Rating: 9/10

It is the third book of Paul Bowles that I have read, after "Let It Come Down" which I read in 2011 and "A Hundred Camels in the Courtyard" which I read this March. It is the first one of his that I give five stars, as it really excited me. I remember that I bought the book from the market in 2012 (and if I didn't remember, there is also the relevant sticker with the price), but until now it was gathering dust in my library, although it had come very close to being started two or three times. But I decided to take it with me on my this year's summer vacations, as it is generally a travel book. And I'm really very glad that I did. Of course, the places I visited are miles away from the places where the story of the book takes place, and also my vacations were quite relaxed and relatively carefree, in contrast to the journey of the protagonists of the book, who felt for the good in their suitcase what is North Africa, having at the same time thousands of problems with their marriage. It is a very powerful, special and somewhat depressing novel, which keeps the reader's interest from beginning to end, thanks to the whole depth in the characters, the powerful descriptions of landscapes and situations, but also the可怕的 atmosphere. Bowles' writing is really excellent, penetrating and in places intense, managing to put the reader to sleep from the very first pages and transport him to other places and other times. I don't discuss it, it is one of the most powerful and well-written post-war novels of American literature that one must read. Very soon I will also watch the homonymous 1990 film, directed by Bernardo Bertolucci.

Spouses often find themselves growing distant from one another. They gradually cease to be the friends and lovers they once were. Along the way, they lose their way, yet are reluctant to admit it. Sometimes, they remain lost in this state; at other times, they attempt to seek out what they have lost. Whether it be love, closeness, or a sense of identity, it's difficult to determine. After ten years of marriage, Port and Kit Moresby have become estranged, and they are clueless as to what is keeping their relationship intact. Is it the constant reassurance that they are still in love, even though both are acutely aware of the distance between them? Port believes that traveling might bring them closer, despite his longing for freedom. Kit has no alternative but to follow him, not out of love but out of a fear of loneliness, ultimately making her an extremely weak character.

And so, Port and Kit embark on a journey as travelers, lost not only in their own lives but also in the harsh and unforgiving landscape of the African desert. The journey into the unknown becomes a means of escaping their own inner emptiness or perhaps a search for themselves. However, as they move further away from civilization, instead of finding what they seek, the distance between them continues to grow, and they become increasingly lost, both physically and psychologically. The harsh and unyielding Sahara serves as a powerful metaphor for the inner desolation of this American couple, reflecting their growing alienation.

Bowles' portrayal of the remote desert towns is so vivid that it seems almost palpable. The dirty streets, the prevalence of diseases, the presence of prostitutes, and the shady characters are all brought to life through his cold, detached, and hypnotic prose. The descriptions, which are both beautiful and terrifying, capture the brutality and majesty of the desert. Through the characters' inner monologues, we can sense their growing alienation and loss of control, further immersing us in the narrative.

The vastness of the Sahara is not merely an exotic backdrop but a force that disintegrates the human psyche, erases the boundaries of identity, and leads them towards inevitable ruin. While Port rushes towards a freedom that ultimately leads him into various troubles and eventually to a small room inside a French military fortress, Kit breaks down, trampling over all the declarations of love she once made, and surrenders to fate in a way that leaves the reader in utter horror.

The Sheltering Sky is a novel that not only elicits discomfort but also compels deep reflection. Bowles masterfully depicts the collapse of the human spirit in the face of the infinite desert, demonstrating that the real journey is not through the world but through one's own fragility. The novel also delves into the colonial relationship between the West and the East, highlighting the cultural gap.

Some readers may be deterred by the fact that nearly all the characters are unlikable and selfish. However, this is a deliberate choice by Bowles to emphasize the novel's themes of existential despair and the collapse of the human spirit. The characters' unlikability and selfishness serve to highlight the profound loneliness and alienation they experience. The final third of the book may seem slightly different from the first two, but upon closer examination, Kit remains the same from the beginning. She is unable to exist without someone, a manipulator who believes she can obtain what she desires through her beauty.

