An Evil Cradling: The Five-Year Ordeal of a Hostage
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This brilliantly written account by a former Middle East hostage was a #1 bestseller in Britain and served as the inspiration for the acclaimed Broadway hit Someone Who'll Watch Over Me. "Conveys the surrealism of the ordeal, the loss of control and melting of identity that come with realizing you are a pawn in someone else's game."--Time.
God and sex were not about religion or morality. They were ciphers for their own powerlessness: an impotence that they experienced unconsciously at a deeply personal level and also in the world of politics. Tom also told us how at the beginning of their captivity the French had been treated with courtesy. They were allowed to cook their own food occasionally and to make coffee. However, as the duration of their confinement increased many of these prerogatives were taken from them. The French,
own sea-changes. John and I discovered not only a love for each other which transcended our divisions and backgrounds. We also discovered a renewed love for the world and its possibilities which, whilst nascent in us as children, had become buried by the accretions of the conscious worlds we had been brought up in. In a way the book is a ‘love story’ in the fullest sense, a story which speaks beyond the confines of what happened to us physically and addresses many of our unrealised and
The conversation was one that I could imagine having with a friend whom I had not seen for a long time. I asked ‘Who is Ben Gunn anyway?‘John looked at me puzzled. ‘Ben Gunn, you know, Treasure Island,’ and I tried to remember the book, wondering what this man was talking about. John reminded me of the shipwrecked sailor who had lived on the island for so long and had grown a huge beard with hair hanging in unkempt folds and drapes about his shoulders. I remembered the character, but couldn’t
a car bomb into a crowd of Israeli soldiers, killing themselves and everyone around them. One of them hoped to crash an aeroplane into the heart of an Israeli town. Somehow this was not the thinking of a cold and calculating terrorist mind. They believed fervently that all the warriors of Islam went to an Islamic heaven. ‘This life no good,’ they would frequently reiterate but their boasting and their dreaming sometimes went beyond storytelling. Many times they would come into our cell
‘lamps’. These candles reinforced our loneliness. Our thoughts turned more and more to the Korean now. He sat silent and alone, and often refused the appalling food. Few of the guards even spoke to him. The removal of the Americans and the reduction in the hours of light prolonged the days. The light we provided for ourselves from the handmade candles did not diminish the long drag of each day. But the news about Terry Waite and our belief that the Americans had gone home was enough to push