Category: Foreign Fiction (Page 1 of 7)

Saying and hearing in Ocean Vuong’s ‘On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous’

by Norris Rettiger

As a bookseller, there’s a lot of motivation to say that a book won’t hurt you. That it won’t make you uncomfortable or give you the sense that you’re running your eyes along something that was never meant for you. But if I told you Ocean Vuong’s novel debut On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous wasn’t going to cut deep and draw blood, wasn’t going to push you away and make you cry, wasn’t going to get under your skin and find its way into your brain, then I wouldn’t be telling you the truth. There’s a moment in the book where Vuong’s stand-in character “Little Dog” has a conversation with his mother and comes to realize that they were “exchanging truths, which is to say… cutting each other.” If there’s room on your heart for another gash or two, this book has truths to exchange.

Casting off the textbook “conflict-driven” narrative, Vuong’s words cascade over the story of a mother and a son and an immigrant family and the brief beauty of so many things that never get to stay beautiful. In equal parts, it is a loving portrait of men and women and a shockingly blunt attack on the culture they were forced to live in. The bottomless poetry of Vuong’s writing paired with such a soulful story will make you forget the word “plot” exists, drawing you completely into this new way of seeing, of breathing, of bleeding. But it won’t let you be comfortable, because this is a book written by and for young queer Vietnamese-Americans. Vuong is clear about that. And so there’s a constant contradiction that gives the book such elasticity and nuance—the words will immerse you completely, or, it will seem like they do, but really the book cannot help but hold us at arm’s length.  Even though the idea of a book communicating something is deemed important by most literary critics, that’s not Vuong’s goal here.

The book is narrated as a letter, but it is not like most epistolary novels: the narrator, Little Dog, is writing to his mother, and she is illiterate. “The very impossibility of your reading this is all that makes my writing possible,” he says. For those of us who can read, and perhaps even do read very frequently, it can be hard to run into a book that so completely believes that we cannot understand it: that it isn’t for us. We say, “no, Vuong, you are wrong, this book is not just for young queer Vietnamese-Americans, that cannot be true, every book is for everyone.” But in that moment we display our ignorance of the fact that this still isn’t about us. Near to the end of the book, the narrator closes a paragraph with a heartbreaking line: “I am worried they will get us before they get us.”

It is not so much about communication as it is about the barriers to that communication. There is so much here in this book; so many specifics that are conveyed with the knowledge that they really can’t be truly understood. There’s a frustration with language and a reaching for the poetry that transcends, while also recognizing that transcendence is really just nothingness. And nowadays, nothingness is a dangerous void that fills rapidly with the ugliness and the divisive rhetoric that enslaves the minds of millions. Ocean Vuong leaves no voids, attempts no grandness, and leaves behind only the cipher of a life—symbols on a page in a book in a hand on the earth in this particular moment. And that’s not nothing. That’s something—and that’s the thing that matters the most.

And so, as a bookseller, I have a problem with communication, too. I can’t tell you how you’re going to react to this book, and I can’t even adequately and reasonably express my own experience with it. But that’s okay. Because it’s not always about communication. Sometimes things just need to be said, and sometimes it works out that the thing that’s said is heard by someone, and sometimes that thing gets heard in a way that makes it understood more than it was before. Maybe not by much, but maybe by a little, and that little bit finds itself remembered. And that remembering turns that understanding into a memory and memory might, someday, give us a second chance—Vuong writes obsessively about second chances. Because second chances are the opportunity to remember, to allow ourselves to learn.

And there is something in it for us, the people who this book “isn’t for.” There’s a reason to dive in and take the shock and pain with gritted teeth and open heart—because every second spent reading this book will be a chance for us to become more, to become more human, to become more “us.”

Signed first editions of On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous are currently available at Lemuria’s online store.

Khaled Hosseini’s ‘Sea Prayer’ is a powerful plea for peace and safety

Khaled Hosseini writes beautiful books. My favorite is (was?) A Thousand Splendid Suns, a heart-wrenching, lush novel that follows two generations of Afghan women beginning from before the Soviet invasion and to after their ouster and the rise of the Taliban. One of my favorite aspects of Suns is that it’s a 700+ page book that doesn’t read like an endless tome. The writing is rapid and fluid, with equal attention given to plot, detail, and character.

