The Sky Above the Roof
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- 3,99 €
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- 3,99 €
Descrizione dell’editore
Once upon a time there was a boy whose mother called him "Wolf"
She thought this name would bring him strength, luck, natural authority, but how could she know that this boy would grow up to be the gentlest and strangest of sons and that he would end up captured like a wild animal
There he is now, in the back of a police van, as we turn the page
It all begins with a crash.
One night, seventeen-year-old Wolf steals his mother's car and drives six hundred kilometres in search of his sister, who left home ten years ago. Unlicensed and on edge, he veers onto the wrong side of the road and causes an accident. He is arrested, imprisoned, and leaves his mother and sister to pick up the pieces.
What follows is an unflinching account of the events that lead to this moment, told through the alternating perspectives of Wolf's mother, sister and various other voices. In this raw and poignant novel, Nathacha Appanah reveals how trauma shapes generations and the wounds it leaves behind. The Sky Above the Roof is both a portrait of a fractured family and a poetic exploration of the ways we break apart and rebuild
Translated from the French by Geoffrey Strachan
PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
Mauritian French writer Appanah (Waiting for Tomorrow) offers a lyrical and striking story of a broken family. Wolf, 17 and prone to anxious fits, steals his mother's car and drives to see his older sister, Paloma, who left 10 years earlier. Their mother, Phoenix, is emotionally distant and has deliberately kept her children from contacting each other, her lack of tenderness bound up in her trauma of sexual assault at 11. Wolf's trip proves to be a disaster: he causes an accident and is put in jail, and as he languishes in custody, Appanah exquisitely renders each character's sorrow and longing. Wolf doesn't want Phoenix to visit him, only Paloma, who's made a new life for herself in a commune, prompting Phoenix to reflect on her choices. A particularly acute scene emerges in flashbacks, as Phoenix remembers when her fawning parents dolled her up to perform a song at a Christmas concert at her father's factory. Just before she goes on stage, a man from the factory forcibly kisses her, and when she gets to the mic, she lets out a "harsh... and prolonged scream." It was then, she realized, that she "abandoned" the "sham that is girlhood." It's a tender and beautiful portrayal of unarticulated pain.
