It is about Iceland. After visiting Japan, which to me felt so island-like, a different sort of undercurrent of an island nation, a different feeling that flows through people, culture, books, just the land itself. I was inspired to pick another island. I remember reading Clezio's writing on Mauritius, and it was beautiful, sparse, slow, tranquil, poetic in its own way. As Iceland also has a nobel prize winner, what better than to try to read one of their books. It is a country sort of removed from the rest of the world, a different geography, different means of living. How does the human spirit respond in these cases?
Reading it gave me the pleasure of those old Russian long books evoking a rich sense of time, place, sensibility. And yet, it is about the very basics, the trappings of life are the bare necessities to survive, the key thing is freedom, independence, or in some way, self-reliance. And that is a life affirming, positive spirit, an elevating idea, expanding the reader's heart. Guess we need more such ideas in the world, which expand people's hearts, make them aware of the divinities within, the indomitable human spirit, the biggest divinity ever.
The book cover says one of the readers saying that they cannot imagine a joy greater than coming to 'Independent People' for the first time. And then introduction talks about another reader calling it a book of their life. And after finishing it, slowly, unwillingly closing the last page, one almost understands the desire to reread. There is a difference between books that hook you and books that meet you on equal terms without sending out any hooks or grips. The hooking is generally in human sentimental register, the pleasures short-term, and as Shakespeare says, none too soon had than despised. But the equality of meeting, which I guess is the only principle that upholds the universe, allows the self to be lifted to the same level as the principle on other side. It doesn't hold, bound, grip or hook you. It lets you be. And you return of your own accord, drawn by the simplicity, the sincerity, the truth of the writing. And one needs to keep getting away to assimiliate it well. And one needs to keep coming back. And it takes all the time in the world! Guess the difference between great literature and any other writing.
I have been reading many other things, and then I have this personal reading project of reading the nobel winners - one thinks that given they come from across the world, and their word has been revered, regarded well by so many, one can just about aspire to know the world through those words, and those eyes. And then I read bridge on drina earlier this year, I read Kawabata, I am reading Tagore, and I read Laxness. And I read a lot many new and old authors which set the world context of their time and place, but the spirit context is set by these amazing (the N prize) writers I guess. Their slow, rich prose. Their way of seeing the world. Their wisdom, good sense, good, healthy sense. Their positive undercurrent affirming life and spirit and 'whatever the circumstances, it is about moving forward in the best possible way', despite all the human miseries going on in the books yet yet yet uplifts you. What better prayer for a reader?