This one reminds me a great deal of both Greene and Maugham.

The travelers in The Sheltering Sky are indeed highly experienced. They are dedicated to truly getting to know a place, and are hell-bent (quite literally) on obtaining the full experience of living rather than simply touring. The swagger and confidence they possess, the sense of invincibility they feel, and their sense of entitlement ultimately end up destroying them all in various ways.

Bowles does an outstanding job of vividly describing the landscape (sub-Saharan Africa after WWII), the illness of one of his characters, the desires of another, and the jadedness, panic, and eventual loss of all identity of a third.

I've heard it asserted that The Sheltering Sky is less about foreigners in a foreign country and more about the natives of that foreign country. I'm not entirely certain I concur with this view, but there is definitely something that distinguishes it from novels such as The Sun Also Rises. I believe The Sheltering Sky is also an incredible psychological achievement and an amazing character study (or perhaps they are caricatures? I don't think so; they are far more than that, but a case could be made - in fact, has been made by a friend who didn't enjoy the novel).

Ultimately, the book left me with an incredibly hollow sensation, a profound sadness that lingered with me for several days. This might sound like an unpleasant side effect to some individuals, but when a book has the ability to affect me to such an extent, I can't help but regard it as being great.

Please provide the article that needs to be rewritten and expanded so that I can help you.

No matter how hard you might strive to focus your gaze on horror, you will never draw as near to its essence as you can with this novel. This is one of those literary gems that is simply goddamn excellent, and you can't even begin to explain why. Every element within it is exquisitely horrific, bleak, and yet, in the end, deeply satisfying, as if self-destruction is the only genuine resolution. I view this work as a powerful argument against philosophical posturing - how the deceptions of the mind and the blindness to the world can lead an individual down a path of absolute evisceration.

On the surface, it is the tale of three young, wealthy Americans journeying in North Africa shortly after World War II. However, beneath the surface, it is a terrifying condemnation of the unyielding soul and the punishments it has accumulated.

This is truly one of my all-time favorite books.

This book was slow to charm me, but as I turned the pages, I couldn't put it down anymore. The second half of it is a real gem.

Paul Bowles' writing is as lyrical as it should be, very claustrophobic, and at times hypnotic. It has the same effect on the reader as the desert itself. At first, you believe that where you are, all the problems of the Western world disappear among the grains of sand. However, as time passes, you realize that the desert suffocates you within it, and you don't understand how the day passes and the night comes.

I was lucky enough to travel for 11 hours in the Sahara to reach an oasis, and Bowles' description of when the protagonists first glimpse the oasis couldn't be more accurate.

The book has many secondary interpretations and poses multiple philosophical questions, both from the protagonists themselves and from the Arabs described. However, it never ceases to be the Western perspective on North Africa and the people there. Nevertheless, these are thoughts that I also had personally at times during my trip to Egypt, so I felt a great connection.

In the end, no matter how big your problems are, under the burning sun of the Sahara, with a cup of hot tea, your perspective on life changes.

P.S. I really want to see the movie after this reading!

"He did not think of himself as a tourist; he was a traveler. The difference is partly one of time, he would explain. Whereas a tourist generally hurries back home at the end of a few weeks or months, the traveler, belonging no more to one place than to the next, moves slowly, over periods of years, from one part of the earth to another."

“Death is always on the way, but the fact that you don’t know when it will arrive seems to take away from the finiteness of life. It’s that terrible precision that we hate so much. But because we don’t know, we get to think of life as an inexhaustible well. Yet everything happens only a certain number of times, and a very small number, really. How many more times will you remember a certain afternoon of your childhood, some afternoon that’s so deeply a part of your being that you can’t even conceive of your life without it? Perhaps four or five times more. Perhaps not even that. How many more times will you watch the full moon rise? Perhaps twenty. And yet it all seems limitless.”

The Sheltering Sky is an ambitious novel that delves deep into the themes of alienation, isolation, and despair.