I have noticed several parallels to McEwan's The Comfort of Strangers, but this novel by Bowles is far more powerful than McEwan's, which seems to be merely trying to shock. Written under the influence of hashish, The Sheltering Sky is a disturbing and hypnotic story by Paul Bowles—his debut novel and a true masterpiece.

Reading good books has never been my thing. I'm overly sentimental.

A couple whose life is about to fall apart travels to Africa to seek excitement and the meaning of life. Originally, they already had heartaches as the original cost. But then they encounter a cruel fate and run wild in Africa again. Their lives are completely ruined and can no longer be the same. I just wonder if they could turn back time, would they still choose to seek meaning in Africa as before? In fact, their hearts must have been so twisted that they can't be cured anymore.

Actually, I don't really like the theme of traveling to find some meaning. Because real life has never felt that way. 5555

First published in 1949, The Sheltering Sky is an incredibly powerful and visceral novel.

It is set in the squalid towns and vast desert landscapes of North Africa during the years following the end of the Second World War. The narrative has a somewhat fractured feel, which effectively reflects the emotional state of its main protagonists, Port and Kit Moresby.

They are an American couple, similar to those found in F. Scott Fitzgerald’s fiction, especially Tender is the Night. The Moresbys are unmoored both physically and emotionally.

They are travelling south through North Africa with little purpose or ultimate destination in mind. After the war, they have eschewed America and Europe and come to Africa as an escape, hoping to find some kind of meaning in an ever-changing world.

Port views himself as an intrepid traveller, eager to explore the mysteries and remoteness of an unfamiliar land. He is perpetually restless, constantly searching for something, although it remains rather unclear what that something is.

Kit, on the other hand, is acutely aware of the emotional distance between herself and Port. Their marriage has crumbled to dust in the preceding years. Brittle and highly strung by nature, Kit lives a life governed by superstitions and a series of omens that dictate her mood and ability to function.

There are times when the feeling of doom surrounding Kit becomes so strong that it results in a form of stasis, almost as if she is experiencing a strange kind of paralysis.

To read the rest of my review, please visit: https://jacquiwine.wordpress.com/2019...

To be completely honest, I have a distinct preference for Jane Bowles’ more experimental approach.

I had anticipated something along the lines of a similarly “arty” piece, perhaps a bit naively. However, upon reflection, I realize that maybe I shouldn't have had such expectations.

The aspects that truly impressed me and left a lasting impact were the opening paragraphs. They were like a window into a world of confusion and introspection.

These moments, which could be described as “interior,” were both captivating and thought-provoking. They made me question my own perceptions and emotions, and invited me to explore the deeper recesses of the human psyche.

Overall, while my initial expectations may not have been fully met, I still found great value in the work, particularly in those powerful and evocative “interior” moments.

I think I have a reasonable amount of time separating me from September of last year when I read this book for a second time. My wife and I were on a 10-day trip to Morocco. I suggested that we read The Sheltering Sky in tandem. Bowles' tale of existential dread and Western culture collision with the desert and denizens of North Africa was supposed to be a fictional journey to parallel our actual one. But it wasn't.

Bowles' now relatively famous distinction between a traveler and a tourist is an artifice. It is part of the genius of this novel. The reader takes Bowles' position on traveler/tourist and then watches to see how the three American characters behave according to Bowles' rules, all the while reflecting on how differently I would behave. Another important difference between tourist and traveler is that the former accepts his own civilization without question; not so the traveler, who compares it with the others, and rejects those elements he finds not to his liking. How quaint a notion, offered so early in the novel. Read to see how American civilization frays at the edges beneath that sheltering sky; watch what happens when the so-called “traveler” rejects elements not to his liking.

