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The Travel Wish List With Literary Accoutrements

Always Chasing Boys had a review of The End of the Alphabet, a book I read and commented on a few months ago. In her review Inquirer shared her own alphabetical travel list and asked for that of others.

Since I’ve never been able to do much of the travel I would like to do, my list is rather standard in some respects. I’ve never been to a foreign country, except for crossing the border into Mexico. I’ve only visited in a handful of states besides Texas. I have a lot of traveling I’d like to do, so this list is made difficult only by the necessity of limiting it to one place per letter of the alphabet.

A is for Australia. In a Sunburned Country by Bill Bryson would make a fun, lighthearted accompaniment to a trip Down Under.

B is for Boston. I want to see the famous places where our American history started. I’ll carry with me Johnny Tremain and David McCullough’s biography of John Adams.

C is for California, especially L.A. My book for the trip: Men to Match My Mountains by Irving Stone, a history of the settlement of the Far West in California, Utah, Colorado, and Nevada.

D is for District of Columbia, or Washington, D.C. I’ve actually been to DC once, but I’d love to return and spend a week or two in the Smithsonian and then see all the other places of historical significance in Washington.

E is for England, Anglophile that I am. I want to see all of it: London, Westminster Abbey, Buckingham Palace, the British Museum, The Tower, Oxford, Cambridge, Yorkshire, Canterbury, all the places of my imagination.

Oh, to be in England
Now that April’s there,
And whoever wakes in England
Sees, some morning, unaware,
That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf
Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf,
While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough
In England – now!
~Robert Browning

April seems like a good time to visit Merrie England, but I’ll take any time of the year.

F is for France: Paris, the south of France, a French bakery, the Louvre. Eldest Daughter has to be my tour guide when I go to France because she speaks French and because she’s been to France and knows the sites.

G is for the Grand Canyon and Gettysburg National Park. I’ve never been to either. For the canyon I could listen to Ferde Grofe’s Grand Canyon Suite, and then at Gettysburg I’d re-read The Killer Angels by Michael Shaara.

H is for Hawaii, of course. A cruise while re-reading James Michener’s Hawaii.

I is for Istanbul/Constantinople. I’d love to see the Hagia Sophia and the historical sites of ancient Byzantium. I could take Stephen Lawhead’s Byzantium.

J is for Japan. I’d like to finally read Silence by Shusaku Endo, but it might be kind of a downer for a pleasure trip. So I could also bring along a couple of manga translated from Japanese. I’ve never read any manga either.

K is for Knoxville, Tennessee because my sister lives near there, and she would show me the Appalachian Mountains and all sorts of other sights.

L is for Leningrad, now again know as St. Petersburg. I’d read Dostoyevsky or Tolstoy, of course.

M is for the Mississippi RIver. Float down the river while reading Huckleberry Finn or Cornelia Meigs’s Swift Rivers.

N is for Nagaland in northeastern India, known as “the only predominantly Baptist ethnic state in the world.” The population of Nagaland is over two million people, and 75% of those people are Baptist Christians.
Also New York City. I sometimes think that East Coast Americans in general have an attitude that says that the USA, at least the part of it that matters, begins and ends on the East Coast. However, NYC does matter, and it would be worth seeing and exploring.

O is for Oxford. I already put Oxford among the places I want to visit in England, but I want to be doubly sure to visit Oxford and Cambridge and see all the Inklings sites. I’d take my Tolkien and Lewis books along with Dorothy Sayers’s Gaudy Night.

P is for Prince Edward Island. Anne of Green Gables country.

Q is for Queen. I could at least see Buckingham Palace while I’m in England, even though I probably can’t finagle an invitation to meet the Queen.

Pussy-cat, pussy-cat, where have you been?
“I’ve been to London to look at the queen.”
Pussy-cat, pussy-cat, what did you there?
“I frightened a little mouse under the chair.”

R is for Rome, Italy. I’d like to see St. Peter’s and the Sistine Chapel, of course. The Colliseum.

S is for Scotland. How the Scots Invented the Modern World: The True Story of How Western Europe’s Poorest Nation Created Our World & Everything in It by Arthur Herman sounds like excellent reading material for this particular alongside some fiction by Alexander McCall Smith (the 44 Scotland Street series) or Sir Walter Scott (Waverly, perhaps).

T is for Tanzania: Lake Victoria, Mount Kilimanjaro, Serengeti National Park. Re-read Joy Adamson’s Born Free. Adamson actually lived in Kenya, but it’s close.