The story centers around Port Moresby, who, disillusioned by WWII, turns his back on America and Europe. He departs from NY for Africa with his wife Kit and an acquaintance Tunner, whom they both despise.

Port believes Africa is less scarred by war and hopes to spend an extended period there. It's not that he expects to fit in; rather, he simply wants to escape or vanish. He may attempt to flee his inner emptiness, but unfortunately, it clings to him like a persistent traveling companion.

While his resentment towards his culture drives him abroad, removing the external irritations he might have found in New York, the desert forces him to confront his own inner void. Port seems to take pleasure in wallowing in this emptiness, dragging his wife along with him. Kit, despite her unhappiness, remains devoted to Port, bending to his will, biting her tongue, and packing her bags to follow him.

Aside from facing the reflection of one's inner desolation in the landscape, one can't help but wonder what Africa holds for them. Port, Kit, and Tunner mostly encounter squalor - ferocious flies, pink hairless dogs, wailing babies covered in sores, garbage in hotels, and cafés that reek of urine.

However, Port couldn't care less about sightseeing or the star rating of a hotel. He considers himself a "traveller," not a "tourist." And he is the driving force behind the entire unfortunate story, although he does manage to leave midway through the book.

At the end of Book 1, Port visits a teahouse where he becomes infatuated with a blind prostitute/dancer. Her expressionless face while dancing seems to convey to him, "A dance is being done. I do not dance because I am not here. But it is my dance." This peace is precisely what Port desires. He is also attracted to this particular dancer because her blindness means she cannot see him, effectively erasing him.

From there, things only go downhill.

In general, I found the writing of The Sheltering Sky to be good, and the themes were interesting and significant, aligning with my personal interests. However, the offensive portrayal of Kit as a woman pushed my feminist button so hard that it still hasn't popped back out.

First of all, I'm aware that the book was written in the late 1940s, but the use of the word "girl" to describe Kit immediately grated on me. I could have attributed it to the times and brushed it off. Even her attachment to clothes and wearing lipstick didn't strike me as unrealistic.

But then comes the SPOILER. When Port dies, Kit's "sheltering sky" collapses, and she is left to confront herself in her purest and most unmitigated form. Again, I might have been inclined to view this as an existential story if it weren't for what Kit turns out to be.

I found it难以接受 that after Port's death, she flags down a caravan to save her and then goes on to enjoy being raped by two men, soon becoming a contented sex slave to one of them. Briefly coming to her senses, she manages to escape that fate only to have sex with the next available guy.

I dislike the message here - that of a woman as a neurotic, male-defined nymphomaniac. The double standard throughout the book, such as when Port is outraged after suspecting Kit slept with Tunner despite having slept with a prostitute himself, also bothered me. I could go on and on about this, but suffice it to say that as a woman, I was offended.

Oh man oh man. Someday I will have to revisit this remarkable piece of literature, as I seem to mention it to anyone or anything who is willing to listen. It has probably become my favorite book of all time.

Simultaneously, it captures the utter loneliness of existence and the strange beauty of the desert and/or the foreign. It has such a profound impact that it makes me want to travel, to explore those unknown places, and yet, at the same time, it makes me want to stay home and hide under the covers. It's that good.

I've read almost all of Bowles' other works, and some of them come close to this one, especially "Let it Come Down". However, what comes off as simply cruel in the other works here becomes sublime.

I remember someone reminding me that Bowles started out as a composer, and it really shows in his writing. Everything is carefully considered and in its right place on the page, creating credible characters and situations. I can't think of any other writer aside from Henry James who can capture the strange feeling of being an American in a foreign land.

I'm going to have to read it again this summer.

As of October 08, I read it again recently. Time does strange things to one's reviews.

So the Paul Bowles character (the man - I don't remember his name now) is really annoying and deserves what he gets. The Jane character, however, it really is all about her and what she does. What my 20-something brain latched onto and what my 30-something brain latches onto are two totally different things. It's all about Kit: Kit's assimilation (or lack thereof), Kit's hopes, fears, desires to change, to metamorphose. The other characters are just vehicles and supports to get her to that last page. Everything else falls away. The husband's wanderings, his pontifications - they are just blather. I am with Kit now.

