Anatomy of a Disappearance – Hisham Matar



I remembered what she had said to father in the car when the naked mountains of Nordland first came into view: “Here God decided to be a sculptor; everywhere else he holds back.”


There were moments when her unhappiness seemed as elemental as clear water.


The same sad hunger, only darker and harder to bear.


 And again she did not speak, but this time it was a protective and knowing silence, a silence like the screen a doctor pulls across before he comes to inspect you.

… ‘that infantile impertinence that passes for a revolution’

 Longing was a stone in my mouth.



How impatient I was with the hands of the wristwatch.

The slicked-back black hair looked part of the effort to keep what he knew silent.


Humility is not earned through humiliation.

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