Genres > Eastern Africa

Madagascar

Books in this genre are set in or about Madagascar.

Lists

The Adventures of Park Ranger Brock Cliffhanger & His Jr. Par... by Mark Villareal

How to Lose a Lemur by Frann Preston-Gannon

Who Loves Little Lemur? by Ann Whitford Paul

Mister Lemur's Train of Thought by Mister Lemur

Children's Books of Lemurs (Madagascar)

15 books — 2 voters

Romancing in the Ruins

53 books — 1 voter

Journey to the River Sea by Eva Ibbotson

Jungles of Juvenile Fiction

19 books — 1 voter

The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver

Half of a Yellow Sun by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

Africa (fiction and nonfiction)

1,831 books — 1,710 voters

Breaking the Bias of English by Vivian Probst

The Door of No Return by Kwame Alexander

Books set in AFRICA - Clean Reads for adults and teens

52 books — 2 voters

Nory Ryan's Song by Patricia Reilly Giff

The Golden Goblet by Eloise Jarvis McGraw

Read Around the World FOR KIDS (No picture books)

172 books — 6 voters

Related Genres

Africa
África
Eastern Africa
Àfrica

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“ We would seem to be in the presence of a genuine historical anomaly: a political entity that presented itself to the outside world as a kingdom, organized around the charismatic figure of a brilliant child of pirates, but which within operated by a decentralized grassroots democracy without any developed system of social rank. How to explain this? Are there any real historical analogies? In fact, the most obvious parallel would be pirate ships themselves. Pirate captains often tried to develop a We would seem to be in the presence of a genuine historical anomaly: a political entity that presented itself to the outside world as a kingdom, organized around the charismatic figure of a brilliant child of pirates, but which within operated by a decentralized grassroots democracy without any developed system of social rank. How to explain this? Are there any real historical analogies? In fact, the most obvious parallel would be pirate ships themselves. Pirate captains often tried to develop a reputation among outsiders as terrifying, authoritarian desperadoes, but on board their own ships not only were they elected by majority vote and could be removed by the same means at any time, they were also empowered to give commands only during chase or combat, and otherwise had to take part in the assembly like anybody else. There were no ranks on pirate ships, other than the captain and the quartermaster (the latter presided over the assembly). What’s more, we know of explicit attempts to translate this form of organization onto the Malagasy mainland. Finally, as we’ll see, there is a long history of buccaneers or other questionable characters who found themselves a foothold in some Malagasy port town, trying to pass themselves off as kings and princes without doing anything to reorganize actual social relations on the ground in the surrounding communities. Discipline on board sixteenth-century European ships was arbitrary and brutal, so crews often had good reason to rise up; but the law on land was unforgiving. A mutinous crew knew they had signed their own death warrants. To go pirate was to embrace this fate. A mutinous crew would declare war “against the entire world,” and hoist the “Jolly Roger.” The pirate flag, which existed in many variations, is revealing in itself. It was normally taken to be an image of the devil, but often it contained not only a skull or skeleton, but also an hourglass, signifying not a threat (“you are going to die”) so much as a sheer statement of defiance (“we are going to die, it’s only a matter of time”)—which crews making out such a flag on the horizon would likely have found, if anything, even more terrifying. Flying the Jolly Roger was a crew’s way of announcing they accepted they were on their way to hell. ...more ”
― David Graeber, Pirate Enlightenment, or the Real Libertalia

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“ People filed off the battered old bus. We started to push. The engine soon spluttered to life and the bus stuttered slowly forward. We were all showered in red dust, but we were laughing and cheering, with the driver horn-honking in celebration. I had even more grit between my teeth, and sand up my nose. Then there was a terrific explosion. A pall of black stuff enveloped us, adding soot to our faces. The bus juddered to a halt – again. ”
― Jane Wilson-Howarth, Madagascar Misadventure

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