This small book is about a small island country (9 miles by 12 miles in size) called Antigua.
I think it's a wonderfully moving book written by a passionate (and greatly indignant) author. The narration starts in the second person, addressing the reader and transmogrifying him into a tourist. 'An ugly tourist'.
I can sympathise with the author's sentiments: the anger towards colonisers, the anger towards the bleached culture that you didn't even get the chance to experience, the anger towards the enslavement and displacement of lives. It is hard to forgive something that is done and harder still to appease your vehemence when the fact is, these wrong-doers are dead, there is nothing you can do about it and yet, their lasting damage you are still living.
In saying that I don't support the (anti-white) racism. Different cultures appear both alien to one another. I would agree that discontent and self-absorbed depression is a strange western disease, though - or at least, it is something that Western cultures recognise as a proper ailment deserving of medical attention and drugs.
This book makes me want to visit Antigua. Although I'm not sure how welcome I'd be being a tourist. Hey, I'm not white.
The author's description of Antigua is so alluring.
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