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4.05 AVERAGE
4.05 AVERAGE
An immersion into a different time and a different world by an author with a reflective, confident and distinctive voice.
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“A map in the hands of a pilot is a testimony of a man’s faith in other men; it is a symbol of confidence and trust. It is not like a printed page that bears mere words, ambiguous and artful, and whose most believing reader - even whose author, perhaps - must allow in his mind a recess for doubt. A map says to you, ‘Read me carefully, follow me closely, doubt me not.’ It says, ‘I am the earth in the palm of your hand. Without me, you are alone and lost.”
“I could stare up at the ceiling of my bedroom in Aldenham House, which was a ceiling undistinguished as ceilings go, and feel less resolute than anxious, much less brave than foolhardy. I could say to myself, ‘You needn’t do it, of course,’ knowing at the same time that nothing is so inexorable as a promise to your pride.”
“You can live a lifetime and, at the end of it, know more about other people than you know about yourself. You learn to watch other people, but you never watch yourself because you strive against loneliness… Being alone in an aeroplane for even so short a time as a night and a day, irrevocably alone, with nothing to observe but your instruments and your own hands in semi-darkness, nothing to contemplate but the size of your small courage, nothing to wonder about but the beliefs, the faces, and the hopes rooted in your mind - such an experience can be as startling as the first awareness of a stranger walking by your side at night. You are the stranger.”
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“A map in the hands of a pilot is a testimony of a man’s faith in other men; it is a symbol of confidence and trust. It is not like a printed page that bears mere words, ambiguous and artful, and whose most believing reader - even whose author, perhaps - must allow in his mind a recess for doubt. A map says to you, ‘Read me carefully, follow me closely, doubt me not.’ It says, ‘I am the earth in the palm of your hand. Without me, you are alone and lost.”
“I could stare up at the ceiling of my bedroom in Aldenham House, which was a ceiling undistinguished as ceilings go, and feel less resolute than anxious, much less brave than foolhardy. I could say to myself, ‘You needn’t do it, of course,’ knowing at the same time that nothing is so inexorable as a promise to your pride.”
“You can live a lifetime and, at the end of it, know more about other people than you know about yourself. You learn to watch other people, but you never watch yourself because you strive against loneliness… Being alone in an aeroplane for even so short a time as a night and a day, irrevocably alone, with nothing to observe but your instruments and your own hands in semi-darkness, nothing to contemplate but the size of your small courage, nothing to wonder about but the beliefs, the faces, and the hopes rooted in your mind - such an experience can be as startling as the first awareness of a stranger walking by your side at night. You are the stranger.”
adventurous
informative
inspiring
medium-paced
adventurous
hopeful
inspiring
adventurous
informative
medium-paced
I liked this more than Out of Africa. I was surprised at the large role Baron Blixen played in this given the fact that his wife never mentioned him in her book.
Stopped reading after a particularly racist passage on page 25.
What kind of woman decides to fly across the Atlantic from east to west in the early years of aviation, when it will mean long hours in a small, cold cockpit? A women brought up in British East Africa on a farm that she left at age 17 with a horse and a change of clothes. Beryl Markham's book is a tribute to the continent she so clearly loved. Don't look to this book for awareness of many of the differences between Africans and the whites who settled there, or for salacious tales of her social circle in Nairobi. What you will find is beautiful prose describing an incredible period in history from the perspective of a tough, adventurous woman.
Me he sentido un poco una persona lanzada a una historia en marcha, a una vida que, tampoco tenía por qué ser cronológica, pero sí quizá presentarnos en primera persona a quien nos habla. El estilo a veces es como poético desde lo forzado pero lo es porque lo que no es poético es muy plano, como dos piezas que no encajan. Y lo que me ha enfriado definitivamente al leer este libro ha sido su prólogo. Dudé en sí leerlo o no pero, como se trataba de un especie de memorias, di por hecho que no había posibilidad de spoilers. Y sin embargo, la que escribe, te dice que todavía se extraña de que la autora haya escrito un libro porque no le pega, lo compara (no sé a cuento de qué) con memorias de África diciendo que el libro que estás leyendo es peor y para remate reconoce que su estilo es empalagoso. No sé, no lo veo. Supongo que esto es error de la editorial pero no ha ayudado en absoluto. No sé si me animaré a leerlo más adelante pero tampoco lo descarto.
adventurous
challenging
informative
reflective
medium-paced
Beautiful writing, the story of Bombafu, the parrot, alone made the book for me.