U is for Ukraine. Kiev is the largest city in Ukraine.

V is for Valparaiso, Chile. I’d like to someplace where I could try to speak Spanish and see if I can make myself understood.

W is for Wales. I could read some more Stephen Lawhead: the Robin Hood trilogy. Or some historical fiction by Or I could read Lloyd Alexander’s Prydain series all over again.

X is for Xanadu. “In Xanadu did Kublai Khan a stately pleasure dome decree/Where Alph the sacred river ran beside the sacred sea.”

Y is for Yellowstone National Park. Could I be very non-literary and watch old Yogi Bear cartoons in preparation for my trip to Yellowstone?

Z is for Zion, the Biblical name for Jerusalem. No travels would be complete without a trip to the Holy Land to see the places where Jesus walked. Exodus by Leon Uris is the perfect fiction book for this journey, and of course, the Bible would be indispensable.

Where would you like to travel, and what books would you take along?

Heroes for Haiti

Haitian Doctor Takes 100 Patients into his Home. “The injured sing Christian hymns as they huddle close together beneath sheets strung up as tents, but the earthquake still haunts them. Aftershocks rattled the city as recently as Friday morning.”

Couple Donate Wedding Reception Money to Haiti: “Guests at the Bogen-Nicholson wedding in June will have an interesting tidbit when they describe the couple’s big day: The bride and groom served peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.”

Matt and Mandy Poulter bring Maya home. They’re members of an E-free church, and they homeschool their five children. Yeah!

Esther, Illustrated

420px-Esthermillais

Esther by John Everett Millais.

She’s not as beautiful in this painting as I would have imagined her, or perhaps she’s just not exactly fitting my cultural expectations. Of course, she’s also awfully fair-skinned, not very Jewish looking to me at all. If there is such a thing a “Jewish-looking.” And there has been a lot of discussion of that particular aspect of illustrating stories lately.

Millais borrowed the Yellow Jacket, “a gown given to General Gordon by the Chinese emperor after his defeat of the Taiping rebellion.” But Millais turned the gown inside-out so that it wouldn’t look Chinese. (The book of Esther takes place in the Persian court of King Xerxes.) Esther is supposed to be adjusting her pearls and preparing to put on her crown. She doesn’t look particularly frightened or brave to me. Maybe thoughtful.

Reading Through Haiti

Mitali Perkins gives us Kid and YA books set in Haiti.

Amy Wilentz’s Haiti Booklist These books look as if they mostly deal with Haiti from a liberal, US-bashing point of view, but they’re filled with solid history and ambience, too.
“There is a surprising amount of stuff written by Haitians and others about the country–libraries full of it. Haiti’s writing elite is prolific, and the people who love Haiti for some reason are often writers.”

Other selections:
Mountains Beyond Mountains by Tracy Kidder. I read this book about American philanthropist Paul Farmer back in 2006, but didn’t review it. I think that’s because I had mixed feelings about it. Mr. Farmer sounds like a hard man to know, but one you would want on your side in a crunch. He’s obviously dedicated to the eradication of tuberculosis and to relieving poverty, and most of his work has been in Haiti.

Brother, I’m Dying by Edwidge Danticat. “In a single day in 2004, Danticat learns that she’s pregnant and that her father, André, is dying—a stirring constellation of events that frames this Haitian immigrant family’s story.” The Haitian bornDanticat has written several novels and other books set in and around Haiti, including Breath, Eyes, Memory and The Dew Breaker.

Tonight By Sea by Frances Temple. “When the brutal macoute regime in Haiti kills her friend Jean-Desir, Paulie realizes that she must do more than flee, and she sets upon a dangerous course to make her community’s plight known.”

Blogs from Haiti

Adventures in Life: “Hymns were rising up all around us by groups of people singing praises in the streets, calming themselves with their faith, relying on spiritual strength to hold them up. It did not cover up the wailing. The sirens.”

The Livesay (Haiti) Weblog: “The Haitians say, “kenbe fem” or hold/stand firm. Our prayers in the days ahead are for exactly that. And for those coming to their aid – that they will be able to do the same.”

There Is No Such Thing as a God-Forsaken Town: “Please, please pray. Things are worse than anyone can imagine. Our whole family is fine and our house and school are standing and apparently undamaged. 14 others at our house.”

