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320 pages, Paperback
First published December 1, 2011
London was quiet to Iman. The traffic, planes and people worked along allocated channels. They moved along the grooves cut out for them. It was not a world shaken down and cut through night after night. The noise was conformist and the talk and expressions appeared to operate on one level only. People behaved in ways that seemed unconnected to others. Their actions had repercussions only for themselves. There was an enviable ability to relinquish involvement in the bigger picture, to believe that it was all under control, that somebody with your interests in mind was looking out for you. [p.185]
"You just don't get. it, do you? You can't just go around showing your dirty laundry in public - dope, corruption, hypocrisy, all that crap that you're so good at. Keep it to yourself. You can't afford the luxury of showing that off."
"We can't just present ourselves as graciously suffering all the time either. The stress of that place: people feel suicidal. When they get just a whiff of what freedom feels like they do strange things. That's understandable, isn't it? It's not like anywhere else." He tried to hold her arm but she moved away from him. "Come on, Lisa, I was out for the evening having a meal, I thought, with you and your friends. I didn't know I was expected to sound like some zealot standing outside a mosque shouting propaganda." [pp.143-4]