INVASIVE SPECIES By Marwa Helal
Marwa Helal has lived, not always by her own choice, both in Egypt and in America, belonging to both countries and to neither: “I have been missing home my entire life,” she writes. In the same way, Helal’s first and often stellar book belongs to many categories, and to none. It contains prose and verse; polemic and introspection; remixed pop lyrics and pellucid memoir; straightforward narration and constellated word games. The volume shows her powers — and her amply justified anger — in most of those forms.
Helal grew up in Ohio, the child of an Egyptian academic; during the early 2000s she applied for permanent residency in the United States but “aged out,” turned 21 and became ineligible “as a result of I.N.S. processing delays.” In consequence, she had to “return” to Egypt. There she made a new life for herself while applying, again and again, for the right to live in the country where her family made their home.
At its worst Helal’s America is “a country that ensures we are harassed for being whoever we are presumed to be and never who we actually are.” She adds: “I come back because I am American. … It is hard because I am Egyptian.” Helal’s essay on her departure and her return takes up most of her book. That essay has 26 prose sections, each taking its title fromanother letter of the English alphabet: “One-800-Immigration” for O, “Permanent Resident” for P, “White men,” “the X in Brexit.” That essay’s sad, or shocking, moments build to a muted, perhaps optimistic conclusion: “The America I return to is the one we are making together.”
Other, shorter segments of the volume show just as much fire, and more variety. The more-than-clever opening piece introduces a form that Helal dubs “the Arabic,” whose lines must be read (like Arabic) right to left as well as left to right: “language first my learned i / … for mistaken am i native / go i everywhere.” An ode to DJ Khaled imagines his music as a resource for displaced Palestinians: “yours is the rhythm they rebuild to / what do you say, / we give them all the keys?” A poem called “reality show” proposes TV premises with global and topical bite: “amazing race for clean water,” for example, or “survivor: post-deportation edition.” Other passages manifest hip-hop cadence: “I was made invasive species beast of no nation … a pitted bubblesong of zebra bones spread against an empire of skinned accusation.”
Helal’s title puns on the ecological concept of invasive species (like Asian carp in United States lakes) and on the notion that immigrants cannot belong here. The poet may be safe in Brooklyn now, but how many others — how many other Arabic speakers, how many Arab-Americans, how many African-Americans — are not? How many are still seen, and by whom, as illegitimate, or as invaders? How, and when, can that cruel misprision end? Such questions generate Helal’s best work: “This is how trauma learns to behave,” she explains, “how i learn to push against the page.” It is a push that could, and should, open doors.B:
