Book of the month: “Bref été au Spitzberg”…

BREF ETE AU SPITZBERG – AURELIE CORBINEAU – GAIA – 2006 – 206p.

Here is a work (in French) that I really adore. I found it totally consuming!

We have here a daily account beginning in July 2002. Aurelie leaves behind her the comforts of Paris to experience life in the far north. Here, she discovers the most northern towns of our world. Longyearbyen and Barentsburg on the Svalbard Archipel.

Aurelie at the age of just 20 leaves with her travel bag to discover the side of Svalbard known as Spitzberg. She relates in her own words her experience amongst the Norwegian inhabitants of Longyearbyden; her time in the Russian town of Barentsburg and she highlights the differences between them. She tells too of her friends Elisa, Medhi and Lars with whom she shared fear whilst trekking upon encountering white bears, the uncontested masters of the Archipel.

Her account brought me to relive my own happy moments there, not to mention my moments of stress.

Her book is personnel, realistic and written with clarity. It is an authentic narrative of her voyage where she says what she thinks in no uncertain way. Superb!

Moreover, the originality of this book and its presentation is absolutely great. It consists too of illustrations and photos as well as various graphic symbols upon rose coloured paper giving off a luminous effect making reading even more enjoyable.

Would like to be too on the way to write essays on the ”Summers of Greenland” as well as on “Other destinations” . Hopefully they will absorb you.

I look forward to the next, Aurelie!

“…Nous déplions à présent la tente et passons quasiment une heure à essayer d’installer correctement le système anti-ours autour de notre abri de fortune, tellement vulnérable, face au géant de l’Arctique. L’ours est très futé et, si nous disposons le fil trop haut ou trop bas, il passera par-dessous ou par-dessus. Nous éloignons nos denrées alimentaires d’une centaine de mètres et sommes fin prêts pour aller nous coucher. Il est 7h30 et il faut que nous récupérions…Mais le sommeil ne vient pas. Je suis prise d’une crise de panique. Enfermée dans cette tente, mon seul sens, la vue, qui pourrait me permettre de repérer mon ennemi, est prisonnier de la toile. Je ne vois rien. Ma tête s’embrouille. Tous ces récits de gens qui se sont fait tuer ou ont eu la visite du géant tournent à plein règime dans ma tête…p.87”