Hosseini’s newest book, Sea Prayer, is the exact opposite, with one striking similarity. It’s short, airy, yet still strikingly beautiful. The writing is spare—the text is spread across 20 pages that are adorned with lovely watercolors by London-based illustrator Dan Williams—and stylistically, a departure from Hosseini’s typical dense prose. Framed as a letter from a fictitious father (i.e., not Hosseini) to his son, Sea Prayer explains why the family had to flee Homs, Syria, during the son’s toddler years. But before documenting the strife and violence, the narrator describes a Syria vastly different from the one we all know now. It was a “bustling” place with “a mosque for us Muslims, a church for our Christian neighbors,” a vibrant market filled with sounds and wonder, a home filled with family and peace.

Then, things changed: protests; a siege; “The skies spitting bombs. Starvation. Burials.” This is the Homs that the narrator’s son has lived in as far as his young memory can stretch. Now, they live in a Syria from which, for their own lives’ protection, they must flee. So the narrator and his family find themselves waiting on the shore for a boat to spirit them away to someplace without bombs and burials. First, though, they must cross the sea, “how vast, how indifferent,” a thing against which the father finds himself entirely powerless—much like the monster the father is running from.

And it’s this running from that strikes me about Sea Prayer. It’s a reminder that when people run toward new countries, they are often running away from horror and murder, away from bombs and burials. They’re not invading so much as evading.

Hosseini’s narrator prays that the sea understands this, and I don’t think I’m too far off base in assuming that this is Hosseini’s prayer for us as well. Hosseini has stated that his inspiration for Sea Prayer came from the image of young Alan Kurdi, a three-year-old Syrian boy who drowned in the Mediterranean Sea as his family sought safety in Europe. The proceeds from Sea Prayer will go to various charities supporting refugee aid. In this, the book pulls a double duty: it affects both the world in which we live and the hearts of those who read it, much like a prayer should.

Signed first editions of Sea Prayer are currently available at Lemuria.

Francophile Friday: Fiction

By Annerin Long

French literature has a long and rich history, dating back to the Song of Roland in the 11th and 12th centuries to modern day masters, including two recipients of the Nobel Prize for Lieterature in the 21st century alone (J.M.G. le Clézio in 2008 and Patrick Modiano in 2014). Today, Alliance Française de Jackson members are closing out le Mois de la Francophonie with a few of their favorite novels from French authors.

count of monte cristoOne of my all-time favorite books–French or not–is The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas. I read this in my pre-Francophile days, but the great adventure, even if sometimes predictable, has always stayed with me and in my opinion, has rightfully earned its place among the great classics.

Wandering Star by le Clézio is a powerful book set during World War II and the years immediately after and tells the story of two young girls whose paths briefly cross, each impacting the other for years to come. This is a book of survival and change and growth in the middle of often unthinkable circumstances.

Non-fiction books from Peter Mayle and Marcel Pagnol have been mentioned in other Francophile Friday editions. Jeanne Cook also lists these authors among her favorites in fiction. Mayle’s Chasing Cézanne takes readers on a mystery through the jet-setter, art-collector world, while Pagnol’s Jean de Florette and Manon of the Springs have been described as Greek tragedy set in Provence.

If you enjoy reading books set in France, regardless of the author’s nationality, Carl Cerco suggests Chocolat (a best-selling book before the movie, and aren’t the books always better?) by Joanne Harris, in which newcomer-to-town Vianne Rocher turns the town upside down with her magical boxes of chocolate. all the light we canot seeTwo recent books that completely captured me were All the Light We Cannot See (Anthony Doerr), a World War II tale told from two perspectives. Perhaps the twist of the story is predictable, but this didn’t detract from the suspense. Paris in the Present Tense (Mark Helprin; sadly, I missed his visit to Lemuria last year) is likewise beautifully written, telling the story of widower Jules Lacour, a septuagenarian who must face his past and make difficult decisions for the future, set in a modern Paris with both its good and bad.

I’m going to finish today with a book (or rather, seven) that I confess I have not read all the way through: Marcel Proust’s In Search of Lost Time. I’m attempting to read this one in French, so it’s slow going for this seven-volume work. The best way to tackle this 20th century masterpiece? With madeleines, of course (there is a great recipe in Ladurée’s Sucré, featured in the first Francophile Friday post.

