True art selects and paraphrases,
but seldom gives a verbatim translation.
Thomas Bailey Aldrich
My original intent for this month was to give you some books to consider that had been translated from their original language. There are so many wonderful authors that we would not have had the opportunity to read if it had not been for modern translation. However, for me, reading translated texts goes slower than reading those originally written in English. The flow is different and the thought processes are too. My time to read, ponder, and create a good column for this month is shorter than needed to do this up right. So, instead, I'm just going with stories about non-English countries, giving this column an international flare. How's that for compromise?
To quote one of my favorite personalities, our own tortured, beloved, Glenn Beck, “I am riddled with ADD!” I did start several books (like, 6) that I desperately wanted to read this month. All had great promise and some are still likely show up in other columns with other themes, just not this month's. Nevertheless, I will include them at the end as additional recommendations and let you decide when to read them on your own.
Les Livres ( “The Books,” for you non-French speakers)
The Alchemist, Paulo Coelho
Translated from Portuguese; takes place in Spain & North Africa
It is the possibility of having a dream come true that makes life interesting...1
I got very frustrated on a recent hike outside of Nashville. I set out alone on a 5 mile nature hike and had about 1.5 hours to get it completed. No problem, right?
Wrong. I assumed the trail would be well marked, so I didn't need my guide book (good thing, because it was at home). I walked along and took pictures fairly leisurely for a while, until I noticed my time was running along faster than were my feet. A few unexpected “course corrections,” due to poor trail markings and additional trails that seemed to come out of no where, weren't helping either. Thus, I picked up the pace.
Shortly after, I was praying hard I was even on the right trail, I remembered that on a previous hike at another state park, white dots had been painted on the trees to act as trail markers. The moment I had that thought, my head snapped up, and sure enough- there were white dots on trees about every 25 feet! The signs had been there all along, I had just failed to notice them. What an idiot!
As my time continued to dwindle, however, and there was no indication how much farther I had to walk (really!), I started to panic a bit. I was walking much, much faster, but I dropped my head to watch the ground and stopped looking for those white dots.
In turn, I veered off course and missed the trail head I needed by a fourth of a mile. I finally made it out of the woods, though I was about 30 minutes late for my afternoon appointment and I had to hike that 1/4 mile extra back to my car. Irritated with myself, I realized I had missed, found, and then lost the correct path all because I forgot to look for the obvious signs to start with, then stopped looking for them when I get scared. Such is often our journey on Earth and our relationship with our Heavenly Father.
The hiking story is all my own, but as I was living it- remember, I had 5 miles to think about this stuff- the parallels between my experience and the plot of The Alchemist became very clear. The allegory within Paulo Coelho's best selling book is one of hope for us to come out of this mortality just as God intended, safe and sound, back in His arms. The only caveat: we have to follow the signs he sets out for us to follow; we have to look up...eventually. Our journey can go quickly from a casual side trip to one fraught with many more difficulties than need be. In other words, we may make it back to the trail head, but not without undue muscle strains, sweat stains, and throbbing veins!
Not all of the signs God gives us are as obvious as a trail marker that is printed in bold, clear words stating, “This Way.” Some are faint, like a faded white dot on the side of a tree (several feet above our eye level). Others require us to take a step into the unknown, like when a once clearly defined pathway is obliterated by a fallen tree or rocky ground and we have to search a little on our own before we find the right course again. And sometimes, we may meander, waste time taking pictures instead of moving toward the end of our trek, which is, after all, the reason we started in the first place.
Coelho's hero, Santiago, begins his odyssey as a simple, contented sheep herder who desires to see the world beyond his own village. He has made some prudent choices and is fairly happy with his life. He can read well, has supportive parents, has a fine herd and a keen gratitude for his blessings; but most of all, he is proud that he made his own decisions about his life's path.
