Jamaikali roman yazari Marlon James, 13 Ekim 2015 tarihinde Yedi Cinayetin Kisa Tarihcesi (A Brief History of Seven Killings) romaniyla Man Booker Odulu'nu kazandi.
"Gettoyu da gordum ben, babamla gittim. Herkes kendi Jamaikasinda yasar ve eger benimki orasi olacaksa canim ciksin. Gecen hafta gece saat on bir ile sabahin ucu arasinda bir zaman uc adam girmis babamin evine. Annem her zaman her yerde, alem eder arar ve onun icin gecen hafta gazetede silahli adamlarin Yari Yol Agaci hattini gectiklerini ve sehir merkezi disindaki hedeflere yonelmeye basladiklarini yazmasi hic de iyiye alamet degildi. Gece sokaga cikma yasagi hâlâ suruyordu ve sehir merkezinde yasayan durust, namuslu insanlar bile belli bir saatten sonra evlerinden cikmamaliydi, altidan sonra mi, sekizden mi ne, yoksa kolaylikla hedef olabilirlerdi. Gecen ay, bizden dort ev asagida oturan Bay Jacobs gece vardiyasindan evine donerken polis onu durdurup bir kamyonetin arkasina atmis ve Silah Mahkemesine goturup iceri kapatmis. Eger babam bir yargic bulup da ona yasalara saygili, durust vatandaslarin bile iceri tikilmasinin dupeduz cilginlik oldugunu anlatabilmeyi basaramasa hala iceride ola*cakti. Her ne kadar gabardin kumastan takim elbise giymis bile olsa Bay Jacobs'un ten renginin, polisin onun namuslu bir adam oldugunu varsaymasi icin fazla koyuca renkte oldugundan her ikisi de hic soz etmemisler. Sonra silahli adamlar bizim eve de girmisler. Annemlerin nikah yuzugunu, annemin Hollanda’dan aldigi butun biblolari, uc yuz dolar parayi, annemin butun kupelerini ve babamin kol saatini almis*lar, ustelik annem onlara kupelerin bes para etmeyecegini soyledigi halde. Babama birkac kere yumruk atmislar, annem iclerinden birine annesinin, oglunun gunah islemekte oldugunu bilip bilmedigini sor*dugunda da onu tokatlamislar. Anneme adamlardan herhangi birinin onun irzina gecip gecmedigini de sordum ama o bana calilarinin vahsi orman gibi gurlesmis oldugunu soyledi, ben de kendimi baska biriyle konustuguma inandirdim. Butun gece karakolu aradiklari halde polis ancak ertesi sabah gelebildi, sabah dokuz bucukta, ben oraya vardiktan cok sonra (beni saat altida aramislardi) ve kirmizi bir kalemle sari not defterine bir rapor yazdi. Curum faili yazabilmek icin sozcukleri kendi kendine uc kere tekrar etmesi gerekti. Isin icinde saldiri silahi da var miydi, diye sordugunda ben kahkahayi koyuverdim, annem de ozur dilememi istedi..."
"I’ve seen the ghetto, been there with my father. Everybody lives in their own Jamaica and damn if that was ever going to be mine. Last week, somewhere between eleven p.m. and three a.m., three men broke into my father’s house. My mother is always looking for signs and wonders and for her the fact that the newspaper last week said gunmen crossed the Half Way Tree line and have started picking off targets uptown was a very bad sign. The curfew was still on and even decent uptown people had to be indoors by a certain hour, six, eight, who knows or they would be up for grabs. Last month Mr. Jacobs from four houses down was coming home from night service and the police stopped him, threw him in the back of the van and sent him to the Gun Court lockup. He would still be there if Daddy didn’t find a judge to tell him that this was straight foolishness when we start to lock up even proper law-abiding people. Neither man mentioned that Mr. Jacobs was too dark-skinned for police to assume he was proper people, even in a gabardine suit. Then gunmen broke into our house. They took my parents’ wedding rings, all my mother’s figurines from Holland, three hundred dollars, all her costume earrings even though she told them they’re worth nothing, and his watch. They punched my father a couple times, and slapped my mother when she asked one of them if his mother knew that he was sinning. I asked her if any of the men had their way with her but said the rosebush was growing wild like a leggo beast, and I pretended I was talking to somebody else. The policeman didn’t come until the morning even though they called the station all night. Nine-thirty in the morning, long after I got there (they didn’t call me until six), and he took a statement on a yellow pad with a red pen. He had to say perpetrator to himself three times just to figure out how to spell it. When he said wuz h’any h’aggressive weapon brawt into play? I burst out laughing and my mother said I should excuse myself."



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