THE BROTHERS LIONHEART

Author: Astrid Lindgren
Year: 1973
Publisher: Rabén & Sjögren
Language: Swedish

The year 2023 marks the 50th anniversary of Astrid Lindgren's enduring masterpiece, "Bröderna Lejonhjärta" ("The Brothers Lionheart.") This tale emerged nearly two decades after her inaugural foray into the realm of high fantasy with the timeless classic, "Mio, My Son." While the latter multiple times as a child, I regrettably never embarked upon the journey through the pages of the former. The outline of the story was well-known to me, of course, yet the actual text remained a stranger. As 2023 dawned as "the year I finally read...", it felt apt to commemorate this momentous anniversary by immersing myself in its paper and ink, at long last.

Legend has it that Astrid Lindgren's inspiration for writing the tale of two brothers bound by death and the afterlife was kindled during a visit to a cemetery. There, she encountered a tombstone, bearing tribute to three brothers who departed from this world in the same year and now rested together in eternity.

The relationship between Jonatan and Karl Lejon, aged thirteen and ten, respectively, constitutes the core of this narrative. Jonatan, endowed with intellect, charisma, and a radiant personality, basks in the affection of all who know him, both at home and at school. In stark contrast, Karl is sickly, shackled to a bedridden existence, distorted by ailment, and burdened with a self-perception of inadequacy. He is also the narrator of the story.

Karl is fully aware of his impending death and in an endeavour to console his ailing brother, Jonatan tells him of the afterworld, which he calls Nangijala. Tragedy strikes when Jonatan shortly thereafter succumbs to an accidental fire in a valiant attempt to rescue his younger sibling. Karl is completely destroyed by the loss of his brother and finds solace only in the thought of an expeditious passage to Nangijala where he believes that they will be reunited. It is in this enchanted realm that their adventures commence. Nangijala, a realm teeming with wonder, yet veiled in shadows far more sinister than the brothers could have ever imagined.

There are two accepted interpretations of this tale. One posits that the Lejon boys, bestowed with the epithet "Lionheart" for their valour and courage in the afterlife, are indeed transported to a tangible realm postmortem. The other, perhaps more in alignment with Lindgren's own intent as revealed in interviews, suggests that the entire narrative unfolds as a product of Karl's fevered longing for Jonatan, an imaginary manifestation of his yearning.

As a child, one reason I never managed to get past the first chapters lay in the profound bond shared by Jonatan and Karl. Jonatan's unwavering devotion to his ailing sibling and his tragic demise left a lump in my throat, rendering me incapable of progressing further. As an adult, I embarked on this literary voyage once more, only to find the lump returning, a testament to Lindgren's remarkable craftsmanship. She possessed the rare gift of identifying the precise spot at which to linger, sometimes with one simple sentence, to punch a hole in one’s armour, granting the emotions unbridled freedom. Writing primarily for children, she was unconstrained by the burdens of pretension, while being confined to a restricted vocabulary to forge a supremely honest, direct, and compelling story of good and evil, courage and cowardice, and loyalty and betrayal.

I do not claim to be an expert in the domains of either fantasy or children's literature, yet I am unequivocal in my conviction: "Bröderna Lejonhjärta" stands as an indomitable masterpiece, an opus transcending the bounds of time and age.

HEART OF DARKNESS & TALES OF UNREST

Author: Joseph Conrad
Year: 2018 (1899)
Publisher: Arcturus Publishing
Language: English

This summer, I seem to spend an unusual amount of time in the literary wilderness. Already having reviewed Henryk Sienkiewicz’s “In Desert and Wilderness” (see review from June 2023) and Rudyard Kipling’s “The Jungle Book” (see review from August 2023), the time has come for me to try Joseph Conrad’s classic novella “Heart of Darkness” on for size.

“Heart of Darkness” is a cornerstone in modernist literature and delves into the complexities of imperialism and the darkest alcoves of the human psyche. Published in 1899, it remains a subject of critical analysis and debate, as it raises profound questions about the consequences of colonialism and the conflicted relationship of 19^th century Europeans to the ethnocentric and largely arbitrary distinction between civilization and savagery.

