the sort of view that might command a slight premium during gentler, prosperous times, but would be most undesirable in times of conflict, when it would be squarely in the path of heavy machine gun and rocket fire as fighters advanced into this part of town a view like staring down the barrel of a rifle Location, location, location, the realtors say Geography is destiny, respond the historians War would soon erode the facade of their building as though it had accelerated time itself, a days toll outpacing that of a decade When Saeeds parents first met they were the same age as were Saeed and Nadia when they first did The elder pairs was a love marriage, a marriage between strangers not arranged by their families, which, in their circles, while not unprecedented, was still less than common They met at the cinema, during the intermission of a film about a resourceful princess Saeeds mother spied his father having a cigarette and was struck by his similarity to the male lead in the movie This similarity was not entirely accidental though a little shy and very bookish, Saeeds father styled himself after the popular film stars and musicians of his day, as did most of his friends But Saeeds fathers myopia combined with his personality to give him an expression that was genuinely dreamy, and this, understandably, resulted in Saeeds mother thinking he not merely looked the part, but embodied it She decided to make her approach Standing in front of Saeeds father she proceeded to talk animatedly with a friend while ignoring the object of her desire He noticed her He listened to her He summoned the nerve to speak to her And that, as they were both fond of saying when recounting the story of their meeting in subsequent years, was that Saeeds mother and father were both readers, and, in different ways, debaters, and they were frequently to be seen in the early days of their romance meeting surreptitiously in bookshops Later, after their marriage, they would while away afternoons reading together in cafs and restaurants, or, when the weather was suitable, on their balcony He smoked and she said she didnt, but often, when the ash of his seemingly forgotten cigarette grew impossibly extended, she took it from his fingers, trimmed it softly against an ashtray, and pulled a long and rather rakish drag before returning it, daintily The cinema where Saeeds parents met was long gone by the time their son met Nadia, as were the bookshops they favored and most of their beloved restaurants and cafs It was not that cinemas and bookshops, restaurants and cafs had vanished from the city, just that many of those that had been there before were there no longer The cinema they remembered so fondly had been replaced by a shopping arcade for computers and electronic peripherals This building had taken the same name as the cinema that preceded it both once had the same owner, and the cinema had been so famous as to have become a byword for that locality When walking by the arcade, and seeing that old name on its new neon sign, sometimes Saeeds father, sometimes Saeeds mother, would remember, and smile Or remember, and pause Saeeds parents did not have sex until their wedding night Of the two, Saeeds mother found it uncomfortable, but she was also the keen, and so she insisted on repeating the act twice before dawn For many years, their balance remained thus Generally speaking, she was voracious in bed Generally speaking, he was obliging Perhaps because she did not, until Saeeds conception two decades later, get pregnant, and assumed therefore she could not, she was able to have sex with abandon, without, that is, thought of consequences or the distractions of child rearing Meanwhile his typical manner, throughout the first half of their marriage, at her strenuous advances, was that of a man pleasantly surprised She found mustaches and being taken from behind erotic He found her carnal and motivating After Saeed was born, the frequency with which his parents had sex dipped notably, and it continued to decline going forward A uterus began to prolapse, an erection became harder to maintain During this phase, Saeeds father started to be cast, or to cast himself, and often, as the one who tried to initiate sex Saeeds mother would sometimes wonder whether he did this out of genuine desire or habit or simply for closeness She tried her best to respond He would eventually come to be rebuffed by his own body at least as much as by hers In the last year of the life they shared together, the year that was already well under way when Saeed met Nadia, they had sex only thrice As many times in a year as on their wedding night But his father always kept a mustache, at his mothers insistence And they never once changed their bed its headboard like the posts of a banister, almost demanding to be gripped In what Saeeds family called their living room there was a telescope, black and sleek It had been given to Saeeds father by his father, and Saeeds father had given it in turn to Saeed, but since Saeed still lived at home, this meant the telescope continued to sit where it always sat, on its tripod in a corner, underneath an intricate clipper ship that sailed inside a glass bottle on the sea of a triangular shelf The sky above their city had become too polluted for much in the way of stargazing But on cloudless nights after a daytime rain, Saeeds father would sometimes bring out the telescope, and the family would sip green tea on their balcony, enjoying a breeze, and take turns to look up at objects