people. The book then both universalizes and complicates the concept of migrancy: it reinforces that
anyone can end up becoming a refugee, but that non-refugees always have the tendency to view refugees as being less than or even somehow deserving of their refugee status. And in revealing
this tendency of people, the book criticizes such a narrow and selfish worldview.
In times of violence, there is always that first acquaintance or intimate of ours, who, when they are touched, makes what had seemed
like a bad dream suddenly, evisceratingly real.
For Nadia this person washer cousin, a man of considerable determination and intellect, who even when he was young had never cared much for play, who
seemed to laugh only rarely,
who had won medals in school and decided to become a doctor,
who had successfully emigrated abroad, who returned once a year to visit his parents, and who,
along with eighty-five others,
was blown by a truck bomb to bits, literally to bits, the largest of which, in Nadia’s cousin’s case, were ahead and two-thirds of an arm.
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