Abstract

Brought together through a coincidence of publishing, these two books form a remarkable pair when read together: the limpid narrative of a Togolese who heads north to live in Greenland because of a boyhood encounter with a book about Eskimos; and the edgy fragments of a Swede who heads south to lose himself in the Western Sahara after reading too many desert books by nineteenth-century Europeans. At times, An African in Greenland and Desert Divers become so exactly symmetrical—in the manner of a photographic positive and negative—that it is difficult to see one apart from the other.

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