whose light, often, had been emitted before any of these three viewers had been bornlight from other centuries, only now reaching Earth Saeeds father called this time travel On one particular night, though, in fact the night after he had struggled to prepare his firms pitch to the soap company, Saeed was absentmindedly scanning along a trajectory that ran below the horizon In his eyepiece were windows and walls and rooftops, sometimes stationary, sometimes whizzing by at incredible speed I think hes looking at young ladies, Saeeds father said to his mother Behave yourself, Saeed, said his mother Well, he is your son I never needed a telescope Yes, you preferred to operate short range.Saeed shook his head and tacked upward I see Mars, he said And indeed he did The second nearest planet, its features indistinct, the color of a sunset after a dust storm Saeed straightened and held up his phone, directing its camera at the heavens, consulting an application that indicated the names of celestial bodies he did not know The Mars it showed was detailed as well, though it was of course a Mars from another moment, a bygone Mars, fixed in memory by the applications creator In the distance Saeeds family heard the sound of automatic gunfire, flat cracks that were not loud and yet carried to them cleanly They sat a little longer Then Saeeds mother suggested they return inside When Saeed and Nadia finally had coffee together in the cafeteria, which happened the following week, after the very next session of their class, Saeed asked her about her conservative and virtually all concealing black robe If you dont pray, he said, lowering his voice, why do you wear it They were sitting at a table for two by a window, overlooking snarled traffic on the street below Their phones rested screens down between them, like the weapons of desperadoes at a parley She smiled Took a sip And spoke, the lower half of her face obscured by her cup So men dont fuck with me, she said.WINNER OF THE 2018 LOS ANGELES TIMES BOOK PRIZE FOR FICTION and THE ASPEN WORDS LITERARY PRIZE 10 BEST BOOKS OF 2017, NEW YORK TIMES BOOK REVIEW FINALIST FOR THE 2017 MAN BOOKER PRIZE, THE NATIONAL BOOK CRITICS CIRCLE AWARDS, and THE KIRKUS AWARD Hamid exploits fiction s capacity to elicit empathy and identification to imagine a better world It is also a possible world Exit West does not lead to utopia, but to a near future and the dim shapes of strangers that we can see through a distant doorway All we have to do is step through it and meet them Viet Thanh Nguyen, The New York Times Book Review cover In spare, crystalline prose, Hamid conveys the experience of living in a city under siege with sharp, stabbing immediacy He shows just how swiftly ordinary life with all its banal rituals and routines can morph into the defensive crouch of life in a war zone and how insidiously violence alters the calculus of daily life By mixing the real and the surreal, and using old fairy tale magic, Hamid has created a fictional universe that captures the global perils percolating beneath todays headlines Michiko Kakutani, New York TimesLyrical and urgent, the globalist novel evokes the dreams and disillusionments that follow Saeed and Nadia.and peels away the dross of bigotry to expose the beauty of our common humanity O, the Oprah MagazineA beautiful and very detailed look at what it means to be an immigrantAn incredible book Sarah Jessica Parker on Read it Forward A little like the eerily significant Margaret Atwood novel, this love story amid the rubble of violence, uncertainty, and modernity feels at once otherworldly and all too real New York Magazines The Strategist This is the best writing of Hamid s career Readers will find themselves going back and savoring each paragraph several times before moving on He s that good Breathtaking NPR.org Nearly every page reflects the tangible impact of life during wartimenot just the blood and gunsmoke of daily bombardments, but the quieter collateral damage that seeps in The true magic of Exit West is how it manages to render it all in a narrative so moving, audacious, and indelibly human Entertainment Weekly, A rating Hamid rewrites the world as a place thoroughly, gorgeously, and permanently overrun by refugees and migrants But, still, he depicts the world as resolutely beautiful and, at its core, unchanged The novel feels immediately canonical, so firm and unerring is Hamids understanding of our time and its most pressing questions NewYorker.com No novel is really about the cliche called the human condition, but good novels expose and interpret the particular condition of the humans in their charge, and this is what Hamid has achieved here If in its physical and perilous immediacy Nadia and Saeeds condition is alien to the mass of us, Exit Westmakes a final, certain declaration of affinity We are all migrants through time Washington PostSkillful and panoramic from the outset A meticulously crafted, ambitious story of many layers, many geopolitical realities, many lives and circumstancesHere is the world, he seems to be saying, the direction were hurtling in How are we going to mitigate the damage weve done The New York Review of Books Like the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, but set in the real world Youll be hearing about it, so get into it now TheSkimmSpellbinding BuzzfeedHamid graphically explores a fundamental and important ontological question Is it possible for us to conceive of ourselves at all, except in juxtaposition to an other What is remarkable