Other recommendations

About the Alliance Française de Jackson
The Alliance Française de Jackson is a non-profit organization with the mission of promoting French language and culture in the Metro Jackson area. This is done through language classes and other educational programs, cultural programming, and special events centered around French celebrations. Many of our members speak French, but it is not a requirement, and we welcome all who love the language and cultures of the Francophone world.

North Vietnamese soldier’s story is complex, compelling

By Lisa Newman

sorrow of war 2Bao Ninh features prominently in Ken Burns and Lynn Novick’s series on the Vietnam War. Ninh is a Vietnamese writer and former North Vietnamese soldier. Ninh’s novel, The Sorrow of War, is one of the only pieces of Vietnam War literature to make it out of Vietnam.

Published in Vietnam in 1991, the novel stands out for its descriptions and lack of sentimentality. Most of the Vietnamese war literature was heavy with patriotism, stories of slaughter and bravery. Not surprisingly, the Vietnam War literature of the United States could not move beyond the North Vietnamese soldier as a faceless “gook” or northing more than the “NVA” or “VC.”

Ninh weaves a complex story, told in stream-of-consciousness style. The work is a descriptive account of a solider’s experience of war, but also a love story–one not lost in the original Vietnamese title, Thân Phân Cûa Tinh Yêu, or The Destiny of Love.

The novel was controversial for the Vietnamese government–as it presented the first individual human perspective on the experience of war, the loss of human life and love, as well as life after the war–while it won great respect from Vietnamese and American veterans. American critics have compared the novel to Erich Maria Remarque’s World War I novel, All Quiet on the Western Front (1929).

sorrow of war UPFirst published in Vietnam in a low-budget format by the Writers Association Publishing House of Hanoi in 1991, the book was translated into raw English by Phan Thanh Hao and rewritten by Australian war journalist and author Frank Palmos. At this point, the English translation was given the title “The Sorrow of War” and was published in Great Britain by Secker and Warburg in 1993 and in the United States by Pantheon in 1995.

Ninh has never published another book, but he reports editing a weekly literary publication in Hanoi for many years. In a 2006 interview, Ninh remarks on the changing political climate of Vietnam and the lessening of government propaganda. Despite the relaxing of tensions, he explains that writing has been difficult since the publication of The Sorrow of War.

“I became famous, so people know about me and other writers respect me…but it also affected me badly because I became self-conscious.”

As Vietnamese and Americans talk more about the war and its aftermath, perhaps it will be easier for Ninh and other Vietnamese writers to share their stories.

A Season of Subtle Scandinavian Scrutiny: Knausgaard’s ‘Autumn’

Karl Ove Knausgaard

Karl Ove Knausgaard

Karl Ove Knausgaard has become an infamous contemporary writer by his beautiful prose and raw portrayal of human experience. His massive soon-to-be six volume, autobiographical series dubbed My Struggle has made an irrefutable mark by vividly cataloguing Knausgaard’s ordinary Swedish life and the challenges that come along with it. Essentially, My Struggle is the 3,600-page memoir to end all memoirs. While readers are still awaiting the release of My Struggle’s sixth volume, Knausgaard has begun a new project. Autumn begins another deeply personal adventure for the Norwegian writer as he begins to explain the world to one who has yet to enter it, Karl Ove’s unborn daughter.

I want to show you our world as it is now: the door, the floor, the water tap and the sink, the garden chair close to the wall beneath the kitchen window, the sun, the water, the trees. You will come to see it in your own way, you will experience things for yourself and live a life of your own, so of course it is primarily for my own sake that I am doing this: showing you the world little one, makes my life worth living.

autumnNow, at first glance, you may think that this is a heavy book and by “heavy,” I mean emotionally heavy. I won’t lie to you and say that isn’t in there, but amidst the rawness of Karl Ove’s descriptions there lies a certain beauty that is just as much frightening as it is entrancing. As Knausgaard begins to describe the world to his daughter, he engages in deep reflections on everything from cars to war, Flaubert to twilight, and bottles to beekeeping. What follows is a refreshing view of ordinary life as it is explained to one who has not yet experienced anything outside of a mother’s womb. In essays like “Lightning,” the author delves into the odd relationship between horror and beauty as he and his family watch a gigantic bolt of lightning hit the street outside their home. In “Flaubert,” the author reflects upon his favorite novel and the distinction between literary enjoyment and study. The heart of each meditation is the urge of the author to find what exactly it is that makes life worth living. As Knausgaard takes on each new topic, describing it as though it has never been seen, the reader is brought into the depths of the real and at times the philosophical. “Labia,” as an example, explores the complexity of male sexuality and the shame that often follows closely behind it. “Vomit” takes opportunity to explore the plethora of bodily fluids that we are all familiar with, but puts inquiry into the generally hatred that human beings have for that which is “usually yellowish” and still contains “chunks of pizza” and other remnants of the “undigested.”

