The Other Hand
by Chris Cleave
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Description
A haunting novel about the tenuous friendship that blooms between two disparate strangers--one an illegal Nigerian refugee, the other a recent widow from suburban London.Tags
Recommendations
Member Recommendations
sweetiegherkin Two books about strong women who survive horrific situations in war-torn African countries; one fiction and one nonfiction but both moving in their own way.
40
BookshelfMonstrosity The stories of a impoverished countryside boy and two upper-class sisters are told against the backdrop of the 1960s Biafran War. This book, by one of Nigeria's most famous authors, should appeal to readers interested in Nigeria's history, Nigerian society and the lives of women in Nigeria.
BookshelfMonstrosity Twenty-two-year-old Immaculée survives the three-month Rwandan genocide, in which most of her family is murdered. Readers interested in how a lone survivor of violent conflict can find the strength to continue might be interested in this memoir.
02
monzrocks Presents the same intersection/juxtaposition of life in the "first world" vs. life in the "third." Both have great characters.
dsc73277 "Hearts and Minds" and "Little Bee" have been two of the most compelling books I have read this year. Both deal sympathetically with the experience of migrants to Britain. At times they make for difficult reading, reminding one as they do of how difficult some people's lives are, however, ultimately they are not devoid of hope.
2810michael På dansk: Den anden hånd
Member Reviews
Yikes.
Talk about white savior complex.
If you're picking up this book to read about Little Bee, the Nigerian refugee, then don't bother. It's not about her at all, but about the white British woman, Sarah. It's about her angst, her family drama, her need to become the said white savior, how Little Bee affects her life, and it's about her need to start off every bit of dialogue with "Oh Bee!" "Oh Laurence!" "Oh Charlie!".
Book content warnings:
suicide
I only continued reading this novel because a friend recommended it so highly, because as a survivor and a depressed person with suicidal thoughts, the beginning half of this book was very difficult to get through, as there was a suicide almost every single chapter. I'm not kidding. I mean, show more I'm glad the author said "It was depression that killed ___" instead of some ableist phrasing, but it's still not a fun ride when you fight these thoughts yourself.
OK. So I'm always wary of white dudes writing POVs of black girls/women, obviously, but this book came with so much hype. And let me down so hard. It has nothing to do with Little Bee or how she feels or how anything affects her. Everything is about the white people, how what happened on the beach (a very important plot point) affected them, etc. At one point Sarah says, "We need to talk about [what happened at the beach]," because she wants to know to ease her own heart and guilt. Because who cares about Little Bee or her probably ptsd and everything.
There's also a dash of sexism, heteronormativity, and explicit ableism (i.e. "'He was a twat, really, only you couldn't say that because he was blind. I suppose that's how he got so far. [. . .] He used to lean, like this, and his hand would sort of tremble. I think it was an act. He didn't tremble when he was reading Braille.'"
Even if I ignored everything above, the purple-ish writing quickly becomes stale, the white characters are unbearable to read, and the entire book feels like some sort of lecture. show less
Talk about white savior complex.
If you're picking up this book to read about Little Bee, the Nigerian refugee, then don't bother. It's not about her at all, but about the white British woman, Sarah. It's about her angst, her family drama, her need to become the said white savior, how Little Bee affects her life, and it's about her need to start off every bit of dialogue with "Oh Bee!" "Oh Laurence!" "Oh Charlie!".
Book content warnings:
suicide
I only continued reading this novel because a friend recommended it so highly, because as a survivor and a depressed person with suicidal thoughts, the beginning half of this book was very difficult to get through, as there was a suicide almost every single chapter. I'm not kidding. I mean, show more I'm glad the author said "It was depression that killed ___" instead of some ableist phrasing, but it's still not a fun ride when you fight these thoughts yourself.
OK. So I'm always wary of white dudes writing POVs of black girls/women, obviously, but this book came with so much hype. And let me down so hard. It has nothing to do with Little Bee or how she feels or how anything affects her. Everything is about the white people, how what happened on the beach (a very important plot point) affected them, etc. At one point Sarah says, "We need to talk about [what happened at the beach]," because she wants to know to ease her own heart and guilt. Because who cares about Little Bee or her probably ptsd and everything.