大赢家高手论坛297666.com【赵】【子】【追】【想】【起】【了】。 【他】【想】【起】【了】【当】【年】【在】【桃】【花】【源】【遇】【到】【的】【宛】【若】【仙】【神】【的】【桃】【花】【妖】，【想】【起】【了】【为】【仙】【君】【命】【断】【花】【林】【的】【赵】【一】，【想】【起】【了】【总】【是】【捉】【摸】【不】【透】【的】【一】【代】【军】【师】，【想】【起】【了】【自】【己】【会】【等】【到】【他】【的】【承】【诺】，【想】【起】【了】【张】【孝】，【想】【起】【了】【白】【离】，【想】【起】【了】【徐】【庶】，【想】【起】【了】【庞】【统】，【想】【起】【了】【太】【多】【太】【多】【遇】【见】【过】【的】【人】…… 【一】【时】【间】，【痛】【苦】【占】【据】【了】【他】【的】【脑】【海】。 【那】【些】【曾】【经】【在】【脑】【海】【中】
“【到】【了】，【先】【生】。” 【慕】【若】【兮】【看】【了】【一】【眼】【唐】【宣】【时】，【拿】【起】【自】【己】【的】【包】【包】，【推】【开】【车】【门】【离】【开】【这】【里】。 【还】【未】【走】【进】【大】【厅】，【就】【被】【自】【己】【的】【妈】【妈】【拦】【住】。 【乔】【云】【满】【是】【担】【忧】【的】【看】【着】【自】【己】【的】【女】【儿】，【眼】【眶】【微】【红】：“【你】【这】【个】【死】【丫】【头】，【到】【了】M【国】【也】【不】【和】【我】【们】【联】【系】，【这】【两】【年】【也】【不】【知】【道】【你】【在】M【国】【是】【怎】【么】【度】【过】【的】，【怎】【么】【瘦】【了】【这】【么】【多】？” “【妈】，【我】【没】【事】。”【慕】
【整】【齐】【的】【脚】【步】【声】【从】【门】【外】【传】【来】。 【奥】【摩】【休】【在】【床】【上】【弓】【起】【身】【体】，【紧】【紧】【地】【盯】【着】【病】【房】【的】【木】【门】。 “【别】【太】【紧】【张】，【不】【一】【定】【冲】【着】【你】【来】。”【坦】【顿】【纳】【同】【样】【注】【视】【着】【木】【门】，“【如】【果】【真】【的】【冲】【着】【你】【来】……”【坦】【顿】【纳】【没】【有】【说】【完】，【门】【外】【的】【脚】【步】【声】【停】【下】。 【木】【门】【被】【推】【开】，【四】【个】【黑】【铠】【黑】【盔】【的】【王】【室】【禁】【卫】【军】【鱼】【贯】【走】【进】【病】【房】，【最】【后】【走】【进】【两】【个】【手】【捧】【衣】【饰】【的】【侍】【女】。 【外】大赢家高手论坛297666.com【演】【员】【袁】【冰】【妍】【出】【写】【真】【了】，【袁】【冰】【妍】【是】【因】【为】【在】【电】【视】【剧】《【老】【九】【门】》【中】【出】【演】【了】【二】【月】【红】【的】【妻】【子】【丫】【头】【而】【被】【观】【众】【所】【熟】【知】【的】，【病】【恹】【恹】【的】【扮】【相】，【充】【分】【展】【示】【了】【其】【精】【湛】【的】【演】【技】，【是】【一】【位】【潜】【力】【非】【常】【巨】【大】【的】【演】【员】【呢】。【在】【这】【次】【曝】【光】【的】【写】【真】【中】，【只】【见】【袁】【冰】【妍】【身】【穿】【简】【单】T【恤】【配】【流】【苏】【裤】，【扎】【丸】【子】【头】【减】【龄】【又】【吸】【睛】！
“【这】【门】【到】【底】【在】【哪】？”【程】【鹏】【宇】【不】【由】【挠】【了】【挠】【自】【己】【发】【丝】【之】【下】【光】【滑】【的】【头】【皮】。 【他】【们】【已】【经】【找】【了】【半】【个】【小】【时】【了】，【但】【是】【这】【个】【房】【间】【除】【了】【他】【们】【进】【来】【的】【那】【扇】【门】【之】【外】【再】【也】【没】【有】【其】【他】【门】【了】。 【倒】【也】【有】【人】【提】【过】，【是】【不】【是】【进】【来】【那】【扇】【门】【就】【是】【他】【们】【需】【要】【破】【解】【的】【密】【室】【出】【口】。 【但】【是】【这】【个】【想】【法】【一】【出】【来】【就】【被】【江】【暮】【倾】【驳】【回】【了】，【因】【为】【他】【们】【进】【来】【的】【那】【扇】【门】【没】【有】【输】【入】【密】【码】
【雪】【山】【森】【林】【里】【的】【动】【物】【大】【概】【都】【是】【要】【冬】【眠】【的】。【这】【样】【的】【冬】【天】，【上】【哪】【里】【去】【找】【吃】【的】。 【现】【在】，【冬】【季】【要】【结】【束】【了】。【睡】【醒】【的】【野】【兽】【们】【都】【要】【出】【来】【填】【饱】【肚】【子】【了】。【凉】【溪】【在】【树】【心】【中】，【已】【经】【听】【到】【两】【拨】【从】【她】【左】【边】【而】【来】，【向】【右】【渐】【渐】【远】【去】【的】【雪】【被】【踩】【塌】【的】【声】【音】【了】。 【第】【三】【拨】，【凉】【溪】【本】【来】【以】【为】【也】【会】【跟】【之】【前】【一】【样】，【结】【果】【那】【脚】【步】【声】【离】【她】【越】【来】【越】【近】。 【凉】【溪】【揣】【好】【一】【张】【符】
【入】【夜】【之】【后】，【倚】【天】【宫】【前】【殿】【外】【的】【庭】【院】【里】，【没】【多】【久】【就】【已】【坐】【满】【了】【人】。 【倚】【天】【宫】：【秦】【弱】【箬】、【李】【柔】、【李】【倩】、【纳】【兰】【轻】【轻】、【韩】【夜】、【洪】【九】【陌】、【梅】【勇】、【李】【本】【木】、【冯】【婉】【婷】。 【惠】【合】【宫】：【苏】【真】、【白】【窈】【窕】、【艾】【宝】【剑】、【胡】【涂】、【胡】【闹】、【毒】【蜂】【老】【娘】、【红】【石】【榴】、【紫】【石】【榴】。 【芳】【华】【宫】：【燕】【潇】【潇】、【墙】【男】、【镜】【女】、【暗】【黑】【法】【师】、【迷】【宫】【制】【造】【者】、【陷】【阱】【大】【师】。 【淑】【仪】