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Busy compiling stats and writing a blog post today instead of reading...

A slim, emotionally-affecting and hopeful novel told in the alternating viewpoints of two immigrants to Australia. Salimah is an African refugee with two young sons. Sayuri is the highly-educated wife of a Japanese academic. The two meet at an ESL class and become friends. #Translation by Meredith McKinney #WIT

Beneath a blue sky, learning to write under a great tree that sheltered her instead of a classroom roof. The first letters she had written with her finger in the sand. Letters that a man‘s feet had trampled. The land where she lived, her family, her friends—all taken from her. And after that, the simple prayer that she live another day to greet the sun again.

While one lives in a foreign country, language‘s main function is as a means of self-protection and a weapon in one‘s fight with the world. You can‘t fight without a weapon. But perhaps it‘s human instinct that makes it even more imperative to somehow express oneself, convey meaning, connect with others.

Strangely tough to review, story of two immigrant women in Australia (from Africa and Japan) who meet in English language class and their connection as outsiders and mothers. There's some really lovely writing here.
The tough part is the blurb for the book is misleading so that there can be a reveal towards the end of the book. But it feels like a cheap trick and almost ruined my reading experience.
So read the book but don't read the blurb!

You must read this beautiful book. 135 pages of humanity, of the story of women, of the immigrant experience, of how we hurt and heal each other, distilled in gorgeous prose into a simple story of two women and their friendship. A friendship so common, so true. The Europa edition is lovely. I highly recommend this book. While it's topic is timely, it's not preachy or political. It really is the ancient story of friendship that goads and inspires.

Beneath a blue sky, learning to write under a great tree that sheltered her instead of a classroom roof. The first letters she had written with her finger in the sand. ... And after that, the simple prayer that she live another day to greet the sun again

Every soap bubble held a sob, which echoed softly against the bathroom ceiling as it burst.

A new day, a new flight, a new airport waiting, new book.

It's a rainy night here in chicago so rather than try to go out this new year's, we stayed home where it's warm and dry. And I read this novella as my final book of 2018. Only 125 pages, but covers Australian immigration, racism, motherhood, second languages, the meaning of self sufficiency and work. And it matches my crochet project.