There's also a dash of sexism, heteronormativity, and explicit ableism (i.e. "'He was a twat, really, only you couldn't say that because he was blind. I suppose that's how he got so far. [. . .] He used to lean, like this, and his hand would sort of tremble. I think it was an act. He didn't tremble when he was reading Braille.'"
Even if I ignored everything above, the purple-ish writing quickly becomes stale, the white characters are unbearable to read, and the entire book feels like some sort of lecture. show less
***SPOILERS HIDDEN***
What do a sixteen-year-old Nigerian refugee and a 32-year-old middle-class British mother have in common? Little Bee is an examination of deep loss, focusing most intensely on how these two characters are broken in different ways as the result of a single terrifying incident. The story is narrated in these dual voices, the distinction between them helped along very nicely by author Chris Cleave’s careful attention to Nigerian idioms when Little Bee is telling the story. Unfortunately, however, as deep and affecting as Little Bee sounds, this is a story that only skims the surface of a premise that demands more.
From Little Bee I expected a powerful, moving story of triumph against great odds. It certainly gets off show more to a promising start, with Little Bee describing life in her village, “before the men came,” before interethnic and oil-related conflicts led to unspeakable violence. For a topic as heavy as this, though, more of Little Bee’s back story in Nigeria, along with deeper development of her character, is essential. I saw great potential for more vivid description of Little Bee’s village life, both before and after “the men came,” and was terribly disappointed that Cleave didn’t elaborate. The story loses its footing when focus shifts to Sarah, who seems childlike for a 32-year-old. No doubt Cleave was trying to convey Sarah’s vulnerability afterthe suicide of her husband on top of the horror she endured while vacationing in Nigeria , but her childlike manner grates at times. Little Bee is arguably the more compelling of the two, and the book is most engaging when the spotlight is on her. The alternating points-of-view do work, but by affording Sarah equal time as narrator, Cleave turned what could have been a truly great, moving work into just a good work.
Teenage Little Bee--whom characters repeatedly refer to as a “woman,” much to my puzzlement--not Sarah, seems the stronger of the two characters. I’m not convinced this isn’t a flaw.
For someone who from an early age learned that men are to be feared, Little Bee is shockingly confident when speaking with them. A scene in which she lobs this barb at Lawrence struck me as especially unrealistic: “What kind of help are you, Lawrence? Maybe you are the kind of help that only arrives when it wants sexual intercourse.” Here's a girl whohad no choice but to listen as her sister was horrifically raped and murdered. This is someone who was too frozen with fear to leave the jungle to seek help at a time when she so desperately needed it, yet she’s brazen enough to look Lawrence, a man who easily could have her deported, in the eye and verbally spar with him without missing a beat. It doesn’t ring true. Cleave was intending to show Little Bee’s strength of character here, but Little Bee had experienced deep and very possibly, permanent, psychological trauma at the hands of men.
Where Little Bee is a stand-out is in its soberingly powerful scenes, the most memorable of which comes at the book’s halfway point and is the impetus for every subsequent interaction between Little Bee and Sarah. There's genuine fear and sorrow in this book and more than a few moral dilemmas that lend the story a sophisticated gravity.
On the flip side, Sarah’s glamorous job at a women’s magazine--complete with an assistant who's nothing more than a ridiculous caricature--and an awkward story line involving an extramarital affair, don’t do Little Bee any favors; annoyingly, here the story’s tone seems to veer into beach-read territory. Such soap–opera-ish details seem somehow disrespectful to the book’s important theme.
Lastly, Cleave’s accomplished writing and some unique description make for memorable images. Fortunately, these help offset loads of missing basic punctuation. Cleave knows how to paint with words, but this book desperately needed an additional round of editing before its final printing.