At the heart of Knausgaard’s project is the desire to get back at the reality of life and to leave behind the routine prejudices that we allow to filter our view of the world. Through explaining the world to his daughter, the author as well as the reader is confronted with the raw beauty and the absurdity of life. Each time I finished a sitting with these essays, I somehow walked away feeling more real. Like my perception of the world had been sharpened and I had the tools necessary to appreciate the nuts and bolts that make up the world around us.

by Taylor Langele

Be Hair Now: ‘Norma’ by Sofi Oksanen

normaYou might think that having magic hair that’s attuned to your emotions would be a blessing, but the titular character in Norma (by Finnish-Estonian writer Sofi Oksanen) would disagree. Norma is an ordinary woman whose hair corkscrews and kinks when she feels strong emotions, such as danger or guilt. It also happens to grow about a meter a day, causing Norma to have to constantly cut it off so that no one notices. The only person that knows Norma’s secret is her mother, Anita.

As it happens, Norma opens up on the day of Anita’s funeral. Anita has committed suicide by throwing herself in front of train, or so we’re led to believe. The first inkling Norma has that something is off is when her hair starts to corkscrew when meeting a stranger at the funeral.

While it is Norma’s name who’s on the cover, I think it’s safe to say that this book actually has three main characters. Norma, obviously, is the focus of book, but alternating chapters are in a woman named Marion’s point of view. Marion is the daughter of Anita’s best friend. Marion works for her father in the seedy underworld of the hair extension business. The third main character is Anita herself. Through video diaries that Anita has left for Norma to find, Norma finds out the history of why her hair is the way it is.

There are lots of little kinks and turns in that lead you down paths you hadn’t fathomed would happen. The sub-chapters are short so it feels as if you’re flying through; I read the first half of the book in a span of about two and a half hours. Normally, I don’t like alternating points of view, but I think it’s masterfully done in Norma. I’m invested in both Norma and Marion, so I didn’t feel impatient while reading through one or the other. On the surface this may seem like a book about hair, but it’s so much more. It’s an artful look into what would happen if your best asset was also your worst, if your blessing was also your curse.

And the Stars Look Very Different Today: Jaroslav Kalfar’s ‘Spaceman of Bohemia’

I’m not much of a sci-fi guy. Enjoying certain popular films like Interstellar or works like The Martian has never been outside my personal realm of possibility, but am I going to go out and search for the most brilliant and obscure work of sci-fi literature? Probably not. That being said, it might have found me. spaceman of bohemiaJaroslav Kalfar’s Spaceman of Bohemia is a novel that fits just as comfortably on the shelf next to Kafka as it does in the realm of sci-fi and space adventure. This is a novel that perfectly captures the feelings of loneliness and anxiety that can only come through accepting ambition while subsequently affirming the need to ground personal identity outside oneself, whether it be in love or in history. However, in order to feel out how Kalfar’s work stands out among the rest, it helps to understand the world of the author.

Sitting at the edge of Eastern Europe, Prague is the capital city of the Czech Republic and is traditionally considered to be the center of Bohemia. The Prague of the protagonist, Jakub Prochazka begins in 1948 when the Communist Party took power and all other parties became officially deceased.

My name is Jakub Prochazka. This is a common name. My parents wanted a good life for me, a life of good comradeship with my country and my neighbors, a life of service to the world united in socialism.

