The Book of Ifs and Buts
Rabindranath Maharaj
Language: English
Pages: 328
ISBN: B003MW0H4W
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
“For so long I imagined I was making some long journey which would make sense when I had reached the end, but now I realize there are no journeys, just imprints in other people’s dusty footsteps.” -- from Journey of Angels
Recognized for his first collection of short fiction, The Interloper, with a nomination for the Commonwealth Writers Prize for Best First Book, Rabindranath Maharaj displays that distinct talent again in The Book of Ifs and Buts. Part of our new Vintage Tales series, these stories tell the experience of immigrants as they take up new lives, often alone, in strange lands. With passion and a discreet comic sensibility, Maharaj brings poignancy and enduring beauty to lives that
prosper, suffer, endure heartbreak and realize dreams.
From the Trade Paperback edition.
while we sipped nervously. In his soft, studious voice he told us how gratified he was by our visit—Zoravar who had hosted so many educated people. He plucked out a book from a scrolling corner shelf and held it against his nose as if it were one of his prized flowers. He pushed the book into my hand. We were conquered, my wife and I. We had never been in the presence of such an educated man, or the recipients of such generosity. Leila began visiting me at work, sometimes with snacks of
poisoning and infertility among women in an East Asian country, Rosalie offered Lalchan bits of gingery meat and water chestnuts from her container. And while Lalchan munched slowly, she wagged her head and revealed the details of her life. He nodded and said, “Yes, I see,” although he was able to distinguish only a few facts. She had arrived from the Philippines four months ago. She found it difficult to understand the Canadian accent. Mr. Malvidas and all the other workers were from the
drop in every now and again. It appear that my ministrations is successful and I can quote with assurance that he is a change soul. He only get intoxicated on the weekend now. I is working on his other vice, but it is difficult because all over the place now there is lotto and whe-whe and pick-two gambling machines. But a good apprentice preacher never put his hat down Irma, and I trying with renewed vigour and strategy. He promised to repay me the other tiny sum by month-end too and rest
what’s the difference,” he said. “It sounds like Missem to me.” Then he looked at me and said, “Hey, wait a minute. Maybe that is really your pet name for Martha. Miss M.” After that, he couldn’t control himself. His cheeks filled up with air and he put his head inside his locker and laughed and laughed. For a minute I wanted to slam the locker door against his head, but then I too started to laugh. Then he pulled back his head from the locker and I saw that he wasn’t laughing again. “These
breath and with the air still in my mouth I told her, “Jermaine did it.” “How do you know that?” she asked me in a suddenly serious voice. I felt like someone else was talking to Miss Blinky and that I was just listening. “I saw him writing it.” “But he said that he did not write it,” she told me. “I know,” I said, feeling suddenly miserable and hopeless. “It’s your word against his, then.” “Yes,” was all I said. “Mr. Dukchuk believes that Martha all but confessed.” “She was just crying.”