Final verdict: Read but don’t expect greatness. show less
What do a sixteen-year-old Nigerian refugee and a 32-year-old middle-class British mother have in common? Little Bee is an examination of deep loss, focusing most intensely on how these two characters are broken in different ways as the result of a single terrifying incident. The story is narrated in these dual voices, the distinction between them helped along very nicely by author Chris Cleave’s careful attention to Nigerian idioms when Little Bee is telling the story. Unfortunately, however, as deep and affecting as Little Bee sounds, this is a story that only skims the surface of a premise that demands more.
From Little Bee I expected a powerful, moving story of triumph against great odds. It certainly gets off show more to a promising start, with Little Bee describing life in her village, “before the men came,” before interethnic and oil-related conflicts led to unspeakable violence. For a topic as heavy as this, though, more of Little Bee’s back story in Nigeria, along with deeper development of her character, is essential. I saw great potential for more vivid description of Little Bee’s village life, both before and after “the men came,” and was terribly disappointed that Cleave didn’t elaborate. The story loses its footing when focus shifts to Sarah, who seems childlike for a 32-year-old. No doubt Cleave was trying to convey Sarah’s vulnerability after
Teenage Little Bee--whom characters repeatedly refer to as a “woman,” much to my puzzlement--not Sarah, seems the stronger of the two characters. I’m not convinced this isn’t a flaw.
For someone who from an early age learned that men are to be feared, Little Bee is shockingly confident when speaking with them. A scene in which she lobs this barb at Lawrence struck me as especially unrealistic: “What kind of help are you, Lawrence? Maybe you are the kind of help that only arrives when it wants sexual intercourse.” Here's a girl who
Where Little Bee is a stand-out is in its soberingly powerful scenes, the most memorable of which comes at the book’s halfway point and is the impetus for every subsequent interaction between Little Bee and Sarah. There's genuine fear and sorrow in this book and more than a few moral dilemmas that lend the story a sophisticated gravity.
On the flip side, Sarah’s glamorous job at a women’s magazine--complete with an assistant who's nothing more than a ridiculous caricature--and an awkward story line involving an extramarital affair, don’t do Little Bee any favors; annoyingly, here the story’s tone seems to veer into beach-read territory. Such soap–opera-ish details seem somehow disrespectful to the book’s important theme.
Lastly, Cleave’s accomplished writing and some unique description make for memorable images. Fortunately, these help offset loads of missing basic punctuation. Cleave knows how to paint with words, but this book desperately needed an additional round of editing before its final printing.
Final verdict: Read but don’t expect greatness. show less
This is not a perfect book and perhaps people would especially find faults in it today, but I loved it. Both narrators are rendered beautifully. They are truly alive as characters. The writing is wonderful. The story is too real -- that the UK did this, and that it was hushed up, and that people died and people immigrated and it all just keeps getting swept away, and of course it is women who bear the greatest weight of that violence. Highly recommended.
The jacket notes on this book avoid the usual routine of giving a taster of the plot because, in a clever marketing move, they proclaim "it is a truly special story and we don't want to spoil it". They also urge the reader to tell friends about the book, but not to give away what happens. It isn't giving anything away to say that I believe this book is truly deserving of such hype. I'm not going to stop there though so, in the phrase familiar to television audiences in the UK "if you don't want to know the result, look away now".
Still looking?
As it happens I probably will not reveal too much, suffice it to say that Cleave brilliantly tells the story of a young Nigerian girl who comes to England as a refugee, and how her life becomes show more intertwined with the family of a couple she met in a moment of crisis back home on an African beach. He does this with great humanity, and with humour. As someone who regularly supports a refugee charity, I am already in the camp of those who look more sympathetically than many upon the plight of those who seek refuge in the UK. I would like to think that encountering this powerful book might lead someone from the other side of the argument to reassess his or her stance on the issue. It seems to me that getting inside the mind of Little Bee, the fictional refugee at the heart of this story, is likely to do more for the cause of displaced people than any amount of worthy but dull journalistic analysis by the less populist sections of the press.
One feature I particularly liked is the way in which contrasts are repeatedly drawn between Little Bee's life in Nigeria and what she observes about life in England. For example:
"You live in a world of machines and you dream of things with beating hearts. We dream of machines, because we see where beating hearts have left us."