Jakub’s father is an informant for the Communist regime with a secret affinity for Elvis Presley and a deep love for his family. At an early age, Jakub admires his father for his dedication to the ethos of his nation, but with the fall of the Iron Curtain the success of the Velvet Revolution in Prague, and the mysterious death of his parents, Jakub is launched into a void of personal identity that can only be captured in the grand metaphor of space travel. In an attempt to distinguish itself as an autonomous nation, the Czech Republic chooses Jakub to embark on a potentially dangerous space mission to investigate a mysterious, purple space cloud that no national superpower is willing to risk its citizens to understand. Jakub leaves his comfortable life with his wife Lenka and a prestigious position as a professor of astrophysics to claim fame and purpose for himself and his nation. As days, weeks, then months pass in his voyage, Jakub realizes the gravity (no pun intended) of the voyage itself, and the strain that it would put on his relationships back home. Then he meets a giant space spider.

hanus the spider

To those of you that are completely freaked out by this image, I will say that I was, too. However, I will also say that after finishing the novel I LOVE Hanus the spider. As Jakub struggles with space madness he (and the reader) attempt to deal with the meaning of Hanus’ presence. I don’t want to give away too much but I will say that Hanus is at once at the center of Jakub’s peril and his guide through it.

While this novel takes on weighty themes and attempts at complex insights, it also reads seamlessly. Jaroslav’s voice through Jakub’s first person narration is at once hilarious and impactful. This Czech astronaut’s story, if nothing else, proves that you don’t need to go to space to venture into the balance between madness and sanity that we all experience in everyday life.

by Taylor Langele

Julia ‘Delights’ in Sharma’s short stories

by Julia Blakeney

life of adventure and delight

Akhil Sharma’s third book, a collection of eight short stories entitled A Life of Adventure and Delight, is complex in a way that I did not anticipate. Throughout their individual stories, a host of interesting characters find out what it means to be a good person. Each story has a way of making you think it is over, but each leaves the reader with the sense there is always so much more to it. Each story holds so much emotion and feeling. Along with an ever-present theme of loving despite flaws, there is an overarching theme of exposing the inner workings of the human heart juxtaposed with the deepest traditions of Indian culture. At times both darkly comedic and deeply emotional, these eight stories present the many different complex relationships between humans which require love: husbands and wives, parents and children, and even friends and enemies.

I am not sure I have ever read a more moving collection of short stories. Each story seems to have its own individual impact on the reader. I was riveted from the very beginning. This collection is immensely enjoyable, lovable, and quotable.

“It’s a big world. A lot of people are worth loving. Why love someone mediocre?”

Dislocation, fantasy roil in ‘A Life of Adventure and Delight’ by Akhil Sharma

By Paul Rankin. Special to the Clarion-Ledger Sunday print edition (July 16).

life of adventure and delightIn Akhil Sharma’s collection, A Life of Adventure and Delight (W.W. Norton), we meet a sequence of remarkable characters in the throes of profound dislocation.

Five of the eight stories take place in the United States, while the remaining three occur in India. All, however, focus on characters struggling to preserve cultural roots and traditions even as they feel themselves getting swept along by the forces of modernity and westernization. These struggles produce narratives which are by degrees horrifying, heartbreaking, and hilarious.

In the opening scene of the opening story, for instance, we meet Gopal Maurya, recently abandoned by his daughter (Gita) and wife (Anita) and sleeping on a couch in the living room. Having banished himself from his own bed “in a burst of self-hate,” he’s resolved “to avoid comforting himself with any illusions that his life was normal.”

The absent women provide immediate backdrop for Gopal’s despair; together they also function more broadly, as a controlling metaphor which informs the dramatic tensions throughout and creates a coherence and unity that may collections lack.

Gita has become fully westernized; Anita has returned to India where she met a guru, achieved enlightenment, and moved into an ashram to sweep floors and pray. Left behind, cut off from every familiar thing, Gopal fantasizes about “calling an ambulance so that he could be touched.”

When his neighbor Mrs. Shaw comes over to borrow the lawnmower, he attempts “to extend their time together” by tangling “her in conversation.” Through she won’t even accept a drink–“Orange juice, apple juice, or grape, pineapple, guava. I also have some tropical punch”–Gopal clumsily pursues her, visiting a hair stylist rather than his “usual barber” and reading articles in popular magazines like Cosmopolitan for advice about what makes a good lover. Along the way, Gopal also fights to preserve his tenuous connection to the past by becoming involved in the Indian Cultural Association.

