It is sometimes hard to escape the belief that history exists against the artist. — Hisham Matar Copy Share Image
I used to be a keen rider. Sometimes I could sense what a horse liked or preferred to do. — Hisham Matar Copy Share Image
I used to believe that it was not possible to lose someone I loved without sensing it somehow, without feeling something shift.… — Hisham Matar Copy Share Image
I sometimes wonder if I would have become a writer if what happened to my father hadn't happened. — Hisham Matar Copy Share Image
There's always a problem when you write, something you're trying to resolve, and sometimes a view can be inspiring. — Hisham Matar Copy Share Image
There and then, sitting beside her and within the strength of my adoration, I felt invincible. — Hisham Matar Copy Share Image
To be okay with not knowing is a sign of a mature person and a mature society. — Hisham Matar Copy Share Image
“History remembers Mussolini as the buffoonish Fascist, the ineffective silly man of Italy who led a lame military campaign in the Second World War,… — Hisham Matar Copy Share Image
Language is not just a code; you are writing into its history, into its tides. — Hisham Matar Copy Share Image
My parents were fairly laid-back, but there were certain things about which they were very strict. My brother and I were told never to… — Hisham Matar Copy Share Image
I am terribly interested in the paragraph: the paragraph as an object, the construction, and the possibilities of what a paragraph can do. — Hisham Matar Copy Share Image
My parents left Libya in 1979, escaping political repression, and settled in Cairo. I was nine. — Hisham Matar Copy Share Image
Libyans are deeply unsettled by Gaddafi and his regime's careless contempt for human life. The dictatorship is willing to employ any methods necessary to… — Hisham Matar Copy Share Image
My best hope is that Libya turns into a peaceful, sensible country that has all the things my father and lots of others have… — Hisham Matar Copy Share Image
Season of Migration to the North, by Tayeb Salih, is an eloquent and restrained portrait of one man's exile. It is a rare narrative… — Hisham Matar Copy Share Image
