Word: brides
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Dates: during 2000-2009
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...digested, but predictable and lacking in flavor. And even if this world is brand-new to you, its charms may not transport you all the way to page 413. Brick Lane tells the story of Nazneen, born in a Bangladeshi village and sent to London in 1985 as the bride of Chanu, a much older man chosen by her father. In Britain, she lives the soporific life of an Asian housewife, raising two daughters (after a son dies in infancy) and attending to her undemanding, if uninspiring, husband. Years - and far too many pages - pass uneventfully before Nazneen shakes...
...test run for much larger rigs, with up to 50 turbines apiece, that could produce enough electricity for a small town. The inspiration for the turbines came on a calm day in 1997 when Richard Ayre, managing director of THG, was working for the marine national park in St. Bride's Bay, Pembrokeshire. Trying to place buoys in the water, he realized the current was dragging the boat sideways. "The energy here is absolutely astronomical," thought Ayre, who started wondering how to generate power from it without damaging the bay's pristine environment. He came up with the answer...
...pennies by a few kind friends, and assume our positions. Grainne and Angela settle on the concrete blocks just outside the pit and I stand on the ground in front of them. I struggle to replicate the expressionless gaze I so admire in the Square’s bride and angel living statues. I stare straight ahead and try not to smile, not to make eye contact with the countless cruel passersby who ignore us or—even worse—approach us and then reconsider. One woman gives us the thumbs up; another comments to a friend that...
...roommates continue to battle involuntary muscle twitches, a woman begins snapping pictures of them from every angle. My time as a living statue had come to a close, so with my notebook in hand I approach the woman furiously photographing the bride and groom. Marie-France Studnicki-Gizbert had arrived from Canada two days before to visit her son at MIT, and is walking through the Square after a day-long tour of Harvard’s museums. She drops a dollar in our basket and tells me that we are hardly her first encounter with living statues...
...notebook, witness to three weeks of chanting and marching and late-night vigils among banners and sleeping bags. In my time as a reporter for The Crimson, I have eaten lentil soup at Café Algiers with the Square’s living statue “The Bride,” seen the Rocky Horror Picture show, documented the quiet closing of countless stores. I watched women get injected with Botox at a swank Newbury Street clinic for my thesis, and have seen the sun rise while walking back from 14 Plympton St. to Eliot House...