Each subsequent story centers on the particular desires and frustrations of its individual protagonist, but each explores similar themes of conflicted longing. In the wake of a recent tragedy, a young boy prays daily before a traditional Hindu altar at the same time he attempts to make sense of his loss by identifying with iconic western superheroes like Batman and Superman for whom personal catastrophe became the catalyst that reveled their true greatness.

A temple pandit places his cellphone on the cushion beside him while performing sacred burial rights and when, “Periodically it would ring, and he would gesture for (the others) to keep singing while he answered…with one hand played the harmonium with the other.”

A doctoral student at NYU uses the internet to hire prostitutes while maintaining the conviction that “any Indian girl who had sex before marriage had something wrong with her was in some way depraved and foul, and also unintelligent.”

A young woman, living abroad in America, soothes the pain of isolation by drinking more and more until “the drink overtook her,” at which point her husband “sends her back to her parents” knowing they “will kill her, because the shame of having an alcoholic as a daughter…is staggering.”

These stories are poignant, gripping, and subtly profound in their investigation of the moral complexities confronting all citizens of an increasingly globalized society. Each stands alone in its own right. At the same time, largely because of how deftly Sharma weaves these common threads of alienation and dislocation throughout, the sum is far greater than its parts.

Paul Rankin holds an MFA in fiction from Warren Wilson College, works as a freelance writer and editor, and is on the verge of finishing his first novel. He lives in Jackson with his family.

A Life of Adventure and Delight is the July 2017 selection of the Lemuria First Edition Club. Its author, Akhil Sharma, will appear at Lemuria on Tuesday, July 18, at 5:00 to sign and 5:30 to read.

Omnia Vincit Amor: ‘Exit West’ by Mohsin Hamid

Exit West is the first novel I’ve ever read by Mohsin Hamid, but it undoubtedly will not be the last! Hamid touches on relationships, religion, immigration, and social interactions, all with a beautiful style of magical realism that flowed so well I simply didn’t want to put it down.

In a city swollen by refugees but still mostly at peace, or at least not yet openly at war, a young man met a young woman in a classroom and did not speak to her. For many days.

exit westThis is how the story of Nadia and Saeed begins, in a country teetering on the brink of a civil war. The dangerous country is never named, but it is obvious that it is somewhere in the Middle East. People are living here in constant fear, people are shot on their way to work, and sometimes even in their own homes.

Nadia is a fiercely independent women living alone, who wears a black robe from head to toe. She does not do this for religious purposes. In fact she never prays; she’s simply comfortable doing what she wants to do. Saeed is religious, lives at home with a loving family and prays almost daily, yet is much more unsure of himself. Both are very intrigued by one another and they begin a relationship amidst the growing war within their country. They start off as close friends and then slowly begin to realize how much of a physical, social, and intellectual connection they have with one another.

As the relationship between them begins to pick up, so does the war within their country. New curfews are put into place, and the government begins to cut electricity and cell phone services, making Nadia and Saeed fear for one another’s safety. Their country is becoming unlivable for them. They soon begin to hear about ‘doors’ throughout their city and country. These doors are rumored to transport people away from their terrible city and to a new location.  The tricky thing about these doors is that one cannot pick the location of their destination, and therefore they may end up in a new country as an unwanted immigrant. Nadia and Saeed decide to take the leap and pay for someone to find a door for them. They feel as if they have lost everything, and that they simply cannot have a life worth living in their country. They are willing to take the risk of being an immigrant or even refugee if it means that they can have a better life.

 

Moshin Hamid

Moshin Hamid

I know, this is a magical twist that may turn some people away…but I promise, the story is still just as powerful. You still see the stress and uncertainty that comes with a new relationship, even more so with one in a country at war with itself. You see family relationships at their best and at their worst. You also get a look into the life of refugees and how, even though they’re in the same situation, people can turn on one another quickly.  In our world today, refugees are often painted in a negative light. Hamid takes you into the mindset of a refugee and helps bring back the humanity that’s often lost in today’s world. Nadia and Saeed love one another, they love friends and family, they have relationships, they lose relationships, they’re people who are fighting to just make it out of a situation that they want no part of. They’re fighting for one another, they’re fighting for themselves, and they’re fighting for others around them. In the end, Hamid has written an extraordinary novel about love and loss in the mists of war.

I’m a fan. I can’t wait for more from Mohsin Hamid. Exit Westis fantastic.

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