Reading: Ayize Jama-Everett — The Liminal People

Who are you, Ayiza Jama-Everett? And why are you so good? Eight pages in you write, “…he massacres Arabic as though it were a heathen in the noose of the Lord.” Is that not one of the most pristine sentences in the history of English? It’s like fucking Chaucer. The Liminal People—I’m halfway through—is fucking glorious. It’s Saladin Ahmed’s Throne of the Crescent Moon and China Miéville’s Kraken, dark, violent disturbance. Ignore the cover blurb. I didn’t, had my legs kicked out. The first time I was in Vienna I thought, this is a city where bodies pass through in the trunks of cars. Liminal People is that kind of book. Plus Islam. Plus Bad Things. If it was an album, it’d be Asian Dub Foundation’s Enemy Of The Enemy and Ensemble Al-Kindî. At the same time—Ooo! Ooo! There’s a sequel! I just ordered it!

Ayize Jama-Everett — The Liminal People
Ayize Jama-Everett — The Liminal People