Two Novellas by YAE: A Moroccan in New York and Sea Drinkers by Youssouf Amine Elalamy
By Youssouf Amine Elalamy
Novellas via YAE includes works via Youssouf Amine Elalamy, often referred to as YAE, translated from French into English for the 1st time. A Moroccan in big apple and Sea Drinkers offer a glimpse into the lives of Moroccan ZmigrZs and demonstrate a number of misconceptions and misunderstandings americans have approximately Moroccan tradition.
Read or Download Two Novellas by YAE: A Moroccan in New York and Sea Drinkers (After the Empire, the Francophone World and Postcolonial France) PDF
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Extra info for Two Novellas by YAE: A Moroccan in New York and Sea Drinkers (After the Empire, the Francophone World and Postcolonial France)
I’d unwittingly stepped into a den of Hell’s Angels, like a sheep among wolves. I could have simply disappeared the way I’d come, but for some inexplicable reason I made my way towards the bar, where I managed to straddle a stool and order a Schweppes. The barman had never heard of it so I had to be content with a tall and costly glass of mineral water. There was a buck-naked woman tattooed to his chest. Perhaps he’d met her somewhere back in his youth. They’d made love till dawn and just when he was experiencing a degree of pleasure he’d never known before, she left him high and dry.
In that second or two, Taybi’s stock skyrocketed—the screen had done wonders for his reputation, which continued to soar once he’d returned to the neighborhood. For me he had become The Great Taybi, the TV star, who I envied and adored at the same time. I begged him again and again to go over that initial episode of his show-business career, having no idea at the time that some 25 years later, I myself would appear on television courtesy of ABC. It started with an unexceptional little notice posted at the university: “The Les Brown Show needs you!
There was an undisguised sadness in her voice, and an air of something submissive, almost broken about her. The child’s least sigh was enough to upset her, and she strove to gratify the most far-fetched of his whims. She brought to mind John Fowles, and the French Lieutenant, so I called her Sarah. I imagined her joys and justified her pain. She would be taking the child to see Miss Liberty for the first time, after a long and exhausting trial over his custody. The old couple next to me had struck up an animated exchange.