By Caryl Phillips
Dorothy is a retired schoolteacher who has lately moved to a housing property in a small village. Solomon is a night-watchman, an immigrant from an unnamed nation in Africa. every one is determined for romance. And but every one harbors secrets and techniques which could make achieving it impossible.
With breathtaking coverage and compassion, Caryl Phillips retraces the trails that lead Dorothy and Solomon to their assembly aspect: her failed marriage and ruinous obsession with a more youthful guy, the horrors he witnessed as a soldier in his disintegrating place of origin, and the cruelty he encounters as a stranger in his new one. Intimate and panoramic, measured and shattering, a far off Shore charts the oceanic expanses that separate humans from their houses, their hearts, and their selves.
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Between the lines, however, there were several real people involved. For his crucial contribution to the book, I would like to thank Ridley Scott, whose nose for a good story got me started. I was also very fortunate to receive expert advice of an alcoholic nature from Allen Chevalier in the Luberon and Anthony Barton in the Médoc. And Ailie Collins was, as always, a joy to work with. Mille mercis à tous. One It was high summer in London, and the raindrops felt almost warm on Max Skinner’s face as he ran up Rutland Gate and into Hyde Park.
Perfect. “Suit yourself,” he said. “Your decision. ” Max stood up, but Amis hadn’t finished with him. “Aren’t you forgetting something, my friend? ” He held out his hand. ” Max took the keys from his pocket and hesitated for a moment before dropping them carefully into Amis’s half-eaten crème brûlée. Amis watched him go. He reached for his cell phone and punched in Tracy’s number. During the walk back to the office, Max’s emotions were a mixture of apprehension at what he’d just done and elation at having done it.
Max thought back to the scowling peasant. “He didn’t seem too happy. ” “Claude Roussel. ” Now he remembered. That was Russell, an older Russell made thicker and balder and more weather-beaten by the passage of the years, but certainly the same man he’d met once or twice at the house. ” Maître Auzet glanced at the wafer of gold on her wrist. “It’s a little complicated to explain, and I don’t really have time today . ” Max held up a hand. ” She looked at him, half-smiling. “Tomorrow. Lunch. ” She took off her glasses.
A Distant Shore by Caryl Phillips