This story of modest proportions, provides a blistering critique of European imperialism and the rapacious exploitation of Africa. The novella's setting along the Congo River serves as a microcosm for the larger imperial project, where European powers used to extract ivory and resources with little regard for the indigenous populations. Conrad's portrayal of the company's brutality and the dehumanisation of Africans underlines the moral bankruptcy of imperialism. The Congo becomes a symbol of the darkness that lurks beneath the veneer of European civilisation. Although Africa is sometimes referred to as ‘the dark continent’, the darkness in Conrad’s story does not come from there. It comes from Europe.

The character Kurtz, in particular, epitomises the corrupting influence of power on a European mind. Initially portrayed as an idealistic and talented ivory trader, Kurtz descends into madness and brutality in the heart of Africa. This transformation raises questions about the perversive effect of unchecked power and the capacity for evil embedded in European mentality.

In simplified terms, it may appear straightforward to argue that the Nietzschean concept of will to power manifests itself in its full glory in Conrad’s novella. The company's exploitation of Africa and its resources, driven by a relentless quest for profit, could be cited as examples of the inherent human desire for control and mastery over others and over nature. Nietzsche’s ideas of master and slave mentality also come to mind. I find it useful for the understanding of Conrad’s critique of colonisation to dwell for a while on why Nietzsche’s concepts of master and slave morality do not in fact apply.

Among the key concepts of Nietzsche’s thinking is the distinction between Macht (power) and Kraft (strength), which is not always correctly understood by his readers. The idea of Kraft is largely associated with the ability to impose ones will upon another by force. Macht, on the other hand, is first and foremost directed at the individual’s ability to take control over one’s own actions, reactions, emotions, and ultimately course of life. If that includes imposing one’s will on others, so be it, but it is not the essential meaning of the core concept. This also relates to the Master and slave morality dichotomy. The Master morality is characterised by intrepidity, individualism, and nobility, whereas the slave is characterised by conformity, submission, and humility.

Looking at Heart of Darkness through the Nietzschean prism, one will be bound to see that the colonisers established and maintained their domination of Africa by the use of strength, but their actions are governed exclusively by external forces such as greed and the pursuit of social status. Their interest for self-development, high-mindedness, courage, and individualism is close to nil. The characters’ conformist pursuits push them to extremes and make them commit unthinkable actions in the name of obedience and submission to social expectations. They are, by the looks of it, driven by slave morality and unable to obtain power without losing their minds. Conrad’s genius is thus to turn the self-aggrandised image of colonial Europe against itself as if he were holding up a mirror to a boastful creature thinking itself to be a prince, only for it to see that it is in fact a frog. To Nietzsche, the will do power leads to the rise of the Übermensch. There is no sign of an Übermensch in “Heart of Darkness”.

Now, while “Heart of Darkness” is a powerful critique of colonialism, it has also been criticised itself for its racist undertones. Some argue that Conrad's portrayal of Africans and his use of racial stereotypes reflect the prejudices of his time. This aspect of the novella has led to ongoing debates about whether the work is inherently racist or a condemnation of racism. My position in this ongoing debate, which also encompasses many other works of art from times long past, is that each writer in his or her time, uses the language that is available to them. There is a reason Mozart did not compose jazz tunes. Conrad used the language and the symbols available to him at the time. Even if he had been capable to write any differently, his message may not have been intelligible to the readers of his era. His intentions and his anti-colonial agenda could not be clearer and I am not willing to sacrifice that on a conceptual altar that was not erected until a century later.

