Thinking Like an Iceberg. Olivier Remaud
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Название: Thinking Like an Iceberg

Автор: Olivier Remaud

Издательство: John Wiley & Sons Limited

Жанр: Афоризмы и цитаты

Серия:

isbn: 9781509551484

isbn:

СКАЧАТЬ 155

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      Olivier Remaud

      Translated by Stephen Muecke

      polity

      Originally published in French as Penser comme un iceberg © Actes Sud, 2020

      This English edition © Polity Press, 2022

      Excerpt from Arctic Dreams by Barry Lopez reprinted by permission of SLL/Sterling Lord Literistic, Inc. Copyright 1986 by Barry Lopez.

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      All rights reserved. Except for the quotation of short passages for the purpose of criticism and review, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher.

      ISBN-13: 978-1-5095-5148-4

      A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

      Library of Congress Control Number: 2021949632

      The publisher has used its best endeavours to ensure that the URLs for external websites referred to in this book are correct and active at the time of going to press. However, the publisher has no responsibility for the websites and can make no guarantee that a site will remain live or that the content is or will remain appropriate.

      Every effort has been made to trace all copyright holders, but if any have been overlooked the publisher will be pleased to include any necessary credits in any subsequent reprint or edition.

      For further information on Polity, visit our website:

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      The frozen ocean itself still turns in its winter sleep like a dragon.

      — Barry Lopez, Arctic Dreams

      I would first like to thank Stéphane Durand at my French publisher, Actes Sud, for welcoming this book into his ‘Mondes sauvages’ series and for following every step of the process with attention and friendship.

      I also thank Stephen Muecke for his translation into English and Elise Heslinga at Polity.

      For their help in various ways (bibliography, translation, proofreading, illustrations, conversations), my gratitude goes to Glenn Albrecht, Þorvarður Árnason, Caroline Audibert, Petra Bachmaier, Chris Bowler, Aïté Bresson, Garry Clarke, Stephen Collins, Julie Cruikshank, Philippe Descola, Élisabeth Dutartre-Michaut, Katti Frederiksen, Sean Gallero, Samir Gandesha, Shari Fox Gearheard, Hrafnhildur Hannesdóttir, Lene Kielsen Holm, Cymene Howe, Nona Hurkmans, Guðrún Kristinsdóttir-Urfalino, José Manuel Lamarque, David Long, Robert Macfarlane, Andri Snær Magnason, Rémy Marion, Christian de Marliave, Markus Messling, Éric Rignot, Camille Seaman, Charles Stépanoff, Agnès Terrier, Torfi Tulinius, Philippe Urfalino, Daniel Weidner and Stefan Willer.

      Icebergs have been considered secondary characters for a long time now. They made the headlines when ships sank after hitting them. Then they disappeared into the fog and no one paid them any more attention.

      In the pages that follow, they take centre stage. Their very substance breathes. They pitch and roll over themselves like whales. They house tiny life forms and take part in human affairs. Today, they are melting along with the glaciers and the sea ice.

      Icebergs are central to both the little stories and the big issues.

      This book invites you to discover worlds rich in secret affinities and inevitable paradoxes.

      There are so many ways to see wildlife with new eyes.

       The morning was dark. Fog was suspended over our heads. Pancakes of ice floated near the ice edge. The sea seemed sluggish.

       Then a discreet sun lit up the horizon.

       Three points appeared in the distance. A thin silhouette emerged from the fog. I could not immediately identify the shape, but it was becoming more and more curved. No whale has these spurs on its back; my nomadic brothers are larger.

       The clouds began to glow.

       A ship was approaching us.

       It was making slow progress. Like a lost penguin, it took small steps sideways. When it anchored in our vicinity, I saw them stirring. They were huddled together on the forecastle, jumping up and down in a strange dance. They were pointing at me. Their faces were long, their beards shaggy, and they smelt strong. They looked like ghosts. I could only make out the males. Some smiled, others opened their mouths but no words came out. With their hands on the main mast, some were kneeling and bowing their heads. They crossed themselves as they stood up.

       A man emerged from a cabin at the back of the ship. He climbed the stairs leading to the deck. A group followed him. Drumbeats echoed in the silence of the ocean. When the music stopped, he was СКАЧАТЬ