Regardless of where we might stand on the issue of asylum, the book also makes us think about the extent to which all of us may be prone to compromise others for the sake of our own safety or security. show less
Still looking?
As it happens I probably will not reveal too much, suffice it to say that Cleave brilliantly tells the story of a young Nigerian girl who comes to England as a refugee, and how her life becomes show more intertwined with the family of a couple she met in a moment of crisis back home on an African beach. He does this with great humanity, and with humour. As someone who regularly supports a refugee charity, I am already in the camp of those who look more sympathetically than many upon the plight of those who seek refuge in the UK. I would like to think that encountering this powerful book might lead someone from the other side of the argument to reassess his or her stance on the issue. It seems to me that getting inside the mind of Little Bee, the fictional refugee at the heart of this story, is likely to do more for the cause of displaced people than any amount of worthy but dull journalistic analysis by the less populist sections of the press.
One feature I particularly liked is the way in which contrasts are repeatedly drawn between Little Bee's life in Nigeria and what she observes about life in England. For example:
"You live in a world of machines and you dream of things with beating hearts. We dream of machines, because we see where beating hearts have left us."
Regardless of where we might stand on the issue of asylum, the book also makes us think about the extent to which all of us may be prone to compromise others for the sake of our own safety or security. show less
Set alternately in Nigeria and a refugee center in England, this is not an easy story to read but it is one that needed to be written. A young girl and her sister are a target of the violence that comes with the ruthless corruption in Nigeria. Sarah And Andrew, an English couple on holiday happen upon the girls and attempt to save them from their attackers in an incident that is truly shocking. The remainder of the story takes place two years later in a refugee detention center in England when one of those girls, Little Bee, manages to escape and make her way to the couple's address hoping for help to remain in the country. She claims if she's sent back she will be killed, but who believes that about a 14 year old girl?
The issues of show more immigration, racism, and deportation are complex. As is the question of how far we are willing to go to help someone who is not one of our own, so to speak? And unresolved feelings around the original incident in Nigeria again threaten to tear the couple apart. One of them wants to help her and the other is terrified for reasons of their own and wants nothing to do with her. I devoured the story in one day, I had to know how it turned out.
It's an eye opener regarding immigration centers, the living conditions therein and the length of time people can languish in them, hoping for asylum. It's a terrible but entirely believable story. It is well written, narrated in alternating voices of Little Bee and the wife Sarah. It is also original and unforgettable. Four and a half stars out of five. I recommend it highly. show less
The issues of show more immigration, racism, and deportation are complex. As is the question of how far we are willing to go to help someone who is not one of our own, so to speak? And unresolved feelings around the original incident in Nigeria again threaten to tear the couple apart. One of them wants to help her and the other is terrified for reasons of their own and wants nothing to do with her. I devoured the story in one day, I had to know how it turned out.
It's an eye opener regarding immigration centers, the living conditions therein and the length of time people can languish in them, hoping for asylum. It's a terrible but entirely believable story. It is well written, narrated in alternating voices of Little Bee and the wife Sarah. It is also original and unforgettable. Four and a half stars out of five. I recommend it highly. show less
This review was written for LibraryThing Early Reviewers."We must see all scars as beauty....................a scar does not form on the dying. A scar means, 'I survived'."
The Other Hand opens within the walls of an immigration detention centre outside London where a 16-year-old girl from Nigeria, Little Bee, has spent the last two years learning the Queen's English in an effort to gain asylum in the UK, hoping to swap horrific past events in her homeland for a brighter future. When Little Bee's inadvertently finds herself, along with three other women, released from the centre she telephones the only man she knows in the country, Andrew O'Rourke, a journalist and columnist for a broadsheet newspaper. Little Bee met Andrew and his wife Sarah, also a journalist, whilst they were on a beach show more holiday in Nigeria. Andrew doesn't welcome the reminder and a few days later commits suicide.
Little Bee seemingly arrives on Andrew and Sarah's doorstep in leafy Kingston-upon-Thames on the day of Andrew's funeral. Something happened that shook this teenage girl and British couple to their very cores. As Little Bee and Sarah take it in turns to recount their story the facts of their chance meeting and the intervening two years are gradually revealed.