Ellen in Haiti: “There needs to be a massive aid effort to restore order (I saw random incidents of mass hysteria), feed people, and get clean water to the population. Large refugee camps need to be set up throughout the city and it will be important to have security forces that can restore order, especially as time goes on. There also needs to be a huge effort to evacuate people who were injured by falling debris and concrete.”

Real Hope for Haiti Rescue Center blog.

The Apparent Project: “Haitians pray with hands waving and eyes open, much like the early church “orant” posture for prayer. The hills and streets were alive with waving hands, and above the wailing and weeping, we could hear many people saying “Meci Jezi, Meci Senye” (Thank you Jesus, Thank you Lord).”

Buxman Haiti: “Shock can carry you a long way – you feel numb and just function. I keep waking every morning hoping it was just a bad dream. I have a home, water, food.”

Life and Times of the Mangine Many: “Everyone here mourns. The Bible says, “Blessed are those who mourn for they will be comforted.” I ultimately trust God and believe his word is truth… but man, right now– there just is no comfort to be found… everyone has lost someone. There is no one here to be the comforters.”

Rollings in Haiti: “The reality is that no one has any answers right now about anything. We don’t know what food supplies will be like in two weeks or even a month. We don’t know how much fuel will be available. Nobody knows much of anything right now.”

Cry Haiti: “Haiti is a country in which so many people had nothing, and yet now, these people have lost everything. The Haitian staff tell me that schools, universities and workplaces have been obliterated. The government buildings have all been damaged or completely destroyed. None of the government ministers can be located. When all is said and done, there will be no return to normal in Haiti.”

Wanting Mor by Rukhsana Khan

Afghanistan is in the news almost every day, and those children who hear about the war there have questions about the people of Afghanistan and the culture there. Wanting Mor by Pakistani author Rukhsana Khan could serve as an introduction to a country that has become, for better or for worse, a preoccupying subject for Americans and for the world.

When Jameela’s mother, Mor, dies, her father decides that he and Jameela will move from their village to Kabul to start a new life. Unfortunately, Jameela’s father is a self-centered and cruel man. In a story that reminded me of Hansel and Gretel, Jameela’s father acquires a new wife, and then decides that Jameela, with her cleft lip and general uselessness, is an impediment to his new life.

The points that interested me the most in this book were those where cultures and ideas intersected. Jameela’s father and his new wife are typical of city dwellers in many third world and Muslim countries who are becoming Westernized and losing their loyalty to traditional customs and religious laws. Jameela herself finds comfort and strength in the traditions of Islam, particularly the head covering or chadri (also called a burka), that serves to protect Jameela from prying eyes and from the embarrassment that she feels over her cleft lip. The orphanage where Jameela ends up living is dependent on the charity of Americans and of other wealthy Afghanis and foreigners, but the attitude that children and the management of the orphanage have toward these benefactors is sometimes less than respectful or even grateful. This conversation between Jameela and another of the orphans shows the difficulties in such a relationship and perhaps could clue us in to how the Muslim world in general might feel about Americans and other westerners a lot of the time:

“What do you think of this new donor lady?”
I shrug. “She seems all right.”
“They all do when they first arrive.”
“What about the soldiers? They didn’t do anything wrong.”
Suraya scowls. “They’re invaders. They want to control us. They won’t be happy until they change us so we’re just like them.”
“They fixed things. You should be grateful.”
Soraya stands up and paces around our small room.
“I’m tired of being grateful.”

People do get tired of being grateful. And somehow we will have to find a way to leave Afghanistan, and Iraq, with a sense of mutual respect and cooperation. At least, I hope we can.

And I hope we can find a way to help girls like Jameela without taking away their cultural heritage or their self-respect.

Amazon Affiliate. If you click on a book cover here to go to Amazon and buy something, I receive a very small percentage of the purchase price.
This book is also nominated for a Cybil Award, but the views expressed here are strictly my own.

Advanced Reading Survey: The Importance of Living by Lin Yutang

I’ve decided that on Mondays I’m going to revisit the books I read for a course in college called Advanced Reading Survey, taught by the eminent scholar and lovable professor, Dr. Huff. I’m not going to re-read all the books and poems I read for that course, probably more than fifty, but I am going to post to Semicolon the entries in the reading journal that I was required to keep for that class because I think that my entries on these works of literature may be of interest to readers here and because I’m afraid that the thirty year old spiral notebook in which I wrote these entries may fall apart ere long. I may offer my more mature perspective on the books, too, if I remember enough about them to do so.