Having said that, my final note is on the writing itself. Picking up this title, I was fully aware of Conrad’s legendary use of the English language, having read some of his works before. I braced myself for a ride on the rapids of linguistic contortion. I was however rather disappointed by the end result. In my view, the purpose of advanced use of language is to increase accuracy of the communication and to embellish or deepen the story telling. In Conrad’s case, more often than not, I found the choice of less frequently used words in the English language pointless. As if the writer was looking for, or even manufacturing, opportunities to squeeze in an odd, technical, or archaic word into the text. Some sentences seem to be there just to show off a particular vocabulary. Even still, despite all this forced variety, the word “brooding” occurs no less than five times in the first few pages of the book. One would think that a writer who by all conceivable accounts seems to have swallowed a thesaurus, would have managed to find a synonym for his favourite word.

“Heart of Darkness” is not the only story in this volume. It is followed by a series of five short-stories under the collective title “Tales of Unrest”.

“Karain – A Memory” is one of Conrad’s early Malay stories and is about how a Dutchman bulldozes into a fragile Malay society and brings dishonour to the people. It tells about their revenge and their remorse as manifested by an imagined ghost haunting their chieftain.

“The Idiots” is set in Europe, more specifically in Brittany. The story describes how a couple has one child after the other, each with a mental disorder and how the stress that this puts on the family leads to fatal consequences.

“An Outpost of Progress” brings the reader to West Africa. Two moderately qualified administrators for a trading post are duped by their local foreman into accepting outrageous terms for a transaction of ivory which ultimately leads to a deadly rift between them.  

“The Return” is based in the City of London and circles around how an up-and-coming gentleman’s response to his wife almost (but not actually) cheating on him spirals out of control and about how artificial appearances clash with human desire.

“The Lagoon” brings Conrad back to the rivers of Malaysia and tells the story of an indigenous man who is so blinded by love for a woman that he is capable of no other decisions than those which will immediately guarantee his possession of her.

Though still composed in a language that is varied and advanced, none of these short stories suffers from the same conspicuous linguistic preternaturalness that encumbers “Heart of Darkness”. The title of the collection as a whole is quite appropriate as there is a disturbance, a tension, or an element of asymmetry or disequilibrium in each of them that is enough to incinerate the entire fabric of reality for the characters. I particularly enjoyed “An Outpost of Progress” which I found to capture the frailty of European self-image and our inability to make rational decisions when required to act off-script in a foreign environment. The savage inside of us, Conrad seems to say, is never farther away than our next act of greed, ambition, or desire. For a species that has the audacity to call itself ‘the thinking man’, we sure are governed a lot by our primal instincts.

Finally, a shoutout to Peter Gray and Peter Ridley for the beautiful cover.

THE JUNGLE BOOK

Author: Rudyard Kipling
Year: 1961 (1894)
Publisher: Instytut Wyd. "Nasza Ksiegarnia"
Language: Polish (translator Józef Birkenmajer)

In the heart of savage wilderness, amidst the ever-shifting fabric of primal existence, dwells the chronicle of a being in search of his own essence. Within this narrative tapestry, the central figure, Mowgli, emerges as a voyager on the tempestuous sea of identity formation. An orphaned child, cast adrift upon the verdant tides of the jungle, Mowgli becomes an interface, a point of juncture, between the uncouth wilderness of beasts and the supposedly cultured dominion of man. His identity hangs suspended like a pendulum swaying between two irreconcilable worlds. “Ksiega Dzungli” (“The Jungle Book”) by Rudyard Kipling thus explores the microcosm of humanity's scattered attitude toward nature and its ceaseless quest for a home.

The jungle itself can be construed as an embodiment of the dialectic that man has struggled with since the beginning of abstract thought. Here, the Hegelian thesis of nature clashes with the antithesis of civilisation. Nature and culture are pitted against each other as mutually exclusive opposites. Mowgli, the feral child, incarnates this contradiction. He is caught in the in-between, as it were, balancing on the cusp of human society and untamed biology. His very existence mirrors the Hegelian struggle for self-realization, oscillating between individuality and universality.

