![]() ![]() ![]() I was sure too, he’d have clocked my rolling it in the hankies, lifting it, perhaps also mind-reading my intention to carry it up to the usual place. Probably had gotten the detail of my picking it up, of walking back, walking forth, all that dithering about beforehand. I knew though, that he was well aware of what it was. ![]() All through our exchange I made no reference to this head, nor did I look at it. Here I was, standing beside this milkman, my thoughts easily to become terrified, not helped either by the dead cat’s head I was holding in my hands. Here, we see an eighteen-year-old girl caught up in the building pressure of an ethno-nationalist conflict-a war- threatening to erupt at any moment. But this scene, in which the unnamed heroine stumbles across a cat’s head in the rubble of a bombed-out building, unites the political with the deeply personal. ![]() This week, Anna Caritj, author of “ White Angora” from our Summer 2019 issue, examines a passage from Milkman by Anna Burns.Īnna Burns’s Milkman is outwardly a novel about the Troubles in Northern Ireland. For our Marginalia web feature, we ask writers to introduce us to their favorite works of literature by way of a short piece of prose. ![]()
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