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Cargando... Wild Life: Dispatches from a Childhood of Baboons and Button-Downspor Keena Roberts
   Ninguno Actualmente no hay Conversaciones sobre este libro.  breic | Mar 28, 2021 |   It's a really funny memoir and a really interesting look at a truly unique childhood. More broadly, the book deals with themes of belonging and what constitutes "home," as Keena attempts to find her place between Botswana and Pennsylvania. I deeply enjoyed reading this book; Keena's story resonated with me in a number of ways, and I found the book well-written and a joy to read. (  ) forsanolim | Jun 12, 2020 | I found this interesting and exciting as she tells of her encounters with the wild animals in Africa. They were less mean than her classmates back in Philadelphia. The students were brutal with her when she returned. I liked how she divided herself into American Keena and Botswana Keena to navigate the school scene. Later she realizes that living in Baboon Camp was a privilege and gave her no idea what Botswana actually was like. I also liked that she went back to volunteer to help in Botswana with HIV/AIDS. As she talks about the study her parents were doing with the baboons and how things changed through the years they spent there, I was enthralled. She is braver than me. A good read! ( ) Sheila1957 | Apr 19, 2020 | ) babs605 | Dec 15, 2019 | This girl who enjoys dreaming and going on adventures isn't sure how to fit in with spoiled kids. She would rather be in Botswana where her primatologist parents taught her how to make bread and to carve bird whistles from palm nuts. This is a wonderful touching memoir by Keena Roberts. It shows how this girls America life influences her life in Botswana and vice versa. It is very funny at times but yet has its tender moments. It tells the story of a girl, coming of age, who is trying to find where she fits in. I recommend this book to anyone that enjoys nature and travel. This is a fun, educational book. I was given this book by NetGalley in exchange for my honest review. ( ) ksnapier | Nov 18, 2019 | sin reseñas | añadir una reseña
"Keena Roberts split her adolescence between the wilds of an island camp in Botswana and the even more treacherous halls of an elite Philadelphia private school. In Africa, she slept in a tent, cooked over a campfire, and lived each day alongside the baboon colony her parents were studying. She could wield a spear as easily as a pencil, and it wasn't unusual to be chased by lions or elephants on any given day. But for the months of the year when her family lived in the United States, this brave kid from the bush was cowed by the far more treacherous landscape of the preppy, private school social hierarchy. Most girls Keena's age didn't spend their days changing truck tires, baking their own bread, or running from elephants as they tried to do their schoolwork. They also didn't carve bird whistles from palm nuts or nearly knock themselves unconscious trying to make homemade palm wine. But Keena's parents were famous primatologists who shuttled her and her sister between Philadelphia and Botswana every six months. Dreamer, reader, and adventurer, she was always far more comfortable avoiding lions and hippopotamuses than she was dealing with spoiled middle-school field hockey players. In Keena's funny, tender memoir, Wild Life, Africa bleeds into America and vice versa, each culture amplifying the other. By turns heartbreaking and hilarious, Wild Life is ultimately the story of a daring but sensitive young girl desperately trying to figure out if there's any place where she truly fits in"-- No se han encontrado descripciones de biblioteca. |
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 Google Books — Cargando...GénerosSistema Decimal Melvil (DDC)974.8History and Geography North America Northeastern U.S. PennsylvaniaClasificación de la Biblioteca del CongresoValoraciónPromedio: (4.27)
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3
> As the sun sank lower over the melapo, gigantic beetles cruised through the trees buzzing loudly, flocks of birds flew home to roost calling out to each other between the islands, and impala crept closer into camp, knowing that the smell of humans helped keep the lions away—most of the time.
> Botswana Keena wasn’t safe in America, and American Keena was disliked and lonely, so what was I supposed to do now? Go to college and remake myself again? … I still walk around with my head down. I’m not being unfriendly; I’m just looking for snakes. When a big truck comes around the corner, I still think it’s an elephant and my first reaction is to look for the nearest dumpster to hide behind. I don’t like being predictable; predictability in a daily schedule is how lions know where you’re likely to be when it’s dark outside and makes it easier for them to hunt you.
> I was more than halfway to the kill site when a young male lion exploded out of the bush and charged me. I knew it was a male because he had the start of a mane, and also because every single detail of that lion’s appearance seared itself into my brain in one moment of pure terror.
> I dream about lions almost every night: chasing me across the lacrosse field, stalking me during a final exam in graduate school, or lurking in my bedroom closet, twitching their tawny ears and growling so low and deep it makes my bones vibrate (