Mowgli’s interactions with the jungle's inhabitants, be it the motherly panther Bagheera or the sage bear Baloo, evoke the timeless conundrum of self-discovery. In these relationships, the reader is witness to a vaudeville of influence, power, and vulnerability within a matrix of order, tradition, and honour. The matrix is put on trial by the disruptive force that is the vindictive and ruthless tiger Shere Khan. This is the disturbance that is required to ignite the dialectic. The boy in need of protection faces his fiend and by defeating him becomes a man; the synthesis. The self-realisation through conflict. The rise of a man among wolves.

Although the tale of Mowgli has established itself as the most famous of the stories in “Ksiega Dzungli”, significantly influenced, no doubt, by the Walt Disney-rendition, it is actually but one of several stories in the volume. Another noted entry is that of Rikki-Tikki-Tavi. Here, the titular mongoose stands as a metaphorical benchmark, emblematic of the primal tenacity inherent within the natural world. While Mowgli grapples with humanity as an intrinsic quality in himself, Rikki-Tikki-Tavi faces off with the perils of nature as a self-proclaimed guardian of a human family. Eager to be of service to his adopted tribe, he puts himself in harm’s way, not once but repeatedly, by challenging the fierce serpents Nag and Nagaina and protecting the humans from the legless lepidosaurs’ deadly bite. While Mowgli is torn between his biological and his circumstantial natures, Rikki-Tikki-Tavi does his best to make a place for himself in a foreign world. His struggle is with his milieu, not his own being. 

Much as I acknowledge that the book was written with young readers I mind, as always, I refuse to allow this to stand as an excuse for poor writing. On the contrary, given the restraints of the immature audience’s limited knowledge and intellectual abilities, the task of a writer for children is perhaps even more challenging than to one who is free to employ the full palette of linguistic nuance. Kipling was not a novice writer when he put together “Ksiega dzungli”. More than a decade earlier he had already established himself as a journalist and poet, and one would think that he would have a good command of the written word and the ability to identify and adapt to his recipients. As my copy is a translation, I will not comment on Kipling’s use of language but the dramaturgy and character development are in my view unsatisfactory. Both are sketchy and disjointed and they lack the immersive cadence that I have learned to expect from truly accomplished writers.

Despite all, the primary benefit of having read Kipling’s famous stories is to counterbalance Walt Disney’s distorted version of the jungle and to learn what Kipling had intended when he wrote his stories. There is a depth and a message in them that, if not done away with completely, are glossed over and trivialised in the animated film. This message, albeit clad in an outdated literary cloak, is still relevant to humanity today as our destructive effect on the climate serves as a shocking reminder of our inescapable dependence on our ecosystem.      

BUMNECDOTES, LIMERICKS, AND EPITAPHS ARE SPONSORED BY THE RUSSIAN MOB

Author: Krzysztof Daukszewicz
Year: 2008 (2004)
Publisher: Ksiegarnia Bellonia
Language: Polish

Every nation has the government it deserves, if we are to believe the Sardinian philosopher and diplomat Joseph de Maistre. Equally true perhaps, and tightly linked to Maistre’s reflection, is that every nation has the comedians it needs. For Poland, such a comedian, satirist, singer, and poet is Krzysztof Daukszewicz.

He made a name for himself already during the Polish communist era, for example as a member of the legendary satiric theatre group Kabaret Pod Egida, and has continued to be a successful commentator on current affairs in various artforms on television, on stage, and in written form as a columnist and writer.

Against this backdrop, I was understandably excited about his little collection of observations and anecdotes titled “Meneliki, limeryki, epitafia, sponsoruje ruska mafia” (not available in English but a lacklustre attempt at a translation could sound like “Bumnecdotes, Limericks, and Epitaphs Are Aponsored By the Russian Mob”). The Polish word “menel” translates to bum or hobo in English, implying both homelessness and an intimate relationship to alcohol, and denotes a most commonplace phenomenon in the Polish cultural landscape. I expected a collection of both highs and lows, a goody bag of thought-provoking musings and downright daft cock-and-bull-stories from the writer’s encounters with bums around Poland intermingled with each other, and in the end something profound to tie it all together into a coherent critique of a society that aspires to be a Christian superpower but remains incapable of sparing five measly loaves of bread and two fish to feed its weakest members. All of the above would have been compatible with Daukszewicz’s work in the past.  