On a whim, Santiago decides to have an old gypsy woman in Tarifa interpret his dreams. She speaks in a manner about “treasure” that raises both curiosity and suspicion in the youth. When the woman tells him he need not pay her immediately for her services, but when he finds what he seeks, he must return and pay her 1/10 of it; to this, he readily agrees. I don't think the boy really believed her interpretation was possibly true, but the seed of finding riches had been planted in his head. His life's course was altered from the moment he entered her house.
The exchange with the gypsy begins what is to be a two year journey for Santiago. He is given various signs or “omens” along the way to aid him in his search and many opportunities to stop it altogether. Different things happen to either discourage his progression or bolster his resolve to continue. Often, when he considers terminating the hunt for the end prize, for settling, as it were, he is reminded- he chose to begin this trip and must see it through. In the end, the youth gets all and more than he had ever wanted when he was just a contented sheep herder in Spain. However, what he gets turns out to be very different from what he ever expected! My husband thought this was a “cute” story. My response echoed my 6 year old's best “girly-girl” voice, with a dismissive, “What ever !”
Like so many of our own lives, what we get out of them depends greatly upon what we put into them. Santiago ages only two years in the time we know him, but he matures immensely. He learns there are wonderful things in store for us here, and God loves us and wants us to have them all. Once we learn to listen to Him, to see our potential as he sees it, to “be still and know,” He will give us everything we need...and even a lot of what we want. Coelho so simply, but so eloquently tells a story that can apply, not only to our lives as a whole, but to numerous individual circumstances within them. I loved this book. Sweet and simple.
Note: Though Mr. Coelho is Catholic, there are some interesting details in this tale that will perk up the ears of the LDS reader.
The Samurai's Garden, Gail Tsukiyama
Takes place in Japan and China, 1937
Just before leaving [for Tarumi], I bought this book of Japanese parchment paper to record any other prizes I might be lucky enough to capture. It opens before me now, thin sheets of sand-colored paper, empty and quiet as the beach below the village.”2
From an author of Chinese and Japanese descent comes a beautifully written story about the struggles of both countries and the people caught in the middle during the onset of World War II. A girlfriend from Texas suggested this one for our sanctioned, though “Unofficial-Not-in-Any-Way-Affiliated-With-the-Church” book club several years ago. I was just really getting back into reading for enjoyment, and I think this book created a spark in me that hasn't gone out yet.
The Samurai's Garden introduces us to 1930s Imperial Japan, when Emperor Hirohito was seeking to expand his county's dominance throughout Asia. It tells of Stephen, a twenty year old Chinese man who is sent to his family's beachside vacation home in Tarumi, Japan to recuperate after a bout with tuberculosis. The main story stays with Stephen, but as his father is a successful business man who spends much of his time in Japan, the political unrest of the period and the fear of what that may mean for Stephen's Chinese family is an ever present subplot.
Because of his family's wealth, they are able to employ Matsu, a full-time, year round servant in Japan who takes care of Stephen during his recovery. At first, Stephen is very uncomfortable with Matsu's presence. He is young and doesn't quite know what to make of this quiet, reclusive old man. But as his time in Japan extends, Stephen begins to see a caring, loyal friend who looks beyond politics to embrace Stephen as a son. The familial bond that develops between them is in many ways more natural than that he has with his own parents. During his respite in Japan, Stephen experiences “first love” and comes to know true love in its purest form. It is a journey of discovery you will enjoy taking with him.
Tsukiyama is a gentle and artful storyteller who masterfully captures both the time period of which she writes, as well as the culture. There is a restfulness to her writing that is simply mesmerizing. I don't think The Samurai's Garden is a book you will want to rush through, if you even could. So, put on some wooden flute music, light some candles, and relax with this one!
The Kite Runner, Kahled Hosseini
Set largely in Afghanistan, the U.S., and Pakistan
I thought about something [my old friend] said just before he hung up, almost as an afterthought. “ There is a way to be good again.” I looked up at those twin kites and thought about Hassan...Baba. Ali, Kabul. I thought of the life I had lived until the winter of 1975 came along and changed everything. And made me what I am today.3
Differing greatly from The Samurai's Garden, The Kite Runner is not an easy book to process. It has been widely read since its release in 2003, and no doubt some of you have already read it. To those who have not, prepare yourself for a more graphic portrayal of violence than the relatively flat, documentary-style descriptions of Reading Lolita in Tehran. And just as I recommended you deal with it then, I'm suggesting you deal with it now. Kahled Hosseini's debut work is well worth the discomfiture.
