A family in New York packs the car and sets out on a road trip. A mother, a father, a boy and a girl, they head south west, to the Apacheria, the regions of the US which used to be Mexico. They drive for hours through desert and mountains. They stop at diners when theyre hungry and sleep in motels when it gets dark. The little girl tells surreal knock knock jokes and makes them all laugh. The little boy educates them all and corrects them when theyre wrong. The mother and the father are barely speaking to each other.
Meanwhile, thousands of children are journeying north, travelling to the US border from Central America and Mexico. A grandmother or aunt has packed a backpack for them, putt
Meanwhile, thousands of children are journeying north, travelling to the US border from Central America and Mexico. A grandmother or aunt has packed a backpack for them, putt
Lost Children Archive
ΠΡΠΎΡ ΡΠΎΠ²Π°Ρ Π·Π°ΠΊΠΎΠ½ΡΠΈΠ»ΡΡ
ΠΠΏΠΈΡΠ°Π½ΠΈΠ΅ ΠΈ Ρ Π°ΡΠ°ΠΊΡΠ΅ΡΠΈΡΡΠΈΠΊΠΈ
Meanwhile, thousands of children are journeying north, travelling to the US border from Central America and Mexico. A grandmother or aunt has packed a backpack for them, putting in a bible, one toy, some clean underwear. They have been met by a coyote: a man who speaks to them roughly and frightens them. They cross a river on rubber tubing and walk for days, saving whatever food and water they can. Then they climb to the top of a train and travel precariously in the open container on top. Not all of them will make it to the border.
In a breath-taking feat of literary virtuosity, Lost Children Archive intertwines these two journeys to create a masterful novel full of echoes and reflections - a moving, powerful, urgent story about what it is to be human in an inhuman world.
- Π’ΠΈΠΏ ΠΎΠ±Π»ΠΎΠΆΠΊΠΈ ΠΡΠ³ΠΊΠΈΠΉ ΠΏΠ΅ΡΠ΅ΠΏΠ»ΡΡ
- ΠΠΎΠ»ΠΈΡΠ΅ΡΡΠ²ΠΎ ΡΡΡΠ°Π½ΠΈΡ 385
- ΠΠ΅Ρ, Π³ 280
- Π Π°Π·ΠΌΠ΅Ρ 2.4x12.8x19.7
- ΠΠ·Π΄Π°ΡΠ΅Π»ΡΡΡΠ²ΠΎ Harper Collins Publishers
- ΠΠΎΠ΄ ΠΈΠ·Π΄Π°Π½ΠΈΡ 2020
- ISBN 978-0-00-829005-4
- ID ΡΠΎΠ²Π°ΡΠ° 2826359
ΠΡΠ·ΡΠ²Ρ
Π£ ΠΌΠ΅Π½Ρ ΡΠΌΠ΅ΡΠ°Π½Π½ΡΠ΅ ΡΡΠ²ΡΡΠ²Π° ΠΏΠΎ ΠΏΠΎΠ²ΠΎΠ΄Ρ ΡΡΠΎΠΉ ΠΊΠ½ΠΈΠ³ΠΈ.