Regrettably, despite the inspired title, I found that my expectations were not met. True, some of the anecdotes are witty and the outsiders that Daukszewicz has met in all corners of Poland over the years are sometimes both original and eloquent, but on a whole the ambition of the book does not seem to aim beyond the occasional laugh at the expense of people who are already struggling at the bottom of society and who serve mostly as facetious conversation starters and empty validations of our own normality, much like the village idiots of yore. The limericks, of which there are significantly fewer than the bumnecdotes, rarely follow the form of traditional limericks and equally rarely end in a funny or piquant punchline. The epitaphs are sometimes unintelligible, sometimes flat, and sometimes just in poor taste.

The highlight is the ultimate section where Daukszewicz takes on the Polish governments (both the present at the time the book was published and earlier ones). In this section, some of his keen eye for the absurd and well documented knack for undressing power come to the fore. The final entry, “Abridged minutes of the investigative committee” is actually brilliant in both form and execution.

All in all, “Meneliki, limeryki, epitafia, sponsoruje ruska mafia” is a quick and light read which unfortunately misses the mark. It does not reflect the inimitable sense of humour and sharp satirical pen of Krzysztof Daukszewicz’s who has produced significantly more powerful work both before and after this collection.

DOCTOR GLAS

Author: Hjalmar Söderberg
Year: 2010 (1905)
Publisher: Albert Bonniers Förlag
Language: Swedish

“Doktor Glas” (“Doctor Glas”) by Hjalmar Söderberg is one of the most influential modernist novels in Swedish literature and stands as a poignant and thought-provoking exploration of morality, inner conflict, and the intricacies of the human mind. Set against the backdrop of early 20^th century Stockholm, Söderberg masterfully delves into the mind of his protagonist, Doctor Tyko Glas, unravelling a gripping narrative that traverses the boundaries of ethical dilemmas and personal desires.

One of the most notable achievements of "Doktor Glas" is Söderberg's nuanced portrayal of the main character’s moral quandaries, which take centre stage throughout the novel. At its heart, “Doktor Glas” constitutes a response to e.g. Dostoyevsky’s monumental work Crime and Punishment, in which similar themes are explored from a Russian perspective half a century earlier, as well as to much of Friedrich Nietzsche’s writing on good and evil. The doctor's moral compass is challenged when he becomes entangled in the life of a young woman, Helga Gregorius, who seeks his assistance in escaping her oppressive marriage to the odious Pastor Gregorius. This catalyst for moral conflict sets in motion a series of events that propel the narrative forward while simultaneously plunging Glas into a profound examination of his own values and beliefs.

SPOILER ALERT

Whereas Dostoyevsky’s Rodion Raskolnikov commits his act early on in the story and spends the rest of the novel grappling with the consequences of his decision, Tyko Glas spends a considerable amount of time contemplating and legitimising his actions before he executes on them. Although he rationalises his actions as warranted and altruistic, two interesting observations about the underlying reason for his actions stand out to the reader:

1. It is clear from the beginning, long before Helga Gregorius visits his cabinet, that Glas despises and even hates Pastor Gregorius, Helga’s husband;

2. Helga does not outright ask Glas to neutralise her husband. All she asks is that he intervenes to give her some degree of independence from her nuptial duties.

Although, Glas tries to explain his actions as inevitable in order to rescue Helga from the pastor, and the first-person perspective allows the reader to follow the string of thoughts that Glas employs to talk himself into this conclusion, as an outsider, the reader would be forgiven for not totally accepting Glas’ narrative at face value. While Raskolnikov dug himself ever deeper into guilt, Glas swims on top of his faux justification of his deed. In Nietzschean terms one might say that Master morality is Raskolnikov’s starting point and Glas’ destination. As Nietzsche explicitly named Christian morality as slave morality, it is no coincidence that Doctor Glas’ antagonist is a pastor. What better way to challenge the slave morality imposed on us by the Church than to murder a man of the cloth? This aligns perfectly with Nietzsche's view of transcending societal constraints and moral dogmas in the pursuit of individual flourishing.  