We finished reading the novel and discussed it over dinner. The next morning we would leave for three days in the Atlas mountains with the Berbers. Our conversation weaved between our thoughts on Kit, Moresby and Tunner and our excitement of the impending unknown spending time with another culture, completely off the grid and out of our comfort zone. However, life held a different plan for us. The next morning, we were frantically trying to find a western hospital due to a medical emergency that was no joke. Within minutes, our Western Bubble was pierced. We were no longer in the beautiful hotel with room service and candlelight dinners. We were in a taxi with a driver that spoke no English, rushing to a Marrakesh hospital in a place no tourist nor traveler would ever choose to be. This day also happened to be the Eid al-Fitr celebration, so the hospital had minimum staff and a waiting room filled to capacity. Nobody spoke English, and my monoglotism shamed me yet again. My wife needed immediate medical attention. French and Arabic were only spoken at the intake desk, and all these Marrakeshians also trying to get admittance were looking at me like I'm from another planet. I was losing my patience, I was frightened. I realized that in that moment, there was nothing that any part of my Western civilization could offer me to help. I was experiencing a brutal intersection with Bowles' narrative. I was the clueless American in North Africa. The fifty-year span between Bowles' characters and me might as well have been the same day experience. For I had done as Kit did, attempting to build a pathetic little fortress of Western culture in the middle of the wilderness.

Moresby asks himself if any American can truthfully accept a definition of life which makes it synonymous with suffering. I don't know whether to call myself a traveler or a tourist. But as I continue to visit other places on the planet and meet people from other cultures, I attempt to brook my life filters to learn from them. I don't know suffering, not the way that most people that have lived – are living – have. The Sheltering Sky is a fine introduction to the beginning of that conversation, especially for Americans that travel.

Kit mentions in Book Three that someone once told her that the sky hides the night behind it, that it shelters the person beneath from the horror that lies above.

What is going to shelter us from everything beneath the sky?

The psychologically acute Bowles meets the romantic exotic Bowles in the sands of North Africa.

This encounter is like a collision of two distinct worlds. The psychologically acute Bowles is sharp and perceptive, always analyzing and understanding the inner workings of the human mind. On the other hand, the romantic exotic Bowles is filled with a sense of adventure and a love for the extraordinary.

In the vast and mysterious sands of North Africa, these two Bowleses come together. The heat of the desert seems to intensify their emotions and desires. They explore the ancient cities, soak in the local culture, and are both captivated and challenged by the new experiences.

As they spend time together, they begin to discover the depth and complexity of each other. The psychologically acute Bowles helps the romantic exotic Bowles to understand the consequences of his actions, while the romantic exotic Bowles brings a sense of excitement and spontaneity to the life of the psychologically acute Bowles.

This meeting in the sands of North Africa becomes a turning point for both of them, forever changing their perspectives and relationships.

Jane Bowles, Paul Bowles’ wife, used to affectionately call him “Gloompot” among other things. I often wonder how she arrived at that nickname as he seemed to be such a cheerful and jovial guy.

“The Sheltering Sky” is a captivating story of two, sometimes three, American drifters who consider themselves “travellers” rather than primitive tourists. They embark on a journey in North Africa in search of something – perhaps themselves or the meaning of life. However, they ultimately end up losing themselves completely as they fail to realize that they are simply a sum of social conventions, beliefs, and rituals. Once the sun dries up these constructs, all of it flakes away and “the sheltering sky” can no longer shield them from the emptiness within.

The main couple, Port and Kit, in their sexless yet not entirely loveless marriage, bear some resemblance to Paul and Jane’s unorthodox relationship. They only experimented with sex for about 1.5 years, after which she turned to sleeping with women and he mostly with men, but they remained deeply devoted to each other. Of course, Paul Bowles knew the Sahara intimately as he lived in its vicinity for most of his life and infused his characters with a longing for the desert. Personally, the endless sandy dunes have never held much appeal for me, but reading this exquisitely written book almost convinced me that there is some value in the solitude of the Sahara.

Like the characters in the meta-story ‘Tea in Sahara’ told to Port by a prostitute, Kit and Port continuously search for some elusive thing, that unspecified perfection that might lie beyond the next dune. What truly drives Port forward is the fact that he finds himself in a state of constant psychological discomfort wherever he is, so he attempts to outrun himself. Kit, on the other hand, tags along, hunted and haunted by bad omens that she perceives everywhere, and it’s clear that she is on the verge of losing it.

