It's What I Do: A Photographer's Life of Love and War by Lynsey Addario (English

Description: It's What I Do by Lynsey Addario "A brutally real and unrelentingly raw memoir."--Kirkus (starred review)"An unflinching memoir . . . that offers insight into international events and the challenges faced by the journalists who capture them." -The Washington PostWar photographer Lynsey Addarios memoiris the story of how the relentless pursuit of truth, in virtually every major theater of war in the twenty-first century, has shaped her life. What she does, with clarity, beauty, and candor, is to document, often in their most extreme moments, the complex lives of others. Its her work, but its much more than that- its her singular calling.Lynsey Addario was just finding her way as a young photographer when September 11 changed the world. One of the few photojournalists with experience in Afghanistan, she gets the call to return and cover the American invasion. She decides to set out across the world, face the chaos of crisis, and make a name for herself.Addario finds a way to travel with a purpose. She photographs the Afghan people before and after the Taliban reign, the civilian casualties and misunderstood insurgents of the Iraq War, as well as the burned villages and countless dead in Darfur. She exposes a culture of violence against women in the Congo and tells the riveting story of her headline-making kidnapping by pro-Qaddafi forces in the Libyan civil war.As a woman photojournalist determined to be taken as seriously as her male peers, Addario fights her way into a boys club of a profession. Rather than choose between her personal life and her career, Addario learns to strike a necessary balance. In the man who will become her husband, she finds at last a real love to complement her work, not take away from it, and as a new mother, she gains an all the more intensely personal understanding of the fragility of life.Watching uprisings unfold and people fight to the death for their freedom, Addario understands she is documenting not only news but also the fate of societies.Its What I Dois more than just a snapshot of life on the front lines; it is witness to the human cost of war. FORMAT Paperback LANGUAGE English CONDITION Brand New Author Biography Lynsey Addario is an American photojournalist whose work appears regularly in The New York Times, National Geographic, and Time magazine. She has covered conflicts in Afghanistan, Iraq, Lebanon, Darfur, and the Congo, and has received numerous awards, including the MacArthur Genius Grant.In 2009, she was awarded the Pulitzer Prize as part of the New York Times team for International Reporting. Review "Beautifully written and vividly illustrated with her images—which are stunningly cinematic, often strange, always evocative—the book helps us understand not only what would lead a young woman to pursue such a dangerous and difficult profession, but why she is so good at it. Lens to her eye, Addario is an artist of empathy, a witness not to grand ideas about human sacrifice and suffering, but to human beings, simply being." —Boston Globe "The opening scene of Lynsey Addarios memoir sucker punches you like a cold hard fist. She illuminates the daily frustrations of working within the confines of what the host culture expects from a member of her sex and her constant fight for respect from her male journalist peers and American soldiers. Always she leads with her chin, whether shes on the ground in hostile territory or discussing politics." —Entertainment Weekly "[A] richly illustrated memoir. [Addario] conveys well her unstated mission to stir the emotions of people like herself, born into relative security and prosperity, nudging them out of their comfort zones with visual evidence of horrors they might do something about. It is a diary of an empathetic young woman who makes understanding the wider world around her a professional calling." —Los Angeles Times"Addarios narrative about growing up as one of four daughters born to hairdressers in Los Angeles and working her way up to being one of the worlds most accomplished photojournalists, male or female, is riveting. [She] thoughtfully shows how exhilarating and demanding it is to cover the most difficult assignments in the world. Addario is a shining example of someone who has been able to "have it all," but she has worked hard and absolutely suffered to get where she is. My hope is that she continues to live the life less traveled with her family, as I will be waiting for her next book with great anticipation." —San Francisco Chronicle "[An] unflinching memoir. [Addarios] book, woven through with images from her travels, offers insight into international events and the challenges faced by the journalists who capture them." —Washington Post "[Addarios] ability to capture . . . vulnerability in her subjects, often in extreme circumstances, has propelled Addario to the top of her competitive field." —Associated Press "A rare gift: an intimate look into the personal and professional life of a war correspondent . . . a powerful read . . . This memoir packs a punch because of Addarios personal risks. But some of the power in this book comes from the humanity she holds on to despite the horrors she witnesses. [Its What I Do] should be read, processed and mulled over in its entirety. . . . In [Addarios] words and photos, readers will see that war isnt simply a matter of black and white, of whos right and whos wrong. There are as many shades of gray as there are sides to every story." —Dallas Morning News"A remarkable journalistic achievement from a Pulitzer Prize and MacArthur Fellowship winner that crystalizes the last 10 years of global war and strife while candidly portraying the intimate life of a female photojournalist. Told with unflinching candor, the award-winning photographer brings an incredible sense of humanity to all the battlefields of her life. Especially affecting is the way in which Addario conveys the role of gender and how being a woman has impacted every aspect of her personal and professional lives. Whether dealing with ultrareligious zealots or overly demanding editors, being a woman with a camera has never been an easy task. A brutally real and unrelentingly raw memoir that is as inspiring as it is horrific." —Kirkus (starred review)"A highly readable and thoroughly engaging memoir. . . . Addarios memoir brilliantly succeeds not only as a personal and professional narrative but also as an illuminating homage to photojournalisms role in documenting suffering and injustice, and its potential to influence public opinion and official policy." —Publishers Weekly"Addario has written a page-turner of a memoir describing her war coverage and why and how she fell into—and stayed in—such a dangerous job. This extraordinary profession—though exhilarating and frightening, it feels more like a commitment, a responsibility, a calling—is what she does, and the many photographs scattered throughout this riveting book prove that she does it magnificently." —Booklist"Its What I Do is as brilliant as Addarios pictures—and shes the greatest photographer of our war-torn time. Shes been kidnapped, nearly killed, while capturing truth and beauty in the worlds worst places. Shes a miracle. So is this book." —Tim Weiner, author of Legacy of Ashes and Enemies"Lynsey Addarios book is like her life: big, beautiful, and utterly singular. With the whole world as her backdrop, Addario embarks on an extraordinary adventure whose overriding effect is to remind of us what unites us all." —Dexter Filkins, author of The Forever War"A gifted chronicler of her life and times, Lynsey Addario stands at the forefront of her generation of photojournalists, young men and women who have come of age during the brutal years of endless war since 9/11. A uniquely driven and courageous woman, Addario is also possessed of great quantities of humor and humanity. Its What I Do is the riveting, unforgettable account of an extraordinary life lived at the very edge." —Jon Lee Anderson, staff writer for The New Yorker and author of The Fall of Baghdad"A life as a war photographer has few parallels in terms of risk and reward, fear and courage, pain and promise. Lynsey Addario has seen, experienced, and photographed things that most of us cannot imagine. The brain and heart behind her extraordinary photographic eye pulls us inexorably closer to the center of each story she pursues, no matter what the cost or danger." —John Prendergast, founding director of the Enough Project Review Quote Boston Globe: Excerpt from Book Prelude AJDABIYA, LIBYA, MARCH 2011 In the perfect light of a crystal-clear morning, I stood outside a putty-colored cement hospital near Ajdabiya, a small city on Libyas northern coast, more than five hundred miles east of Tripoli. Several other journalists and I were looking at a car that had been hit during a morning air strike. Its back window had been blown out, and human remains were splattered all over the backseat. There was part of a brain on the passenger seat; shards of skull were embedded in the rear parcel shelf. Hospital employees in white medical uniforms carefully picked up the pieces and placed them in a bag. I picked up my camera to shoot what I had shot so many times before, then put it back down, stepping aside to let the other photographers have their turn. I couldnt do it that day. It was March 2011, the beginning of the Arab Spring. After Tunisia and Egypt erupted into unexpectedly euphoric and triumphant revolutions against their longtime dictators--millions of