IL CIELO CHE PROTEGGE

I watched Bertolucci's newly released film without having read the book, and I didn't appreciate it much at all. Today, with a very different life and cultural baggage, the film + book combination has left its mark.

Kit is a writer, and Port is a composer. They have been married for 10 years. Tuner is their fascinating friend. All three are still relatively young. When you're young, you believe that the time given to you is infinite. And the idea that, on the contrary, it is limited doesn't even cross your mind.

They are wealthy Americans, a bit bored with life, in search of "other" places, different cultures, new stimuli, and a pulsating life.

The love between Kit and Port is at a standstill. There is no longer any harmony or communication, and the same goes for sex. They cheat on each other.

They land in Tangier and, by train and bus, will venture deeper and deeper into the interior, towards the Saharan desert.

Kit and Port will rediscover their love, but it is only for a moment and it is too late. The vastness of the desert, its blinding light, its solitude, crush everything.

It wasn't a camel ride on the edges of extremely high dunes, in the light of dawn and dusk, to the hypnotic sound of tribal drums, in the arms of a beautiful Tuareg that Kit and Port were truly seeking.


Debra Winger as Kit and John Malkovich as Port in Bertolucci's film

They sat next to each other on the rock, contemplating the vastness below. Kit slipped her arm into Port's and rested her head on his shoulder. Port simply stared straight ahead, then sighed, and finally slowly shook his head. It was places like that, moments like those, that he loved more than anything else in life; Kit knew that, and she also knew that he loved them even more if she was present, experiencing them with him.

Debra Winger as Kit in the desert with the Tuareg

Someone had once told her that the sky hides the night behind it, protecting the person below from the horror that reigns above.

Paul Bowles appears a couple of times in the film as a narrator. His is the final monologue, a quote from the book.

“Death is always on the move, but the fact that you don't know when it will arrive seems to take away the importance of the fact that life is limited. It's precisely that terrible inevitability that we hate so much. But, since we don't know, we end up thinking of life as an inexhaustible well. And yet everything happens only a certain number of times, and a very small number, in fact. How many more times will you remember a certain afternoon of your childhood, some afternoon that is so deeply a part of your being that you can't even conceive of your life without those hours? Maybe four or five more times. Maybe not even that. How many more times will you watch the full moon rise? Maybe twenty. And yet everything seems limitless”.

The story of Kit and Port is a poignant exploration of love, loss, and the search for meaning in a vast and often unforgiving world. The desert serves as a powerful backdrop, highlighting the insignificance of human existence and the fleeting nature of our experiences. As we follow their journey, we are reminded of the importance of珍惜 every moment and the consequences of taking our relationships and our lives for granted. The film and the book both offer a profound meditation on the human condition, leaving us with much to思考 and reflect upon.

Perhaps one of the most striking aspects of the story is the way in which Kit and Port's relationship deteriorates over time. Despite their initial love and connection, they find themselves growing apart, unable to communicate or connect on a deeper level. This is a common theme in many relationships, and it serves as a reminder that love requires effort and commitment to survive.

The character of Tuner also adds an interesting dimension to the story. His charm and charisma draw Kit and Port towards him, but his actions ultimately lead to their downfall. This highlights the importance of choosing our friends wisely and being aware of the influence they can have on our lives.

In conclusion, "IL CIELO CHE PROTEGGE" is a powerful and thought-provoking work that explores some of the most fundamental aspects of the human experience. Whether through the medium of film or literature, it has the ability to touch our hearts and minds and leave a lasting impression. I would highly recommend it to anyone looking for a deep and meaningful story that will make them思考 about their own lives and relationships.