Author:
Lin Yutang, or Lin Yu-t’ang, was a Chinese American author born in China and educated in Christian schools there. He later moved to New York and still later to Singapore. He also moved from a childhood immersed in Christianity to a sort of joyful paganism and then back to a deep commitment to Christ and to the church. At the time that his most famous book of essays, The Importance of Living, was written (1937), Mr. Lin was in the happy Chinese pagan chapter of his life. He later wrote another book, From Pagan to Christian, in 1959 that detailed his return to Christianity and the reasons for it. Lin Yutang was a best-selling author, and he was nominated for the Nobel Prize for Literature several times in the 1970’s. He is said to have been a writer who bridged Eastern and Western cultures. Oh, and he also invented and patented a Chinese typewriter.

Quotations:
“Somehow the human mind is forever elusive, uncatchable, and unpredictable and manages to wriggle out of mechanistic laws or a materialistic dialectic that crazy psychologists and unmarried economists are trying to impose upon him.”

“The world, I believe, is far too serious, and being far too serious, it has need of a wise and merry philosophy.”

“A plan that is sure to be carried out to its last detail already loses interest for me.”

“Somewhere in our adult life, our sentimental nature is killed, strangled, chilled, or atrophied by an unkind surrounding, largely through our own fault in neglecting to keep it alive or our failure to keep clear of such surroundings.”

“No one should aim at writing immortal poetry, one should learn the writing of poems merely as a way to record a meaningful moment, a personal mood, or to help the enjoyment of Nature.”

“Scholars who are worth anything at all never know what is called “a hard grind” or what “bitter study” means. They merely love books and read on because they cannot help themselves.”

“Besides the noble art of getting things done, there is the noble art of leaving things undone. The wisdom of life consists in the elimination of non-essentials.”

I really would like to re-read Mr. Lin’s essays on living a good and wise and simplified life. Maybe when I simplify my life . . .

Reading Through Asia: Vietnam

Hitchhiking Vietnam: A Woman’s Solo Journey in an Elusive Land by Karin Muller. Globe Pequot Press, 1998.

I enjoyed reading this memoir/travelogue of an American woman who spent seven months in post-war Vietnam, traveling by bus, motorcycle, bicycle and on foot from the Mekong Delta to the northern border with China and along the Ho Chi Minh Trail. She endured hardships and discomforts that would have sent me scuttling back to Texas within the first few pages, but I never was sure why. Ms. Muller tries to explain in the book. She writes about her mother’s stories of growing up in Africa and about the sense of adventure she inherited from her somewhat peripatetic parents. However, and maybe it was just my underdeveloped sense of adventure, the Vietnam Karin Muller describes is not inviting; it’s full of greed, bribery, poverty, alcoholism, and political corruption. And that’s just among the tourist population. The Vietnamese themselves, with a few exceptions, are out to get as many American dollars as possible or in the case of the government bureaucrats and the police, determined to make travel as difficult as possible for anyone with fair skin and a camera. Muller keeps lookng for a “village” where she can live for awhile and enjoy her Rousseau-inspired vision of happy natives living simple, uncluttered lives. She does find such villages a couple of times during her odyssey, but the visit usually comes to an abrupt end when government officials or basic materialism intervene.

The book, while fascinating in its descriptions of modern Vietnam from a foreigner’s perspective, didn’t stir my sense of adventure, nor did it make me want to hop on a plane for Vietnam. But don’t go by me. Eldest Daughter told me today that I was a stick in the mud, and my idea of a wonderful trip involves London, Oxford, Cambridge, and Stratford-on-the-Avon. I think I’ll stick with the armchair travel route to Asia since I’m spoiled by basic conveniences such as flush toilets and clean drinking water and food that doesn’t contain parasites.

One thing I found interesting, and sad, is that Vietnam seems to be going the way of China with its one-child policy as exemplified in this account of a conversation that the author had with a group of Vietnamese soldiers:

“To my surprise, not one of them had more than two children in a land that valued family above all else, the larger the better. My driver reminded me of the billboards I had seen in almost every town, proclaiming the new government in favor of small families, with captions reading, ‘Have one or two children!’ Army doctrine apparently took a more active role, and soldiers were demoted one star for every child more than two.”

There were other stories that shed light on the current state of the people of Vietnam: Ms. Muller’s friend and erstwhile guide Tam tells her about his struggles to survive in post-war Vietnam as a former interpreter for the U.S. Marines during the war.

