Suchergebnisse

I had a great-grandmother who lived two doors away from us. She and I were constantly together. But one thing I do remember is when we left Italy. A few days before, she and I took a walk to her land and she was very, very sad. She said, "Ah." She said, "you're going to America now. Someday you will remember me." But, "she said, "remember when you get there, when you reach the Battery there is a row of fountains there. You have, to see that there is one, find out which one it is, that you cannot drink out of. Because when you drink from that certain fountain you're going to forget all of us that you're leaving here." So when I arrived at the Battery I was looking for the row of fountains, but I didn't see the row of fountains. So I said I guess since I didn't see them it must be okay. She also wanted me to write and tell her about the Brooklyn Bridge, because she had heard about the Brooklyn Bridge. But she died before I saw the Brooklyn Bridge. Today, when I'm driving along, many, many times I think of her. The words echo in my memory. "You're going to America now. Some day you will remember me."

INEVITABLY, reviewers of The Caged Virgin are caught between judging the ins and outs of Ayaan Hirsi Ali's celebrity and evaluating the book itself, which is a loose (and often redundant) assemblage of brief articles, interviews, fragments of autobiography, an open letter of advice and encouragement to Muslim women who want to leave home, and the script for Submission. Hirsi AIi is, above all, disputatious; she is angry, passionate, and hits the ground arguing-with western policymakers, liberal multiculturalists, and anyone soft on such cultural practices as female genital mutilation, honor killings of women for lost virginity or any other form of independence, forced marriages, domestic violence, narrow religion-based education, or censorship through fatwa.