"It started on the day we first met Little Bee, on a lonely beach in Nigeria. The only souvenir I have of that first meeting is an absence where the middle finger of my left hand used to be. The amputation is quite clean. In place of my finger is a stump".
Most of the action has already happened when Little Bee and Sarah reunite. Through their recollections, an African past surfaces slowly in an English present. We learn that Andrew was clinically depressed, that Sarah, the editor of a women's magazine, 'Nixie', soon after their marriage becomes disenchanted and starts an affair with a married man, Lawrence, whilst their son Charlie will only wear a Batman costume and spends his days fighting imaginary baddies. However, it is the stark choices that were made on that Nigerian beach is the true driver of what follows.
Initially I felt that Sarah came across as being rather insipid, a dreamer, (the trip to Nigeria was her ill-conceived attempt to save the marriage) but it soon becomes apparent that at her core she is made of sterner stuff. Even if life in leafy England lacks the life-and-death struggles found in other parts of the world she is still a survivor. She has chosen to try to adapt and carve a niche for herself in her world whereas Little Bee has chosen to use her feet and abandon her's.
Some of the coincidences within this book may feel a little outlandish but Cleave doesn't try to be ironic nor does he cast judgement on the choices that either woman makes, instead he allows the reader to do that for themselves. Similarly the climax when it comes, isn't the result of an action by either of the two women but instead stem from two inadvertent decisions made by a four year old Batman.
The Other Hand deals with some pretty thorny issues, immigration, globalisation, political and sexual violence alongside personal accountability. I found it had a powerful if uncomfortable read, one that at the end of it made me sit up and think. Just what would I do?
"trouble is like the ocean. It covers two thirds of the world." show less
The Other Hand opens within the walls of an immigration detention centre outside London where a 16-year-old girl from Nigeria, Little Bee, has spent the last two years learning the Queen's English in an effort to gain asylum in the UK, hoping to swap horrific past events in her homeland for a brighter future. When Little Bee's inadvertently finds herself, along with three other women, released from the centre she telephones the only man she knows in the country, Andrew O'Rourke, a journalist and columnist for a broadsheet newspaper. Little Bee met Andrew and his wife Sarah, also a journalist, whilst they were on a beach show more holiday in Nigeria. Andrew doesn't welcome the reminder and a few days later commits suicide.
Little Bee seemingly arrives on Andrew and Sarah's doorstep in leafy Kingston-upon-Thames on the day of Andrew's funeral. Something happened that shook this teenage girl and British couple to their very cores. As Little Bee and Sarah take it in turns to recount their story the facts of their chance meeting and the intervening two years are gradually revealed.
"It started on the day we first met Little Bee, on a lonely beach in Nigeria. The only souvenir I have of that first meeting is an absence where the middle finger of my left hand used to be. The amputation is quite clean. In place of my finger is a stump".
Most of the action has already happened when Little Bee and Sarah reunite. Through their recollections, an African past surfaces slowly in an English present. We learn that Andrew was clinically depressed, that Sarah, the editor of a women's magazine, 'Nixie', soon after their marriage becomes disenchanted and starts an affair with a married man, Lawrence, whilst their son Charlie will only wear a Batman costume and spends his days fighting imaginary baddies. However, it is the stark choices that were made on that Nigerian beach is the true driver of what follows.
Initially I felt that Sarah came across as being rather insipid, a dreamer, (the trip to Nigeria was her ill-conceived attempt to save the marriage) but it soon becomes apparent that at her core she is made of sterner stuff. Even if life in leafy England lacks the life-and-death struggles found in other parts of the world she is still a survivor. She has chosen to try to adapt and carve a niche for herself in her world whereas Little Bee has chosen to use her feet and abandon her's.
Some of the coincidences within this book may feel a little outlandish but Cleave doesn't try to be ironic nor does he cast judgement on the choices that either woman makes, instead he allows the reader to do that for themselves. Similarly the climax when it comes, isn't the result of an action by either of the two women but instead stem from two inadvertent decisions made by a four year old Batman.