Although Kite Runner is fiction, I have little doubt it is a story that has been acted out in some way, in some life, every day in Afghanistan. The cruelty of our world never ceases to amaze me, but then neither does the resilience of the human spirit or the love we can and do show for our fellow beings. Kite Runner gives poignant examples of both.
Hosseini's first foray into writing is an amazing success. He starts his story in the mid 1960s, prior to the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan, and ends just after the U.S. invasion there. I found the history lesson interwoven with the characters' story fascinating.
The Kite Runner follows the childhood and middle adult years of an Afghani man named Amir. His father is a larger than life business man in their community and Amir just doesn't measure up to his father's expectations. He is socially awkward and smaller than the school bullies. His only real friend is Hassan, the son of his family's servant, but as a youth of privilege, he is shamed by this friendship. Though they have been raised almost like brothers , Amir struggles with the intricacies of social order, strained familial bonds and loneliness.
Something terribly tragic happens when he is twelve that seems to test his worth as a human being, setting him on a course of self loathing that does not resolve itself until years later.
The tragedy of Amir's story comes from the fact that so many of us do some of the most idiotic things in our youth, when we don't fully understand the consequences of our actions, yet the repercussions can haunt us for years! Amir realizes later in life the love he should have accepted and the strength that was always within him. Sounds familiar, huh? I liked Amir's story because it showed a character that was able to come to terms with his crappy childhood and youthful ignorance, to find redemption in an unexpected way. I think for many of us, we finally hit our stride as individuals in our thirties, finally leaving being the difficulties of our childhood and embracing our worth as adults; I know from personal experience. The Kite Runner has a bittersweet ending, but one that gives us hope for Amir's future...and maybe even our own.
Cry, the Beloved Country , Alan Paton;
Set in South Africa, 1948
The Judge does not make the Law. It is the People that make the Law. Therefore, if a Law is unjust, and if the Judge judges according to the Law, that is justice, even if it is not just. It is the duty of a Judge to do justice, but it is only the people that can be just.4
If only...
Apartheid: a term I came to know during high school in the 1980s. I remember the horrible stories of violence and suppression. I remember the pop stars of the day publicizing this brutal system of segregation that seemed to make U.S. race policies of the past look like a cake walk at the school carnival. I remember the name of Nelson Mandela. I saw the movie The Power of One. I was shocked any of what I heard could really be happening in a modern world; I am not so shocked anymore. I understand a good bit more of the world at 37 than I did at 16, but still not near enough to comprehend the atrocities we humans can perpetrate upon our fellow brothers and sisters. No one should ever understand that.
Although apartheid, like slavery (in the U.S.), has gone the way of the Ford Edsel, the cultural effects of these policies take generations to work themselves out. I think we've done a darned good job in the U.S. at leveling the playing field, as it were, and creating more equal opportunities for all people to pursue happiness; South Africa still has a long, hard road ahead of it.
It can be difficult at times to discuss race relations and government policies. So many, it seems, only want to focus on the wrongs of the past and what retribution can be exacted for said wrongs. Often full of hostility and short on current day solutions, such talks are rather useless if they do nothing to move us forward as a nation. With that said, what use is it to read books like Cry, the Beloved Country (1948), or one of last month's Honorable Mentions, The Fire Next Time (1963). Aren't they only dwelling on the past? Not necessarily.
In order to understand ourselves as humans, to appreciate views outside of our own race or culture, we need to look at all sides of ourselves. Black, white, asian, young, old, male, female, and on and on. We all have different, valid view points that are all based on our unique life experiences Those views describe us as individuals and societies; they explain why we believe and act as we do. I believe we have to study history- study ourselves- from every angle, and attempt to do better, markedly better in some aspects. Alan Paton does an admirable job of doing just this.