ordinary people shouting and dancing in the streets in celebration of their newfound freedom--Libyans revolted against their own homegrown tyrant, Muammar el-Qaddafi. He had been in power for more than forty years, funding terrorist groups across the world while he tortured, killed, and disappeared his fellow Libyans. Qaddafi was a maniac. I hadnt covered Tunisia and Egypt, because I was on assignment in Afghanistan, and it had pained me to miss such important moments in history. I wasnt going to miss Libya. This revolution, however, had quickly become a war. Qaddafis famously thuggish foot soldiers invaded rebel cities, and his air force pounded fighters in skeletal trucks. We journalists had come without flak jackets. We hadnt expected to need our helmets. My husband, Paul, called. We tried to talk once a day while I was away, but my Libyan cell phone rarely had a signal, and it had been a few days since wed spoken. "Hi, my love. How are you doing?" He was calling from New Delhi. "Im tired," I said. "I spoke with David Furst"--my editor at the New York Times --"and asked if I could start rotating out in about a week. Ill head back to the hotel in Benghazi this afternoon and try to stick around there until I pull out. Im ready to come home." I tried to steady my voice. "Im exhausted. I have a bad feeling that something is going to happen." I didnt tell him that the last few mornings I had woken up reluctant to get out of bed, lingered too long over my instant coffee as my colleagues and I prepared our cameras and loaded our bags into our cars. While covering war, there were days when I had boundless courage and there were days, like these in Libya, when I was terrified from the moment I woke up. Two days earlier I had given a hard drive of images to another photographer to give to my photo agency in case I didnt survive. If nothing else, at least my work could be salvaged. "You should go back to Benghazi," Paul said. "You always listen to your instincts." When I arrived in Benghazi two weeks earlier, it was a newly liberated city, a familiar scene to me, like Kirkuk after Saddam or Kandahar after the Taliban. Buildings had been torched, prisons emptied, a parallel government installed. The mood was happy. One day I visited some men who had gathered in town for a military training exercise. It resembled a Monty Python skit: Libyans stood at attention in strict configurations or practiced walking like soldiers or gaped at a pile of weapons in bewilderment. The rebels were just ordinary men--doctors, engineers, electricians--who had thrown on whatever green clothes or leather jackets or Converse sneakers they had in their closet and jumped in the backs of trucks loaded with Katyusha rocket launchers and rocket-propelled grenades. Some men lugged rusty Kalashnikovs; others gripped hunting knives. Some had no weapons at all. When they took off down the coastal road toward Tripoli, the capital city, still ruled by Qaddafi, journalists jumped into their boxy four-door sedans and followed them to what would become the front line. We traveled alongside them, watched them load ammunition, and waited. Then one morning, one of the first days on that lonely strip of highway, a helicopter gunship suddenly swooped down low over our heads and unleashed a barrage of bullets, spitting at us indiscriminately. The gaggle of fighters shot up the air with Kalashnikovs. One boy threw a rock; another, his eyes wild with terror, ran for a sand berm. I ducked beside the front of a tin-can car and took a picture of him and knew this would be a different kind of war. The front line moved along a barren road surrounded by sand that stretched flat to the blue horizon. Unlike in the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, there were no bunkers to jump into, no buildings to hide behind, no armored Humvees in which to crouch down on the floor. In Libya, when we heard the hum of a warplane, we went through the motions: We stopped, looked up, and cowered in anticipation of rounds of ammunition or bombs and tried to guess where they would land. Some people lay on their backs; some people covered their heads; some people prayed; and some people ran, just to run, even if it was to nowhere. We were always exposed to the massive Mediterranean sky. I had been a conflict photographer for more than ten years and had covered war in Afghanistan, Iraq, Sudan, the Democratic Republic of the Congo, and Lebanon. I had never seen anything as scary as Libya. The photographer Robert Capa once said, "If your pictures arent good enough, youre not close enough." In Libya, if you werent close enough, there was nothing to photograph. And once you got close enough, you were in the line of fire. That week I watched some of the best photojournalists in the business, veterans