The Other Hand deals with some pretty thorny issues, immigration, globalisation, political and sexual violence alongside personal accountability. I found it had a powerful if uncomfortable read, one that at the end of it made me sit up and think. Just what would I do?
"trouble is like the ocean. It covers two thirds of the world." show less
This book is published under the title Little Bee in the US. I read a UK printing, under the title The Other Hand. If I had rated this book when I was 2/3 of the way through, I might have given it 5 stars. But, the story continued well beyond its natural conclusion and in order to tie up the loose ends, the characters' actions were absolutely absurd.
Here's what I fail to understand, plot-wise:
- Why Sarah, who is constantly rediscovering her love for her young son/his importance in her life, chose to take him to Nigeria and drag him around the country collecting stories of human rights abuses, especially given that during her previous visit, she had a finger lopped off by a crazed criminal wielding a machete. Does she really think her show more white skin and British passport will protect her?
- How Sarah and Lawrence could find out what flight Little Bee would be on when deported to Nigeria in time for Sarah to book two tickets but they could not find a solicitor in time to intervene in the deportation.
- Why Little Bee was held in detention for two years, accidentally released, and then immediately deported when found by the authorities -- wouldn't she just go back to detention until the process ran its course. (I admit that, here, I might just not know what the process is, but the author totally lost his credibility with the previous two plot problems.)
In terms of the book's message, I found it annoying that Sarah is implicitly blamed for her husband's suicide because she was sleeping around and spending too much time on her career. Likewise, criticism of her career focus was also irritating. Then, there's this whole developed/developing world tension which I think was handled well until it was time to end the story.
So, not my favorite. show less
Here's what I fail to understand, plot-wise:
- Why Sarah, who is constantly rediscovering her love for her young son/his importance in her life, chose to take him to Nigeria and drag him around the country collecting stories of human rights abuses, especially given that during her previous visit, she had a finger lopped off by a crazed criminal wielding a machete. Does she really think her show more white skin and British passport will protect her?
- How Sarah and Lawrence could find out what flight Little Bee would be on when deported to Nigeria in time for Sarah to book two tickets but they could not find a solicitor in time to intervene in the deportation.
- Why Little Bee was held in detention for two years, accidentally released, and then immediately deported when found by the authorities -- wouldn't she just go back to detention until the process ran its course. (I admit that, here, I might just not know what the process is, but the author totally lost his credibility with the previous two plot problems.)
In terms of the book's message, I found it annoying that Sarah is implicitly blamed for her husband's suicide because she was sleeping around and spending too much time on her career. Likewise, criticism of her career focus was also irritating. Then, there's this whole developed/developing world tension which I think was handled well until it was time to end the story.
So, not my favorite. show less
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ThingScore 75
While the pretext of “Little Bee” initially seems contrived — two strangers, a British woman and a Nigerian girl, meet on a lonely African beach and become inextricably bound through the horror imprinted on their encounter — its impact is hardly shallow. Rather than focusing on postcolonial guilt or African angst, Cleave uses his emotionally charged narrative to challenge his show more readers’ conceptions of civility, of ethical choice. show less
added by Nickelini
"Little Bee" leaves little doubt that Cleave deserves the praise. He has carved two indelible characters whose choices in even the most straitened circumstances permit them dignity -- if they are willing to sacrifice for it. "Little Bee" is the best kind of political novel: You're almost entirely unaware of its politics because the book doesn't deal in abstractions but in human beings.
added by VivienneR
"Little Bee" is the best kind of political novel: You're almost entirely unaware of its politics because the book doesn't deal in abstractions but in human beings.