As I mentioned earlier, the writing is generally beautiful, and the characterization is also excellent. However, that doesn’t mean Bowles isn’t occasionally prone to bombastic, existentialist phrases such as “humanity is everyone but yourself” or something similar. I haven’t noted the exact quote, but I do have a soft spot for such borderline pretentious existentialism. Additionally, Bowles is skilled at pacing. He was a composer first, and the pacing of this book reminds me of a classical piece that begins lazily and gently, becomes a little intense in the middle, and concludes with a chaotic cacophony.

I liked this book much better than any Hemingway I’ve read, but I understand that it may not be to everyone’s taste. If the book isn’t for everyone, the moral of it is: get your travel vaccinations, kids. It might be that the entire cohesion of your being depends on it.

The story kicks off with a young married couple and an alluring male companion, engaging in an adventurous tryst in Northern Africa.

Oh, how exciting. How extremely exciting. The starry skies, the soft undulations of the sensuous desert in the background.

Within just a few pages, I had already envisioned the movie. My film adaptation of this story was going to feature Ralph Fiennes as the English Patient, Joseph Fiennes as Shakespeare, and, of course, me. I had already decided that if one of the Fiennes brothers wasn't available, Colin Firth as Darcy or Viggo Mortensen as Aragorn would make suitable replacements. Even better, let's just incorporate them into the plot.

However, even though this story is set in French Africa and there is a wonderful French word to describe these complex gatherings of three, I seem to have landed myself in potential trouble with my husband over nothing in this review. Absolutely nothing.

Because there is nothing exciting happening here at all!

And not only is there nothing exciting going on, but a whole lot of sinister stuff is happening as well.

Sinister... and sick... and stressful, oh so very stressful.

And what else? Let's see... a potentially incestuous, criminal mother-son duo. Lice, bedbugs, thieves. A writer who refers to all women in his story as "girls," and characters who I truly despise.

Let me repeat that last part. Characters who I truly despise. Characters who speak like this:

Wife: What's the unit of exchange in this different world of yours?

Husband: The tear.

Wife: It isn't fair, some people have to work very hard for a tear! Others can have them just for the thinking.

Husband: What system of exchange is fair?... You think the quantity of pleasure, the degree of suffering is constant among all men? It somehow all comes out in the end? You think that? If it comes out even, it's only because the final sum is zero.

Oh, boohoo, boohoo. You poor little darlings. You poor, spoiled little darlings. I couldn't bear the husband's unrelenting fear of death and his penchant for whining, nor the wife's lack of vitality or passion for anything.

These characters are so incredibly spoiled, so quintessentially the "ugly Americans," that they can't even see beyond their own noses that they lead the most enchanting and fantastical lives. As a reader, it's difficult to empathize with or relate to any of them, especially when they feel put out whenever their cocktails arrive without ice (ahem, in the desert).

I swear to you... I hated every single character in this book. Mon dieu! I HATED them all. I wanted each and every one of them to meet a slow and painful end out on the white sand and then have their eyes picked clean by vultures. I also did not enjoy reading this. It was not a pleasurable experience for me.

So, why would I give it five stars?

Because, quite frankly, the writing is FANTASTIC.

He did not look up

because he was fully aware of how meaningless the landscape would seem. Injecting meaning into life requires energy, and at this moment, such energy was in short supply. He knew how things could appear barren, their essence having withdrawn to the far side of the horizon, as if pushed by a menacing centrifugal force. He had no desire to confront the overly intense sky above his head, which was so blue that it seemed unreal, the ribbed pink canyon walls that lay in the distance on all sides, the pyramidal town perched on its rocks, or the dark spots of the oasis below. They were there, and按理说 they should have delighted his eyes, but he simply did not have the strength to connect them, either to one another or to himself. He could not bring them into any focus beyond the merely visual. So, resolutely, he chose not to look at them.

***

The landscape was there, and more than ever, he felt a sense of impotence in reaching it. The rocks and the sky were omnipresent, seemingly ready to offer him absolution, but as always, the obstacle resided within him. He might have said that as he gazed at them, the rocks and the sky ceased to be what they truly were. In the very act of entering his consciousness, they became tainted. It was only a small consolation to be able to tell himself: "I am stronger than they." As he turned back into the room, something bright caught his eye, leading him to the mirror on the open door of the wardrobe. It was the new moon shining in through the other window. He sat down on the bed and began to laugh.