Söderberg's prose, marked by its elegant and evocative style, serves as a vessel for the novel's exploration of complex themes. The author expertly balances moments of introspection and philosophical contemplation with vivid descriptions of the city and its inhabitants. Through rich and vivid language, Söderberg creates an atmospheric backdrop that complements the narrative's exploration of human desires, societal constraints, and the yearning for personal liberation. The author’s choice to tell the story in epistolary form through the processed first-person thoughts of the protagonist helps to make the events really come to life and become relevant to the reader.  All characters, including the doctor, are sketchy and we only get to know what we absolutely need to know in order to follow the story, but for a book this size, that is not a negative thing. The purpose that this short book was supposed to serve and the questions it was supposed to raise, come across with considerable vitality, which by any account is what Söderberg must have intended. “Doktor Glas” is a remarkable book despite its modest dimensions and I warmly recommend it to anyone who is interested in the discourse of morality, social restraints, women’s rights, and the human psyche.

THE ART OF WAR

Author: Sun Tzu
Year: 2019 (1910/~500 BC)
Publisher: Modernista
Language: Swedish (translator Bertil Häggman)

Some 500 years BC, or so the story goes, Sun Wu applied for a position as a military commander at the helm of King Helu’s army in what is today the Southern Jiangsu province of China. To test his leadership skills, the king asked him to train the royal concubines in performing military manoeuvres. Sun Wu accepted the challenge, divided the concubines into two groups, and appointed the king’s two favourite mistresses as officers in charge of each of them respectively. He proceeded to give the women basic military training but when it was time to present the king with the results, the women could not help but giggle and, understandably, make a joke out of the whole situation. Sun Wu declared that if the subordinates fail to obey orders, it is the leader’s responsibility to ensure that the orders have been clearly communicated and correctly understood. He therefore resumed training and applied strict pedagogical assiduity to secure complete understanding among the king’s concubines. Upon the next performance in front of the king, the women again found the situation bizarre and giggled through it. Sun Wu then declared that if the orders have been understood but still not followed, it is the fault of the officers, and had both the king’s favourite concubines severely punished, some versions of the story say executed. After this, Sun Wu no longer experienced any problems in exercising control over the women in his two units. And that is how he got the job.

Many years later, now known by his honorary name Sun Tzu, he would put his experiences, observations, and theories from and about the battle field into writing in what is today known as “Krigets konst” (“The Art of War”) in the Western world. Across 383 maxims grouped into 13 chapters dealing with such things as planning and evaluating, cunning, terrain, manoeuvring, attack by fire, and the usage of spies, Sun Tzu shares his philosophy on how to command an army and lead it to victory.

Unlike many other texts from antiquity, Sun Tzu’s writing was never lost and rediscovered but seems to have been part of Chinese philosophy, military training, and history since its inception until today. This notwithstanding, the origins of the book and even the purported originator himself remain disputed. The name of Sun Wu does not show up in the historical record until at last 300 years after his assumed death and is conspicuously missing from a contemporary source, Zuo Zhuan, that lists the most influential civil servants of the realm, including military commanders, and ought to have included a person as illustrious as he is claimed to have been. Furthermore, the name Sun Tzu simply means ‘Master Sun’ in Mandarin and it appears that there was another member of the Sun family a few generations later, Sun Bin whose historicity can be unambiguously confirmed, and he went by the honorary name Sun Tzu as well. It could well be that the two were conflated over time.

Whoever took the time to write down their thoughts about warfare in the 5^th century BC, the effort was not in vain. Military commanders, but also rulers, business leaders, teachers, philosophers, and artists over the centuries have drawn inspiration from the wisdom contained therein. However, as history has shown, the structure of the book, although simple and translucent, does provoke some misunderstanding. As is far too common in the world, many readers have difficulties grasping a bigger picture if faced with a smorgasbord of easily digestible information nuggets. Consequently, it is easy to understand why some reviews point to one part of the book as the key, omitting another that some other review might in turn consider essential. After all, this is how most Christian fundamentalists read the Bible. One may see declarations such as ‘The Art of War is about deception’ or ‘the best way to win a battle is to make your troops desperate.’   