added by mikeg2
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Author Information
11+ Works 13,170 Members
Chris Cleave is a columnist for The Guardian newspaper in London. His first novel, Incendiary, won the 2006 Somerset Maugham Award, was shortlisted for the 2006 Commonwealth Writers' Prize, won the United States Book-of-the-Month Club's First Fiction Award, and won the Prix Special du Jury at the French Prix des Lecteurs 2007. His second novel, show more Little Bee, was shortlisted for the prestigious Costa Award for Best Novel. His third novel, Gold, was published in 2012. (Bowker Author Biography) show less
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Common Knowledge
- Canonical title
- The Other Hand
- Original title
- The Other Hand (English - UK) (English - UK); Little Bee (English - USA) (English - USA)
- Alternate titles
- Little Bee (US) (US)
- Original publication date
- 2008-08-07
- People/Characters
- Little Bee; Sarah Summers; Andrew O'Rourke; Sarah; Yevette; Charley (Bat Man) (show all 11); Lawrence; Lawrence Osborn; Charlie O'Rourke; Nkiruka; Clarissa
- Important places
- Nigeria; Kingston upon Thames, London, England, UK (frequently known as Kingston)
- Epigraph
- Britain is proud of its tradition of providing a safe haven for people fleeting [sic] persecution and conflict. - From Life in the United Kingdom: A Journey to Citizenship (UK Home Office, 2005)
- Dedication
- For Joseph
- First words
- Most days I wish I was a British pound coin instead of an African girl.
- Quotations
- (Little Bee, p.13/14:) "...and I ask you right here please to agree with me that a scar is never ugly. That's what the scar makers want us to think. But you and I, we must make an agreement to defy them. We must see all scars... (show all) as beauty (...) Because take it from me, a scar does not form on the dying. A scar means, "I survived".
Through the lobby of the Home Office building, the public sector shuffled past in its scuffed shoes, balancing its morning coffee on cardboard carry trays. The women bulged out of M&S trouser suits, wattles wobbling and b... (show all)angles clacking. The men seemed limp and hypoxic--half-garroted by their ties. Everyone stooped, or scuttled, or nervously ticked. They carried themselves like weather presenters preparing to lower expectations for the bank-holiday weekend.
We knew what we had: we had nothing. Your world and our world had come to this understanding. Even the missionaries had boarded up their mission. They left us with the holy books that were not worth the expense of shipping ba... (show all)ck to your country. In our village our only Bible had all of its pages missing after the forty-sixth verse of the twenty-seventh chapter of Matthew, so that the end of our religion, as far as any of us knew, was My God, my god, why hast thous forsaken me? We understood that this was the end of the story. That is how we lived, happily and without hope. I was very young then, and I did not miss having a future because I did not know I was entitled to one.
Compromise, eh? Isn't it sad, growing up? You start off like my Charlie. You start off thinking you can kill all the baddies and save the world. Then you get a little bit older, maybe Little Bee's age, and you realize that so... (show all)me of the world's badness is inside you, that maybe you're a part of it. And then you get a little bit older still, and a bit more comfortable, and you start wondering whether that badness you've seen in yourself is really all that bad at all. You start talking about ten percent.
There were people in that crowd, and strolling along the walkway, from all of the different colors and nationalities of the earth. There were more races even than I recognized from the detention center. I stood with my back a... (show all)gainst the railings and my mouth open and I watched them walking past, more and more of them. And then I realized it. I said to myself, Little Bee, there is no them. This endless procession of people, walking along beside this great river, these people are you.
This isn't about the decisions you made anymore. Because the biggest thing in your life, the thing that killed Andrew and the thing that means you can't sleep, is something that happened without you. - Last words
- (Click to show. Warning: May contain spoilers.)But me, I watched all of those children smiling and dancing and splashing each other in salt water and bright sunlight, and I laughed and laughed and laughed until the sound of the sea was drowned.
- Original language*
- Englisch
- Disambiguation notice
- The Other Hand (UK) / Little Bee (US)
*Some information comes from Common Knowledge in other languages. Click "Edit" for more information.
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- (3.73)
- Languages
- 17 — Catalan, Czech, Danish, Dutch, English, Estonian, Finnish, French, German, Greek, Indonesian, Italian, Norwegian (Bokmål), Portuguese, Spanish, Swedish, Turkish
- Media
- Paper, Audiobook, Ebook
- ISBNs
- 76
- ASINs
- 27