One chapter focuses on the Zao village in northern Vietnam where Ms. Muller spends a week living with a family of rice-growers. It’s somewhat idyllic, with a patriarchal extended family working together to build the family’s fortunes and find marriages for its young men and women. However, the chapter also includes a badly burned baby with no medical care other than a tube of athlete’s foot medication salvaged from the Red Cross at some time in the history of the village. Not so idyllic after all.

In the final analysis, I just couldn’t figure out why Karin Muller wanted to travel through Vietnam. She seemed to have some compassion for the people whose lives were so poverty-stricken. But harking back to a bad experience in the Peace Corps in the Philippines, Ms. Muller doesn’t think she can make a difference in the people’s lives nor that she has any right to try. She does try to rescue some endangered animals (a gibbon, baby leopards, and an eagle) destined for the medicinal markets of China, but the results of that attempt at good works are mixed. She says at the beginning of the book that she wants to understand the Vietnamese people and their ability to forgive their former enemies, the Americans. Maybe cultural understanding was enough of a goal to get her through sleepless nights in squalid surroundings, dysentery and scurvy, and countless bureaucratic tangles and arguments.

It wouldn’t be enough for me. I’m not only a stick in the mud; I’m also a wimp.

Other Vietnam books I have read or want to read:

I’ve heard that The Things They Carried by Tim O’Brien is a good read about the Vietnam War and the American soldiers who fought and died in it. I have the book on my shelf, but I haven’t read it yet. I did read Phillip Caputo’s classic memoir A Rumor of War (a long time ago), and I remember it as fascinating, disturbing, but sometimes simplistic. Either of these books would probably teach the reader a lot about Americans in Vietnam, but not too much about Vietnam or the Vietnamese themselves.

For children or yong adults the following books might be helpful in understanding Vietnamese culture and interactions:

Goodbye, Vietnam by Gloria Whelan.
Cracker: The Best Dog in Vietnam by Cynthia Kadohata. Semicolon review here.
When Heaven Fell by Carolyn Marsden. Semicolon review here.
Fallen Angels by Walter Dean Myers. Perry, a teenager from Harlem, experiences the horrors of the Vietnam War.
Paradise of the Blind by Thu Huong Duong and Nina McPherson. This book is a YA coming of age novel of post-war Vietnam, originally written in Vietnamese, banned in Vietnam, and later translated into English and published in the U.S. It sounds like a wonderful window into Vietnam written by a Vietnamese author.

For today’s round-up of reviews of titles set in Southeast Asia or written by Southeast Asian authors, check out the One Shot World Tour at Chasing Ray.

Reading Through Asia: Cambodia

First I read When Broken Glass Floats by Chanrithy Him. This harrowing and honest memoir of young girl growing up in Khmer Rouge-ruled Kampuchea was my introduction to the literature of the Cambodian Holocaust. I’ve never seen the movie that everybody seems to reference when talking about the horror that was Pol Pot’s Kampuchea because I cannot watch reenactments of actual, horrible events. I’ve also never seen Schindler’s List nor The Passion of the Christ. Reading about such events and acts is bad enough.

During the time covered in the book, Chanrithy Him suffered the loss of her father, murdered in a “re-education camp”, her mother, who died in a squalid hospital from untreated disease and malnutrition, five siblings, who died of malnutrition and disease, and other family members lost to the insane and disastrous policies of the Khmer Rouge government. The book begins with some background about Chanrithy Him’s childhood, but focuses on the details of her daily life in Cambodia/Kampuchea from April 17, 1975 when the Khmer Rouge entered Phnom Pen until her escape a few years later with what remained of her family to a refugee camp in Thailand.

“Death is a constant, and we’ve become numb to the shock of it. People die here and there, all around us, falling like flies that have been sprayed with poison.”

You can read the first chapter of When Broken Glass Floats online here.
And here is an interesting review of three memoirs of the Cambodian Killing Fields, all published in 2000: Music through the Dark, written by Bree Lefreniere and narrated by Daran Kravanh, When Broken Glass Floats by Chanrithy Him, and First They Killed My Father by Loung Ung.

Next I read When the War Was Over: Cambodia and the Khmer Rouge Revolution by Elizabeth Becker. This book was a more complete history of Cambodia before and during Pol Pot’s reign of terror. The author attempted to show how Pol Pot and cohorts came into power, what kept them in power, and what the effects of their genocidal policies were on the people of Cambodia. It’s a decent enough attempt, but Ms. Becker gets bogged down in the details and sometimes fails to explain the larger picture. Pol Pot and his friends sometimes seem like sympathetic characters even in the midst of their carrying out of horrendous acts simply because they are humans who even turn against one another at intervals.

