What Stories Tell
Thursday, May 04, 2006
♥ Thursday, May 04, 2006
Yes, another 3 bks. And a ton of reflection.
Snow Falling On Cedars (220406) by David Guterson is a book given by my cousin. Its about a trial regarding the murder of a caucasian businessman, and who's alleged murderer is a japanese. With that, they tie in issues of world war 2, a secret romance with the jap's wife and some reporter. Ok, this isnt exactly a Danielle Steele kinda bk, but when it comes to love scenes, the author sure is, vivid about it. Certain issues like discrimination, redemption are discussed here. Quite finely illustrated characters.
The Sea (270406) by John Banville is a book with about 260 pages. To tell the truth? Up to page 200 and i still havent got a clue what its going on about. Something about the past, and also this guy having some romance that he found hard to let go of. Without the synopsis, i probably wouldnt even be able to blog about this bk. The language is crazily bombastic. i htink to actually absorb its content, u got to be either a linguist, or have a dictionary by the side. ha. So, in the end i manage to get a slight piece of the story. But this guy managed to create some very abstract spiritual scene, which i figured out after reading the para 3 times, succintly. Too many, its a gd bk.
Curious Incident of Dog in the Night Time (020506) by Mark Haddon, is a narrative, whose character is that of an autistic child, who also happens to be maths whiz and philospher. Story turns out to be pretty heartwarming, as the child discovers the lies about his family and leaves his father to find his mother. Not exactly interesting. I think the word would be, convincing.As the character. And i guess his evolution of thought, how he rationalizes on choices he have.
This time round, all 3 books received some award. Whitbread, or Man Booker prize, or Pen/Faulkner Award. So i guess its recommendable. The question is, what do the stories tell me about me? What is my story to tell?
Its a difficult question. At this point in time? My story is about the truth and lies, the smiles and cries, the literal and the metaphorical. Whats the truth and whats the lie- that i am reading a book by Pope John Paul in the morning and going Zouk in the night. Whats the smile and whats the cry- that i find ideals exist, only to realise it exists temporarily. Whats the literal and whats the metaphorical- that i read books, or i have become a book to be written by the authors i read about. Shoot, i sound like im in a state of despair. Let me clarify, i am not.
Had a nice chat with Kelly 2-3 days back. Inevitably, we exchanged such stories. Perhaps not in such detail that leave one feeling 'naked', but an exchange where certain characteristics and lines of thought were illuminated. Somehow its spontaneity that sparks off the deepest of conversation. Human planning, as the intention to get to know a person, leaves one guarded and what one goes through feels more like an act than smth meaningful. Well, i left with a clearer understanding of my story.
Relationships have become the epicentre of my story. Not philosphy, not psychology. Those are mere intellectual pornography- the stimulation of mere peripherals. My relationship with people, my relationship with God, tell me most about me. Amor sui ad contemptum Dei. The love of self to the point there's contempt for God. The beginning of all Falls. There's a huge gap suddenly in 1 of my friendships. I aint touchy feely abt it. Its just a disappointment. Which makes me ask this. Are the people around me, my means, or my ends? Cuz if they're means, i have become one big manipulative SOB; and if they're ends, haha i'd deem myself a saint. See the logical progression: If i was disappointed, my expectations were obviously not met. If expectations exist, i obviously wanted soemthing for myself, something i din get. Now if i wanted soemthing for myself, through that person, that makes him/ her the means? And if so, does that head towards self love?
Lets get analytical. If i am at my centre of my perceptive 'story', i have become the limit to my realities, my obstruction and my liberation, my freedom and my enslavement. Thats what the Pope said, that Descartes' 'i think therefore i am' have put philosphy into a perspective that comes from the individual. And with that the Catholic Church, i think, argues that when they said Man is in the centre of the universe, they don mean it cosmologically/ literally, they mean it philosophically. In this case, 'universe' becomes synonymous with 'my story'. My story that has imagination plagued with roots of desire and fears, my story that has fantasy stained by yearnings, and my story that i ultimately realise, only I can change.
God's the author of my life, and I am an actor. If he writes peace, my stage becomes an oasis.
Hear Don Moen's version of Our Father. Have that foretaste of this oasis. Its called prayer synonymous with silence, synonymous with 'adoration', synonymous with peace.