Cry, the Beloved Country is essentially the story of two fathers touched by a common tragedy: the loss of a son, but it is also a story of South Africa, and in some ways, the world.
The first man Paton introduces is an African native, Father Stephen Kumolo. Mr. Kumolo is an older man, a poor, country Anglican priest who lives in the town of Ndotsheni, far away from the metropolis of Johannesburg. He receives news that his sister, Gertrude, with whom he has had no contact in years, is in trouble and he must come to her aid in Johannesburg. Subsequently, he travels there and is befriended by a fellow priest and other kindly people who assist him, not only with his sister, but also in locating his son, Absolom. Absolom, like his aunt, seems to have been swallowed by the madness of the grand city; Kumolo and his wife have heard nothing from him since he left home some time ago.
In time, he is reunited with both sister, now a prostitute, and son, though not before Absolom is arrested for the murder of a prominent local leader. The reunions bring almost as much pain to the gentle, soft spoken priest as they do joy.
Next, Paton examines the relationship of the Englishman, James Jarvis, and his son, Arthur. Like Absolom, Arthur left his father's country home for Johannesburg and never looked back. He made a good life for himself in the city fighting Apartheid, a choice his father did not understand. James is a wealthy man of privilege, and while he is not overtly hostile to the natives, he keeps his distance. His son, however, pushes the cultural customs of the day, trying to make the politicians understand the damage their policies have inflicted upon the native Africans, keeping them poor and ignorant. As the Americans treated their own indigenous people, so did the Dutch and English in South Africa, pushing them onto barren reservation lands, destroying their tribal communities, and forcing them to subsist on a penance. Arthur dreams of changing his country and James struggles to see life through his son's eyes.
The lives of both fathers converge as Cry, the Beloved Country concludes. Each man grapples mightily with the complexities of unconditional love, forgiveness, mercy and justice in the aftermath of Absolom's crime and Arthur's life's work.
Mr. Paton does an praiseworthy job at arguing both for and against the political policy of Apartheid, trying to show it for the complex issue it was. Like many government systems, the “bad” that was a part of the South African structure probably seemed so justly instituted initially, that it was in place long after any sane, humane leaders should have logically continued it. Sadly, dismantling a monolith is easier said than done.
The writing style of Cry is different from your typical fiction book. Dialogue is often imbedded in the paragraphs or set apart with a dash rather than the standard quotation marks. You get used to it though. There are sections, too, where Paton uses only dialogue as a means to argue the political points of the South African system. These sections are interesting and informative, but can also make the text feel a little disjointed. One of my favorite things about this book is the use of the Zulu language. It is very beautiful in its simplicity. Utilizing no superfluous words, it says just enough, echoing the gentle cadence of Alexander McCall Smith's, The Number One Ladies Detective Agency .
Cry, the Beloved Country will not be one of the most intricately plotted or scholarly books you will ever read. Nonetheless, I think you will find the lessons between its covers and the characters on its pages satisfying and your reading time well spent.
P.S. READ The different “Notes,” the Foreword and the Introduction in the 2003 edition!
Wrapping It Up
As books and life experiences go, I rather like to look at things from a “starfish on the beach” perspective. You know, the story about the person throwing the beached starfish back into the ocean after a huge storm washed thousands ashore? A passerby in awe at the sheer number of starfish on the beach tries to dissuade the good Samaritan. He tells him he can't possibly make a difference. The hero just replies, as he throws one more back into the sea, that he ‘made a difference to that one.' Many books are like that. No one on earth is ever going to read every book ever published. People are not going to be touched by every book in the same way, and there is a lot of junk out there wasting ink and trees. Some books make a difference, some make us mourn for the wasted hours of our lives we'll never get back. Despite the myriad of choices on the beach, I'm glad I got to read these four, but instead of me making the difference, they did.
Upsilamba! Until next month...