I do not by any means claim to understand “Krigets konst” better than anyone else, but as a person who has spent most of his professional life in management positions in one way or another, my observation is that the leitmotif throughout Sun Tzu’s notes is knowledge, preparation, and patience.

The knowledge about the soldiers. Knowledge about the enemy. Knowledge about the terrain. Knowledge about technology and weapons. This also includes the obstruction of the enemy’s knowledge which is where deception and spreading of false information comes into the picture.

“All warfare is based on deception”

“Though the enemy be stronger in numbers, we may prevent him from fighting. Scheme so as to discover his plans and the likelihood of their success. Rouse him, and learn the principle of his activity or inactivity.”

Preparation is about ensuring allegiance of the troops before marching out. Preparing exit routes and defence lines. Preparation of supply lines and marching paths. And preparation by acquiring knowledge.

“Knowing the place and the time of the coming battle, we may concentrate from the greatest distances in order to fight.”

“Now the general who wins a battle makes many calculations in his temple ere the battle is fought. The general who loses a battle makes but few calculations beforehand. Thus do many calculations lead to victory, and few calculations to defeat: how much more no calculation at all! It is by attention to this point that I can foresee who is likely to win or lose.”

Patience, to tie it all together, can be applied to taking the time to prepare properly and making sense of collected intelligence. Patience is not allowing oneself to be provoked.

“The good fighters of old first put themselves beyond the possibility of defeat, and then waited for an opportunity of defeating the enemy”

“He who exercises no forethought but makes light of his opponents is sure to be captured by them.”

Co-incidentally; knowledge, preparation, and patience also seem to align with the five traditional cardinal virtues in the Chinese culture which are benevolence, uprightness of mind, self-control, wisdom, and sincerity, which are values that Sun Tzu must have been intimately familiar with.

Lastly, a few notes on the translation. The first translation into French came as early as 1772 and is likely to have been read by Napoleon Bonaparte. However, not until the English translation by Lionel Giles in 1910 did the book gain global fame, which was further amplified by the success of Mao Zedong in defeating the nationalists and establishing the People’s Republic of China. Lionel Giles work has since become the benchmark for many other translations, including the one into Swedish that I have read. I find Bertil Häggman’s version from 1989 to be airy with a good flow, but I am particularly happy that the translation also includes Lionel Giles’ annotations which, although not always comprehensible, provide context and oftentimes detailed explanations of what it is we are reading. When it comes to reading antique Chinese texts on warfare, at least This Banker sometimes needs a helping hand to put the pieces together.

 

THE OLD MAN AND THE SEA

Author: Ernest Hemingway
Year: 1975 (1952)
Publisher: Stiftelsen Litteraturfrämjandet
Language: Swedish (translator unknown)

”A man can be destroyed, but not defeated” is one of the most well-known quotes from what is arguably Ernest Hemingway’s most prominent novel, “Den gamle och havet” (“The Old Man and the Sea”) from 1952. In his inimitable minimalistic writing style, Hemingway manages to encapsulate the whole message of the novel in one potent sentence.

SPOILER ALERT

“Den gamle och havet” is a story about Santiago, an old fisherman well past his prime who has had a streak of really rotten luck not having caught a single fish for eighty-four days. His misfortunes have become the talk of the town, and the parents of his young helper and apprentice have even taken the boy away from him and allocated him to a boat that has proved to be more successful in recent times. The boy, deeply loyal to his mentor, keeps visiting Santiago and run errands for him but he cannot act against the will of his parents and therefore cannot sail with his aged friend.