ΠΠ½Π΅ ΠΏΠΎΠ½ΡΠ°Π²ΠΈΠ»ΠΎΡΡ ΠΌΠ½ΠΎΠ³ΠΎΠ΅, ΠΎΡΠΎΠ±Π΅Π½Π½ΠΎ ΡΠ°Π·ΠΌΡΡΠ»Π΅Π½ΠΈΡ ΠΎ Π΄ΠΎΠΊΡΠΌΠ΅Π½ΡΠ°Π»ΡΠ½ΡΡ ΡΠΈΠ»ΡΠΌΠ°Ρ ΠΈ ΡΠ±ΠΎΡ ΠΏΡΠ΅Π΄ΠΌΠ΅ΡΠΎΠ², Π·Π²ΡΠΊΠΎΠ², ΡΠΎΡΠΎΠ³ΡΠ°ΡΠΈΠΉ ΠΈ Π·Π°ΠΏΠΈΡΠ΅ΠΉ. Π ΡΠ°ΠΊΠΆΠ΅ ΠΏΠΎΠ»ΠΈΡΠΈΡΠ΅ΡΠΊΠ°Ρ ΠΏΠΎΠ΄ΠΎΠΏΠ»Π΅ΠΊΠ°, ΠΎΠ±Π»ΠΈΡΠ΅Π½ΠΈΠ΅ ΡΠΎΠ³ΠΎ, ΠΊΠ°ΠΊ Π’ΡΠ°ΠΌΠΏ ΠΎΡΠ½ΠΎΡΠΈΡΡΡ ΠΊ ΠΈΠΌΠΌΠΈΠ³ΡΠ°Π½ΡΠ°ΠΌ ΠΈ ΠΎΡΠΎΠ±Π΅Π½Π½ΠΎ ΠΊ Π΄Π΅ΡΡΠΌ, ΠΎΠ±Π»ΠΈΡΠ΅Π½ΠΈΠ΅ ΡΠΎΠ³ΠΎ, ΠΊΠ°ΠΊ ΠΏΠ΅ΡΠ²ΡΠ΅ Π°ΠΌΠ΅ΡΠΈΠΊΠ°Π½ΡΡ ΠΎΡΠ½ΠΎΡΠΈΠ»ΠΈΡΡ ΠΊ ΠΊΠΎΡΠ΅Π½Π½ΡΠΌ ΠΆΠΈΡΠ΅Π»ΡΠΌ. ΠΠ½Π΅ Π±ΠΎΠ»ΡΡΠ΅ ΠΏΠΎΠ½ΡΠ°Π²ΠΈΠ»Π°ΡΡ ΠΏΠ΅ΡΠ²Π°Ρ ΡΠ°ΡΡΡ ΠΊΠ½ΠΈΠ³ΠΈ (ΡΡΠΎΠ΄Π½ΠΈ Π΄ΠΎΡΠΎΠΆΠ½ΠΎΠΌΡ ΡΠΎΠΌΠ°Π½Ρ), ΠΈ ΠΌΠ΅Π½Ρ ΡΡΠΎΠ½ΡΠ»ΠΎ ΡΠ°ΠΌΠΎΠ΅ ΠΏΠΎΡΠ»Π΅Π΄Π½Π΅Π΅ ΠΎΠΏΠΈΡΠ°Π½ΠΈΠ΅ ΠΏΡΡΠ΅ΡΠ΅ΡΡΠ²ΠΈΡ ΠΏΠΎΡΠ΅ΡΡΠ²ΡΠΈΡ ΡΡ Π΄Π΅ΡΠ΅ΠΉ.
ΠΠΎ Π² ΡΠ΅Π»ΠΎΠΌ ΠΊΠ½ΠΈΠ³Π° ΠΏΠΎΠΊΠ°Π·Π°Π»Π°ΡΡ ΠΌΠ½Π΅ ΡΠ»ΠΈΡΠΊΠΎΠΌ Π½Π΅ΠΎΠ΄Π½ΠΎΡΠΎΠ΄Π½ΠΎΠΉ, Π° Π²ΡΠ΅ Π»ΠΈΡΠ΅ΡΠ°ΡΡΡΠ½ΡΠ΅ ΡΡΡΠ»ΠΊΠΈ - ΡΠ»ΠΈΡΠΊΠΎΠΌ ΠΏΡΠ΅ΡΠ΅Π½ΡΠΈΠΎΠ·Π½ΡΠΌΠΈ.
