Need help with Research? Have a general question about the library's resources or services? We're here to help!
There are a number of ways in which you can reach us:
Call a Reference librarian at (206) 592-3232 (on-campus extension 3232) during library hours.
Visit the Reference Desk, located on the Library Plaza Level (2nd Floor) during library hours.
Sponsored by AANAPISI (Asian Americans and Native American Pacific Islander Serving Institution) & Highline Library
*Those who commit to attending the discussion on May 30 can get a free copy of the book. Email firstname.lastname@example.org.*
The book is also on reserve in the Library, available for 7-day checkout. King County Library and Seattle Public Library also have copies available.
"America and Me (On Being a Refugee, an American--and a Human Being)." by Viet Thanh Nguyen from Financial Times, Feb 04, 2017.
Read more about The Refugees on the author's website.
Memory And Loss Haunt The Stories In 'The Refugees' -- Book review by Michael Schaub, National Public Radio (NPR)
From “Black-Eyed Women”
Ever since my father died a few years ago, my mother and I had lived together politely. We shared a passion for words, but I preferred writing in silence while she loved to talk. She constantly fed me gossip and stories. The only kind I enjoyed concerned my father when he was a man I did not know, young and happy. Then came stories of terror like the one about the reporter, the moral being that life, like the police, enjoys beating people now and again. Finally there was her favorite kind, the ghost story, of which she knew many, some even firsthand.
Aunt Six died of a heart attack at seventy-six, she told me once, twice, or perhaps three times, repetition being her habit. I never took her stories seriously. She lived in Vung Tau and we were in Nha Trang, she said. I was bringing dinner to the table when I saw Aunt Six sitting there in her nightgown. Her long gray hair, which she usually wore in a chignon, was loose and fell over her shoulders and in her face.
I almost dropped the dishes. When I asked her what she was doing here, she just smiled. She stood up, kissed me, and turned me towards the kitchen. When I turned around again to see her, she was gone. It was her ghost. Uncle confirmed it when I called. She had passed away that morning, in her own bed.
Excerpt copied from the publisher's website, https://groveatlantic.com/book/the-refugees/