Santiago knows that the gossip around town is that he has been cursed and even that he is finished as a fisherman, but he does not pay much attention to it. He is too old and experienced to believe in such nonsense. After all, he has been through this before. Rather than praying to God or performing magical rituals, he relies on his knowledge, experience, and patience.

On the eighty-fourth day of fishing without catch, like all days before it, Santiago sails out onto the Sargasso Sea in his small fishing-boat. Reading the signs of the sea and the animal life in and above it, he soon picks up the trail of what should be an attractive prize. When the fish bites his hook, the fight is on. Hour after hour, day after night after day, Santiago struggles with the largest fish that he has ever encountered and when it finally breaks the surface of the sea, Santiago’s assumption that it must be an enormous marlin is confirmed. This monstrosity is even bigger than Santiago’s boat. After finally having killed it, he ties it to the side of his vessel and turns the bow toward Havana, which during the prolonged tussle has disappeared below the horizon.

Alas, to kill the marlin, Santiago has to drive his harpoon through it, spilling its blood into the ocean. An ocean rife with all types of sharks. Soon enough, the first sharks begin to attack the carcass and Santiago attempts to fight them off. He uses his harpoon to kill the first ones. When one of them disappears with it lodged to its dead body, he ties his knife to one of the oars and continues the fight. When the knife breaks, he proceeds to hitting the feeding sharks over their heads with the rudder. Shark after shark annihilated or chased away, but not before taking a chunk of the marlin with it. When Santiago finally reaches the shores of his fishing village, all that remains of the once mighty fish is the head, the tail, and the spine to hold them together, meticulously cleaned of all meat.

It takes a great writer to make a story about a fishing trip, albeit one involving a remarkable catch, thrilling, touching, and thought-provoking at the same time, and Hemingway does just that. The protagonist’s fight against the forces of nature but also his musings about life, death, love, fate, and the meaning of identity and personal integrity are all interwoven into the fabric of the story in a way that it never loses pace. The reader never gets the feeling that the author pauses the chain of events for philosophy. It is all embedded in the progress of the plot. This short, simple, and linear novel without any elaborate subplots, interpersonal drama, despicable villains, betrayal, misunderstandings, money, sex, or violence is consequently laden with symbols. It is the universe captured in the meeting between a modest man in a tiny skiff and a fish.

No matter how important our personal challenges seem to us, on the vast ocean of life they are but insignificant trifles. The ocean is too great to be aware of every single fish in it, no matter how big, or every single man in a dinghy on it, no matter how determined.

“The ocean is very big and a skiff is small and hard to see.”

Santiago did not blame bad luck for his poor performance. Nor did he blame God, the weather, the fish, his boat, or his equipment. He certainly did not blame himself. He was old enough to know that any fisherman sometimes goes through a bad patch. He did not give up. He set out to sea like he had done every single one of the days prior to this one.

His epic battle with the fish goes on for two days. The old man’s endurance, experience, attention, and ingenuity are put to the test as never before. He is old and not as agile as he used to be. And he is alone. This is his fight. To each and every one of us, to Santiago as well as everyone else, that struggle is essential not for survival alone, but for the definition of who we are. We are, Hemingway seems to say, defined by our actions and choices more than by their outcomes. To choose to continue to live is to choose to continue to choose.

“- They beat me Manolin, he said. They truly beat me.
- He didn't beat you. Not the fish.”

Santiago’s marlin would have brought him a small fortune if he had been able to haul it back in one piece to the market. But he ended up not receiving even a dime. The man is destroyed but not defeated.

We learn one more thing in the very end of the story. While Santiago is recovering after the ordeal, two groups of people notice the remains of the fish by his boat. The first are his peers in the village. Those who looking at the carcass are able to assess and appreciate the old man’s achievement. The other is a group of tourists who mistake the animal for a shark and shrug it off as a mere curiosity. How often do you allow tourists to determine the value of your accomplishments and to put you down by the force of their numbers and ignorant confidence?

It is no mystery why “Den gamle och havet” has become a classic not only in American but in world literature, and Hemingway’s Nobel Prize and widespread renown are, in my view, very well motivated.