Sometimes, there’s a man…. Sometimes, there’s a man, well, he’s the man for his time and place…
Sometimes there’s a book or a story or an article that comes along at just the right moment for you, the reader, and it hits a nerve or sparks something in your brain that triggers some kind of alternative, deeper thinking that you normally don’t get in your every day. (C’mon, I know it’s not just me.) Reading definitely provides me with an endorphin rush – happy little floaties coursing through my head – pretty much regardless of the content, (Well, JPatt excepted, of course) but sometimes it goes further than that, into something more, I don’t know, elemental, perhaps. For a variety of reasons, Gideon Lewis-Kraus’ debut work of nonfiction/memoir/travelogue, A Sense of Direction, was just the right book for me in this particular time and place.
In his late-20’s, Gideon found himself living a rather pointless, aimless life in Berlin, writing a bit and hanging out in the art scene there. (There’s a certain degree of privilege here, be forewarned – you don’t just breeze through Berlin, Spain, and Japan on typical 20-something bank accounts. I’m just sayin’.) At this stage in his life, he was feeling like he was constantly in a state of crisis – although, as a friend pointed out, most of us feel the same way:
Everybody is in a crisis all the time and everybody, at the same time, under some sort of cover, is also pretty much doing what they want. Life is the crisis of doing what you want.
So, on a whim – a drunken whim – his friend Tom Bissell invited him to go on a (relatively secular) walking pilgrimage – the Camino de Santiago de Compostela – across the whole of Spain. He decided to go because he both wanted to and had no reason not to, but also because he was not sure what he’d find along the way. Since it was a pilgrimage after all, he was perhaps expecting some kind of profound revelation about himself. (What he first discovered was that he liked pilgrimages.) But as he walked – and thought a lot about his own life – he gradually came to a better understanding of himself, how he deals with those around him, and how important the people he loves truly are to him. The result is an amazing book of self-discovery that will resonate for anyone (especially fellow Generation X-ers) who has ever felt adrift on the seas of life…
I know, I know, I usually hate it when someone tries to sell me on a memoiry, self-discovery-type book – and I’m sure that there will be detractors out there for whom this will not resonate in any meaningful way – but there was something about Gideon’s story that just hit me right. For one, he perfectly captured that feeling of aimlessness I’ve felt at various points in my own life – this is no feel-good, mid-life crisis story about finding love in Italy, blah blah blah. (In fact, Gary Shteyngart said, “If David Foster Wallace had written Eat, Pray, Love…”) It’s all about the, well, sense of mis-direction so many of us have had in our lives and the circuitous paths we often take to get around to the point of it all. Of the three pilgrimages he ultimately went on, Gideon summarized them as such:
The first was about finding a sense of direction. The second was about returning to where you started. The third would be about knowing where we stand.
|Restless & hopeful, GLK|
After the Camino, Gideon decided that he would attempt another walking pilgrimage on Shikoku, the smallest of Japan’s four major islands, that would take him to each of the 88 temples that ring the island’s coast. This walk he did on his own (for the most part) and it proved to be far more mentally taxing and ultimately introspective than the Camino, hence his assessment that it was “about returning to where you started.” Which for him was really about his complicated relationship with his gay rabbi father. (Not a typo or joke, that.) I’m sure that lots of us have complicated relationships with our respective pater familias, but very few can boast such complexities as that. I don’t think Gideon set out to write a book about his father – in fact, he has said that it was originally meant to be a travelogue of sorts – but much like going on a pilgrimage itself, there’s a process to everything. And the process of writing this book lead him to a better, healthier understanding of his own relationship with his dad.
So, I’m not saying that I relate to Gideon because we share gay, rabbinical fathers, but I did have a complex & often frustrating relationship with my late father. It’s good, in a way, to see that this is both common and could have actually be far worse. (I jest, folks.) And, not to mention, I pretty much floated through my 20’s, not really sure of where I was heading or what sort of “career path” I should have been on. (My travels brought me to New Orleans, a bookstore, and, ultimately, here to my life in SD, so, not too shabby.) The thing about Gideon’s story is that it is so very like many of the stories I’ve heard from people in my generation – we’ve all been squeezed into this life track of college, working, & ultimate ennui that many of us ended up just coasting along until we sort it out on our own, in one way or another. I don’t know what this says about us, but pretty soon we’re all going to be running the planet – if we aren’t already – so we’ve got that going for us.
Anyhow, this book hit me in a certain way – I don’t know if it will do the same for you, it’s not perfect, by any stretch, but then again, what story is? It didn’t change my life, but it did give me a little bit of perspective over my own travels. Which was nice.
Gideon’s interview on NPR’s Weekend Edition.
For more on the Camino, see Martin Sheen’s film The Way.
PS: thank The Stranger for that opening quote.