of Chechnya and Afghanistan and Bosnia, leave almost immediately after those first bombs fell. "Its not worth it," they said. There were several moments when I, too, thought to myself, This is insane. What am I doing? But there were other days when I felt that familiar exhilaration, when I thought, I am actually watching an uprising unfold. I am watching these people fighting to the death for their freedom. I am documenting the fate of a society that has been oppressed for decades. Until you get injured or shot or kidnapped, you believe you are invincible. And it had been a few years since anything had happened to me. The other journalists were leaving the scene at the hospital. I knew it was time to return to the front line. The sounds of war echoed in the distance--shelling, antiaircraft fire, ambulance sirens. I didnt want Paul to hear the noise. "Baby, I have to go. Ill see you soon, my love. Love you." Long ago I learned that it is cruel to make loved ones worry about you. I tell them only what they need to know: where I am, where I am going, and when I am coming home. * * * I WAS THERE on assignment for the New York Times with three other award-winning journalists: Tyler Hicks, a photographer and a friend whom, oddly enough, I had grown up with in Connecticut; Anthony Shadid, arguably the best reporter working in the Middle East; and Stephen Farrell, a British-Irish journalist who had worked in war zones for years. Between us, we had about fifty years of experience working in awful places. We had entered the country illegally from Egypt, along with hordes of other journalists. We left the suburban hospital together and headed toward the center of Ajdabiya to look for the front line. Anthony and Steve were in one car, and Tyler and I were in another with our driver, Mohammed. It had been difficult to find a good driver in Libya. Mohammed, a soft-spoken university student with a fresh face and a gap between his front teeth, drove us around long after most other drivers had quit. To him, the job was a contribution to the revolution. A driver like Mohammed, who was tapped into a network of other drivers and rebels, helped us decide where we could go and how long we could stay. His directions often determined our fate. His contribution was invaluable. As we edged down an empty road in the center of town, artillery shells pierced the pavement nearby, sending shards of shrapnel in every direction. Anthony and Steves driver suddenly stopped his car and began off-loading their belongings onto the pavement. He was quitting. His brother had been shot at the front line. Without pausing, Mohammed pulled up our car and put their gear in our trunk, and Anthony and Steve piled into our car. I felt uneasy. In war zones journalists often travel in convoys of two vehicles, in case one vehicle fails. Two vehicles also ensure that if one is hit or attacked, fewer people will suffer the consequences. Four journalists in one car also meant too many chefs in the kitchen: We each had a different idea of what we wanted to do. As we drove on, Anthony, Tyler, Steve, and I debated the level of danger. It is often this way in war zones for journalists and photographers: an endless negotiation of who needs what, who wants to stay, who wants to go. When do we have enough reporting and photographs to depict the story accurately? We want to see more fighting, to get the freshest, latest news, to keep reporting until that unknowable last second before injury, capture, death. We are greedy by nature: We always want more than what we have. The consensus in the car at that point was to keep working. Ajdabiya was a prosperous, low-slung North African city of peach, yellow, and tan cement buildings with thick-walled balconies and vibrant storefront signs in painted Arabic. The few civilians on the streets were fleein Details ISBN0143128418 Author Lynsey Addario Short Title ITS WHAT I DO Pages 368 Language English ISBN-10 0143128418 ISBN-13 9780143128410 Media Book Format Paperback Subtitle A Photographers Life of Love and War Country of Publication United States US Release Date 2016-11-08 UK Release Date 2016-11-08 Illustrations 4 16-PAGE COLOR PHOTO INSERTS (ON INSERT STOCK) Place of Publication New York Illustrator Gladys Jose Birth 1927 Affiliation Clark University Position journalist Qualifications PsyD Year 2016 Publisher Penguin Putnam Inc Publication Date 2016-11-08 DEWEY B Audience General NZ Release Date 2021-05-13 AU Release Date 2021-05-13 Imprint The Penguin Press We've got this At The Nile, if you're looking for it, we've got it. With fast shipping, low prices, friendly service and well over a million items - you're bound to find what you want, at a price you'll love! TheNile_Item_ID:100844838;

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