An Email from Tunisia

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Recently, a young blogger from Tunisia emailed me on Goodreads requesting a copy of Detour from Normal for review. My first thought was: “What do I have to gain by spending $30 for costs and shipping to send a book to a total stranger in Tunisia?”

Then, I remembered a salesman that rang our doorbell not long ago. When I opened the door, he entertained and pitched me so convincingly that I bought his product, despite the fact that I didn’t need it. I wrote back and asked the kid to sell me on the idea. The next day, I received a reply.

“Well, Mr. Ken, when I first read the information on your book, I said to myself: ‘This is definitely a book I should read before dying.’” The young man described his love of mystery, madness and engineering and went on to say: “…and guess what sir, your book matches exactly what I love and I’d be extremely happy to have it.” He informed me that he would have bought it online, but that he was only seventeen and not allowed to do so, and that the local libraries only carry books in Arabic and French. His email ended with this statement: “I don’t have any means of getting the book but from you, sir.”

Part of my message in Detour from Normal is that the internet erases all differences of race, culture, language and belief and connects us as human spirits with the same basic dreams and desires. How cool is it that a seventeen year old from Tunisia won me over just like that salesman? On top of that, this young blogger has nearly 400 followers already and his blog is barely started. He must have something positive going on.

“Good for him!” I say. I’m supporting his passion and encouraging him to keep connecting with humanity, breaking down barriers as he goes. I hope there are many more young people in the world equally willing to fearlessly broaden their horizons by contacting someone separated by oceans, continents, language, culture and beliefs, and become part of their world, if only for a moment.

Mohamed, your book is on the way.

 

Image courtesy of Giuseppe Bongiovanni, Flikr