ΠΠ½Π΅ ΠΏΠΎΠ½ΡΠ°Π²ΠΈΠ»ΠΎΡΡ ΠΌΠ½ΠΎΠ³ΠΎΠ΅, ΠΎΡΠΎΠ±Π΅Π½Π½ΠΎ ΡΠ°Π·ΠΌΡΡΠ»Π΅Π½ΠΈΡ ΠΎ Π΄ΠΎΠΊΡΠΌΠ΅Π½ΡΠ°Π»ΡΠ½ΡΡ ΡΠΈΠ»ΡΠΌΠ°Ρ ΠΈ ΡΠ±ΠΎΡ ΠΏΡΠ΅Π΄ΠΌΠ΅ΡΠΎΠ², Π·Π²ΡΠΊΠΎΠ², ΡΠΎΡΠΎΠ³ΡΠ°ΡΠΈΠΉ ΠΈ Π·Π°ΠΏΠΈΡΠ΅ΠΉ. Π ΡΠ°ΠΊΠΆΠ΅ ΠΏΠΎΠ»ΠΈΡΠΈΡΠ΅ΡΠΊΠ°Ρ ΠΏΠΎΠ΄ΠΎΠΏΠ»Π΅ΠΊΠ°, ΠΎΠ±Π»ΠΈΡΠ΅Π½ΠΈΠ΅ ΡΠΎΠ³ΠΎ, ΠΊΠ°ΠΊ Π’ΡΠ°ΠΌΠΏ ΠΎΡΠ½ΠΎΡΠΈΡΡΡ ΠΊ ΠΈΠΌΠΌΠΈΠ³ΡΠ°Π½ΡΠ°ΠΌ ΠΈ ΠΎΡΠΎΠ±Π΅Π½Π½ΠΎ ΠΊ Π΄Π΅ΡΡΠΌ, ΠΎΠ±Π»ΠΈΡΠ΅Π½ΠΈΠ΅ ΡΠΎΠ³ΠΎ, ΠΊΠ°ΠΊ ΠΏΠ΅ΡΠ²ΡΠ΅ Π°ΠΌΠ΅ΡΠΈΠΊΠ°Π½ΡΡ ΠΎΡΠ½ΠΎΡΠΈΠ»ΠΈΡΡ ΠΊ ΠΊΠΎΡΠ΅Π½Π½ΡΠΌ ΠΆΠΈΡΠ΅Π»ΡΠΌ. ΠΠ½Π΅ Π±ΠΎΠ»ΡΡΠ΅ ΠΏΠΎΠ½ΡΠ°Π²ΠΈΠ»Π°ΡΡ ΠΏΠ΅ΡΠ²Π°Ρ ΡΠ°ΡΡΡ ΠΊΠ½ΠΈΠ³ΠΈ (ΡΡΠΎΠ΄Π½ΠΈ Π΄ΠΎΡΠΎΠΆΠ½ΠΎΠΌΡ ΡΠΎΠΌΠ°Π½Ρ), ΠΈ ΠΌΠ΅Π½Ρ ΡΡΠΎΠ½ΡΠ»ΠΎ ΡΠ°ΠΌΠΎΠ΅ ΠΏΠΎΡΠ»Π΅Π΄Π½Π΅Π΅ ΠΎΠΏΠΈΡΠ°Π½ΠΈΠ΅ ΠΏΡΡΠ΅ΡΠ΅ΡΡΠ²ΠΈΡ ΠΏΠΎΡΠ΅ΡΡΠ²ΡΠΈΡ ΡΡ Π΄Π΅ΡΠ΅ΠΉ.
ΠΠΎ Π² ΡΠ΅Π»ΠΎΠΌ ΠΊΠ½ΠΈΠ³Π° ΠΏΠΎΠΊΠ°Π·Π°Π»Π°ΡΡ ΠΌΠ½Π΅ ΡΠ»ΠΈΡΠΊΠΎΠΌ Π½Π΅ΠΎΠ΄Π½ΠΎΡΠΎΠ΄Π½ΠΎΠΉ, Π° Π²ΡΠ΅ Π»ΠΈΡΠ΅ΡΠ°ΡΡΡΠ½ΡΠ΅ ΡΡΡΠ»ΠΊΠΈ - ΡΠ»ΠΈΡΠΊΠΎΠΌ ΠΏΡΠ΅ΡΠ΅Π½ΡΠΈΠΎΠ·Π½ΡΠΌΠΈ.