***

She looked out at the windswept emptiness. The new moon had vanished behind the sharp edge of the earth. Here in the desert, even more so than at sea, she had the impression that she was on the summit of a colossal table, with the horizon marking the brink of space. She imagined a cube-shaped planet somewhere above the earth,介于 it and the moon, to which they had somehow been transported. The light would be as harsh and unreal as it was here, the air would possess the same taut dryness, and the contours of the landscape would lack the comforting curves of the terrestrial world, just as they did throughout this vast region. And the silence would be of the utmost degree, leaving room only for the sound of the air as it rushed past. She touched the windowpane; it was bitterly cold. The bus jolted and swayed as it continued its upward journey across the plateau.

*

Before her eyes was the brutally blue sky - nothing else. For an interminable moment, she stared into it. Like a powerful and overwhelming sound, it obliterated everything in her mind, paralyzing her. Someone had once told her that the sky conceals the night behind it, shielding the person beneath from the horror that lies above. Unblinking, she fixed her gaze on the solid emptiness, and the anguish began to stir within her. At any moment, the tear could occur, the edges could fly back, and the giant maw would be revealed.

Meh.

For all the years that I’ve been pondering this book and fixating on certain aspects of the movie, I discovered the actual text to be underwhelming and confusing.

I fail to understand why people would conduct themselves in such a manner – particularly the relationship between Port and Kit. Moreover, I don't feel that I received sufficient information to truly grasp it.

Bowles unleashes Pandora's box at the conclusion when Kit experiences a psychotic breakdown, which he presents as a series of inexplicable decisions made through pain and terror. If he truly intended to take me there, I wish he had written more explicitly about a mental breakdown. As it stands, it seems as if she is a person I don't comprehend and would never be. Bowles claims to make her into an object, but if that's the case, I don't know the reason why, and I don't believe it's effective.

He crafted a number of diverse relationships to handle – Port/Kit, Kit/Tunner, Port/Tunner – all of them interacting at various times with the sleazy mother/son duo and against/with/for the native country of Africa. No one behaves consistently, and they all think in ways we never learn about, which leads them to strange and unidentifiable actions.

I believe there is a good story within these pages, but this isn't a great book. Perhaps the fact that the critics regarded it as "deep," "profound," and "a meditation" prevented Bowles from actually rewriting it with an emphasis on the characters.

He does a good job of描绘 the character of Africa as a foreign and unknowable entity with ways and means beyond our understanding, but he doesn't fare well with the people unless they are on the sidelines. The mother and son are the most interesting and well-developed characters who act like recognizable individuals.

The Only Book that Overwhelmingly Entranced Me

“How fragile we are under the sheltering sky. Behind [it] is a vast dark universe, and we're just so small.”

I was truly and deeply hypnotized by Paul Bowles' The Sheltering Sky. This is a lush and lyrical novel that follows a married couple and their male friend. They claim to be "travelers," not "tourists," as they wander aimlessly through the desolation and harshness of the cities and deserts of North Africa shortly after WW II. The story is not only about their physical journey but also their emotional and psychological exploration.

Within the novel, there is an affecting allegorical tale of 3 sisters who waited for a prince to join them for tea in the Sahara. This meta-tale has inspired numerous artworks, such as the song "Tea in the Sahara" by The Police. The tale concludes with a rather poignant image: many days later, another caravan finds the girls lying on the highest dune, with their glasses full of sand. It's a beautiful and tragic ending that leaves a lasting impression.

On February 14, 2021, I am about to read this novel again solely for the hypnotic journey. Seriously. It's that good. The Sheltering Sky is the apotheosis of hypnotic transference, through its poetic language that is so puissant, transporting the reader into a strange and foreign destination, full of utter alienation but not without hope. It's a book that makes you think, feel, and experience a world that is both familiar and unknown.