Some of the most memorable passages in the book tell about Becker’s personal experiences in Cambodia as the guest of the Khmer Rouge regime. She was invited, along with two other journalists, in December 1978 to see what the Khmer Rouge had accomplished in a little over three years of rule in Cambodia. She, of course, saw only what the government wanted her to see, and she was unable to talk to people or see anything without the ever-present guides and translators who presented the Communist propaganda line in spite of the general appearance of grinding poverty and escalating violence and paranoia. Becker’s visit came to a climax with the midnight murder of one of her fellow journalists, Malcolm Caldwell, a sympathizer with the Khmer Rouge government, who nevertheless became a victim of its incompetence and general craziness.

Read this one for all the detailed information and for an idea of what was going on when all over the country and in foreign countries in relation to Cambodia. Read some of the memoirs and personal stories listed above to get a feel for what horror was perpetrated by the this so-called “agrarian communist utopia of Democratic Kampuchea.”

For today’s round-up of reviews of titles set in Southeast Asia or written by Southeast Asian authors, check out the One Shot World Tour at Chasing Ray.

Fieldwork by Mischa Berlinski

I read this 2007 National Book Award finalist because Mindy Withrow said it was good. She was right.

End of review. Read it.

*****************

Just kidding. But you really should read the book before you read my thoughts about the book because there are many, many things to discuss here. But you should come to the book without preconceived notions. So go thou hence to the bookstore or the library, and then come back, and we’ll talk.

Martiya is an anthropologist and a murderer. How do we reconcile those two legacies? That’s a lot of what the book is about. How could such an intelligent, lively, promising, woman have first buried herself in a native village in northern Thailand and then killed a man in cold blood? Make no mistake, Martiya does bury herself. She goes to Thailand looking for a soul-changing experience, and she gets one. She can never go back to Berkley again, not even to Western civilization anywhere. She becomes a part of the Dyalo culture she is studying, then becomes an outcast, then when she tries to be reborn into Western Christianity, she is rejected again.

Looking at this novel from my own perspective, that of an evangelical Christian sympathetic to the missionaries, the Walker family, I read the story of a woman, unsaved and unprotected by the blood of Jesus Christ, who decides to take up residence with demons and becomes enslaved to them and to the evil that they represent. In the Walkers, especially Thomas and Naomi Walker, I see a family of Christians who make a crucial mistake in their dealings with Martiya, in not seeing her as sinner in need of salvation just as much as the Dyalos need liberation from demonic bondage. Thomas and Naomi Walker pay for that mistake with the life of their only son.

However, one could read the story as the saga of an anthropologist who is driven mad by her long exile from Western civilization and who is finally broken by the single-minded jealousy of a an offended woman (Naomi) who should be able to overlook Martiya’s sin if Christianity is really true. However, I am left with questions that make me want to re-read the novel to see what I missed:

Are all the characters in the novel possessed by their own particular view of the world such that they can’t see each other or love each other? Why does Martiya seem to be so happy in the end in the prison as she works on her ethnography of prison life? And if she is happy in that work, why does she commit suicide? Because she’s finished? Because Rice is finished with her? How do Laura and Thomas Walker reconcile their part in their son’s death with their continuing work as missionaries? Why does the author imply that it takes a supernatural experience of hearing singing angels in the sky to become a committed Christian? Does he believe that? Why does Martiya’s paramour Hupasha remain faithful to Christ even after others have fallen away? What is the significance of drugs, particularly opium in the novel? Martiya commits suicide with a ball of opium. The narrator smokes opium and says that he hears the final episode of the story from the lips of Martiya’s ghost. Is opium related to the demonic practices of the Dyalo, to the traditions that Christianity is there to destroy? Can one enter into the native’s point of view and still remain an impartial observer, a scientist? Once you’ve “gone native” are you a better anthropologist or a worse one?

I may have to add this novel to my list of all-time favorites. It’s absolutely fascinating on many levels. And as an added fillip to my reading of the novel, it bears some relation to things that are going on in my own family. Eldest Daughter’s boyfriend just left to go to Thailand with this group to live in a a poor section of Bangkok for four months as a missionary. I also think he’s trying to figure out the course of his own life, looking for a “transformation of the observer’s soul” in the perhaps overly dramatic words of the author of Fieldwork. We’ll see what he finds.