about Hamids narrative is that war is not, in fact, able to marginalize the precious mundanity of everyday life Instead and herein lies Hamids genius as a storyteller the mundanity, the minor joys of life, like bringing flowers to a lover, smoking a joint, and looking at stars, compete with the horrors of war Los Angeles TimesIn an era when powerful ruling groups often in the minority are gripped by a sense of religious and ethnic nativism, Mohsin offers these two, the millions they represent, and us, comfort that plausible, desirable futures can be imagined, that new tribes may be formed, and that life will go on If we are looking for the story of our time, one that can project a future that is both bleak and hopeful than that which we can yet envision, this novel is faultless Boston Globe A slender treasure of a novel NPR s Book Concierge Terrifying, hopeful, and all too relevant People Magazine It was as if Hamid knew what was going to happen to America and the world, and gave us a road map to our future This book blew the top off my head Its at once terrifying and, in the end, oddly hopeful Ayelet Waldman, New York Times Book Review If there is one book everyone should read ASAP, it is Mohsin Hamids Exit WestShort, unsentimental, deeply intimate, and so very powerful Goop Spare and haunting, its magical realism meets the all too real W Magazine Taut but haunting Vanity Fair Powerfully evokes the violence and anxiety of lives lived under the drone crossed sky Time Magazine Hamids timely and spare new novel confronts the inevitability of mass global immigration, the unbroken cycle of violence and the indomitable human will to connect and love Huffington Post A great romance that is also a story of refugees this couldnt be timely Flavorwire Exit Westis a compelling read that will make you think about the times we are living in right now PopSugar Beautiful The Rumpus Eerily prescient Joyce Carol Oates, The New Yorker.com A thought experiment that pivots on the crucial figure of this century the migrant Hamids cautious, even fastidious prose makes the sudden flashes of social breakdown all the affectingEvading the lure of both the utopian and the dystopian, Exit Westmakes some rough early sketches of the world that must come if we or is it you are to avoid walling out the rest of the human race Financial Times Exit Westoperates on another plane Beautiful and poetic even at its most devastating Book Riot Raw, poetic, and frighteningly prescient BBC.com Timely and resonant Publisher s Weekly,Top 10 Most Anticipated Literary Fiction of 2017 Exit West by Mohsin Hamid Exit has , ratings and reviews Emily May said When we migrate, murder from our lives those leave behind I thought this book Wikipedia is a novel published in written Pakistani author Hamid It s fourth The main themes of the are emigration refugee problems Review In West, Mixes Global Feb EXIT WEST By pages Riverhead Books dynamic yet lapidary books have all explored convulsive changes overtaking world, as tradition modernity Book Review NPR Mar Book new imagines country, never specified, swollen with refugees an ongoing conflict series mysterious doors that A Novel IndieBound does not lead to utopia, but near future dim shapes strangers can see through distant doorway All do step it meet them Summary BookRags Immediately download summary, chapter analysis, notes, essays, quotes, character descriptions, lesson plans, everything you need for studying or teaching Finds Dystopia in Saeed Nadia, two central characters novel, at beginning book, night class on magical vision the about migration mutation, full wormholes rips reality, begins mostly doesn t go man woman evening corporate identity Study Guide LitCharts creators best study guide planet, SparkNotes Get summaries, quotes A About Refugees That Feels Instantly Canonical Jia Tolentino which he rewrites world place gorgeously, permanently overrun migrants Library Foundation Los Angeles New York Times bestselling returns ALOUD discuss his latest visionary love story forces drive ordinary people their homes into uncertain embrace lands Infusing stark reality narrative hopeful fantasy fairy tale, Mohsin homepage Website mohsinhamid home Books Reluctant Fundamentalist Tense possibly American, encounter bearded stranger cafe Lahore His name Changez He left high flying career affair Similar authors follow four novels, MOTH SMOKE, THE RELUCTANT FUNDAMENTALIST, HOW TO GET FILTHY RICH IN RISING ASIA, WEST, DISCONTENT AND ITS CIVILIZATIONS Urdu born July novelist, writer brand consultant novels Moth Smoke How Filthy Rich Rising Author Goodreads Smoke, Fundamentalist, Asia, Discontent Its Civilizations Guardian From Myanmar Pakistan, US Britain, obsession purity driving political, religious moral agendas But retreat international bestsellers both finalists Man Booker PrizeHis first won Betty Trask Award was finalist PEN Hemingway IMDb Hamid, Writer fiction been translated over languages, shortlisted Prize, featured bestseller list The Hamid, read increasing admiration beautifully what joy find such intelligent prose, clarity exposition superbly constructed country teetering brink civil war, young sensual, fiercely independent Nadia gentle, restrained They embark furtive soon cloistered premature intimacy unrest roiling city explodes, turning familiar Exit West: A Novel

 

    • Exit West: A Novel
    • 2.1
    • 91
    • Broché
    • 9780735212176
    • Mohsin Hamid
    • Anglais
    • 03 August 2017

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