What is the moment, that exact moment when everything changes and the friends you have been, become the lovers you might be? Soul mates from birth Karim and Raheen finish one another’s sentences, speak in anagrams and lie spine to spine as children. They are irrevocably bound to one another and to Karachi, Pakistan. It beats in their hearts – violent, polluted, corrupt, vibrant, brave and ultimately, home. However, Raheen is fiercely loyal and naively blinkered and she resents Karim’s need to map their city, his need to name its streets and to expand the privileged world they know. When Karim is forced to leave for London their differences of opinion become a painful quarrel. As the years go by they let a barrier of silence build between them until, finally, they are brought together during a dry summer of strikes and ethnic violence and their relationship is poised between strained friendship and fated love. Impassioned and touching, “Kartography” is a love song to Karachi. In her extraordinary new novel, Kamila Shamsie shows us that whatever happens in the world, we must never forget the complicated war in our own hearts.
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Excerpts From: Kamila, Shamsie. “Kartography.”
“I pulled Karim’s pillow slightly closer to me and put my head down, grateful for being able to sleep spine to spine with Karim as I had done in the days when cameras in the hands of our parents formed the only memories we were ever to have of those earliest gestures of intimacy. Why grateful? Because sometimes you know you’re standing on a cusp, and you know that in knowing it you’ve gone past the cusp over to the other side, or at least almost entirely so, entirely except for one toe that still hangs on to childhood; one toe or one finger or one shoulder blade curving back to meet another shoulder blade which curves forward to meet yours in a reminder that, if you had wings, this, right here, is where they would sprout.”
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“I was looking at old pictures,’ I said. ‘Karim has your smile. But you don’t have it any more.’
He looked taken aback for a moment, then laughed without much humour. ‘You’re growing into a perceptive young woman, aren’t you?’ He put an arm round me. ‘Karim has it mainly when you’re around. It’s a moonsmile. No light of its own unless there’s a sun for it to reflect off.”
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