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    סופרת, מתרגמת, מבקרת ספרים בעיתון הארץ ועורכת עצמאית מחברת הספרים: אמסטל (הוצאת הקיבוץ המאוחד 2007) דיונות החול של פריז (הוצאת הקיבוץ המאוחד 2013) הוטל מלטה (הוצאת הקיבוץ המאוחד 2015) לכי, רצפי את הים (הקיבוץ המאוחד 2018) מרצה בארץ ובחו"ל Edna Shemesh is the Author of: Amstel, stories, Hakibbutz Hameuchad Publishers, 2007 The Sand Dunes of Paris, Hakibbutz Hameuchad Publishers, 2013 Hotel Malta, Hakibbutz Hameuchad Publishres, 2015 Edna Shemesh is a translator, editor and literary reviewer at Haaretz daily Gives Lectures in Israel and abroad about the influence her being second generation to holocaust survivors has had on her life and writing

An excerpt from The Sand Dunes of Paris

The translation into English of The Sand Dunes of Paris has been completed. I will publish short excerpts from the book from time to time. Here's the first: The Sand Dunes of Paris by Edna Shemesh Translated by Charles S. Kamen Later he washed and lay down again. Unable to sleep, he browsed through one of the brochures Alice occasionally gives him. She brings them to him from her job at the travel agency, “If reading them is too difficult, at least look at the pictures, you won’t believe what the world has to offer.” He paged through the brochure: a trip to Morocco, to the Bahamas, a Holy Land pilgrimage, an organized tour to Madagascar. Madagascar? Where’s Madagascar? In the double-period geography lesson, in the sweltering classroom, facing pairs of staring eyes, the teacher slowly rotated on its metal stand the large globe made of tightly stretched leather, stopped when he reached his destination. Albert, who sat in the front row, next to Aziz the crybaby, craned his neck to better see the shape of the African continent as soon as the teacher’s pointing finger lifted from Lake Victoria where the White Nile begins its winding journey. During the short break between the two periods Albert waited on line at the globe which the teacher had left on his desk, supervised by one of the monitors, pushed by other impatient, curious children like himself who pressed against him, at the mercy of the monitor who chose which pupils could approach the globe. He barely reached the round, leather ball he yearned for, and when he succeeded he turned it to Australia and devoured with his eyes distant parts of the world with mysterious names like Papua, the Sea of Bismarck, New Zealand, Tasmania. When recess had ended and the second lesson began Albert rested his head in his palms and mounted Aziz’s pregnant jenny and made her sprout wings to fly him to Tasmania. Just when he’d landed on the island’s shore the teacher tweaked his ear because he hadn’t answered a question he’d been asked, only smiled foolishly. A large photo filled the glossy page of Alice’s brochure. The lovely illustration was all Albert needed to imagine the pregnant, winged jenny, who’d since foaled a number of gray colts and had died of old age, carrying him to the knife-sharp, fan-shaped range of hills in the nature preserve which could only be visited with an escort by a local guide, preferably from July to September, nor did he know Madagascar was the fourth largest island on earth. Actually, he didn’t even know it was an island. The caption below the photo read: If you really want an adventure, visit the jagged, sharp, gray chalk cliffs of the Tsingy de Bemaraha Nature Reserve in western Madagascar – a World Heritage Site since…. He immediately made himself more comfortable and began reading the article. There was a small photo on the facing page of a giant, two-foot long green lizard, next to an illustration of an Aepyornis maximus, commonly known as an elephant bird, which was almost ten feet tall, weighed almost half a ton and whose egg was approximately three feet in diameter. It’s thought Aepyornis became extinct one thousand years ago, certainly no less than three hundred. The nature reserve, read Albert attentively, contains seven species of baobab trees, and giant tamarinds. Alice’s brochure recommended to those preferring a more comfortable trip a visit to the Berenty Reserve on the southwest portion of the island where impudent lemurs jump on the tourists’ bungalows to snatch food. Albert signed, dropped the brochure by the foot of the bed and turned out the light even though it wasn’t late. © All rights reserved to Edna Shemesh

2 תגובות

  1. I apologize for the cramped page. There's nothing I can do about it despite the fact the that the original looks much better. I You are most welcome to read it the page called The Sand in facebook

  2. I meant in the page in facebook called The Sand Dunes of Paris

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