Paul Bowles' Sheltering Sky

Paul Bowles (1910 -- 1999) was an American outsider. He initially achieved success as a composer but in 1949 left the US for Tangiers and embarked on a writing career. Bowles remained an expatriate for the rest of his long life, partly due to his unusual sexual lifestyle. Soon after, in 1949, he published his first novel, "The Sheltering Sky", which became a financial and critical success. Bernardo Bertolucci made a film of it in 1990. I first read the book in 2005 and loved it, even though I missed a lot. It's a book that rewards multiple rereadings.

Bowles' novel is influenced by various elements such as existentialism, Fitzgerald, Conrad, and Malcolm Lowry. It also shows the impact of American popular culture and its depictions of the exoticism of Arabia. However, the character of this bleak novel is unique.

Set in French North Africa after WW II, the novel follows an American couple, Port(er) and Kit Moresby, who travel there without fully understanding why. They are New York intellectuals and, inexplicably, bring a slightly younger man, Tunner, a journalist, as a traveling companion. Port and Kit hope to revive their passionless and troubled marriage.

As the story progresses, Port and Kit move from one small desert town to others, which become progressively shabbier and more threatening. Their behavior also becomes increasingly self-destructive. The couple is lost, alienated, and alone in a hostile environment they don't understand.

The book is written tightly and densely. Many scenes are small, closely developed vignettes. The plot is central, but the setting and atmosphere are equally important. It includes long descriptive passages of the desert, its small towns, shabby hotels, buses, brothels, and markets. The primary characters are only elliptically and partially developed to focus on fate and the enveloping deterioration. However, many characters are vividly portrayed, such as the Lyles, an odious English couple, two French Army officers, a member of the American consulate, and a small Jewish merchant, Davoud Zoozeph, who may be the only sympathetic character in the novel. The Sahara Desert, its environs, and the brooding sky are the chief protagonists in the book.

The book is a blend of exoticism and philosophy. It develops slowly and requires careful reading. In an early review, Bowles' friend Tennessee Williams described it as "An Allegory of Man and his Sahara." Williams wrote, "There is a curiously double level to this novel. The surface is enthralling as narrative. It is impressive as writing. But above that surface is the aura that I spoke of, intangible and powerful, bringing to mind one of those clouds that you have seen in summer, close to the horizon and dark in color and now and then silently pulsing with interior flashes of fire. And that is the surface of the novel that has filled me with such excitement."

Director Bernardo Bertolucci described the novel as "full of poison on every page," while other critics have appropriately seen the description of the desert as "alien but also spiritual" and the actions of the characters as "shocking" and "self-destructive." "The Sheltering Sky" is a remarkable, brooding novel that has grown on me over the years and with a second reading.

Robin Friedman

A truly remarkable and captivating piece of literature, this story takes us on a journey filled with both terror and beauty. The vivid descriptions of the brutal clash of cultures and the existential search within oneself create a sense of unease and fascination. The characters, Port and Kit, are complex and flawed, yet their relationship draws us in. We witness their struggles, their hopes, and their ultimate downfall. The quotes scattered throughout the text add depth and meaning, making us question our own beliefs and desires. It is a powerful reminder that we are not always in control of our lives, that sometimes the things we seek are just out of reach. And yet, we continue to strive, to hope, and to believe. This is a story that will stay with you long after you have turned the last page.

  “Alguien le había dicho alguna vez que el cielo esconde detrás la noche; que protege al que está debajo del horror de lo que hay arriba.

— ¿De lo que hay detrás?

— Sí.

— ¿Pero qué hay detrás? —preguntó Kit con un hilo de voz.

— Nada, supongo. Solamente oscuridad. La noche absoluta.”

The idea that the sky hides something terrifying behind the night is both chilling and thought-provoking. It makes us wonder what lies beyond our perception, what horrors might be lurking in the darkness. Kit's question, asked with a thread of voice, shows her vulnerability and her curiosity. And the answer, "nothing, I suppose. Only darkness. Absolute night," leaves us with a sense of emptiness and foreboding.

  “Creo que los dos tenemos miedo de lo mismo. Y por una misma razón. Nunca hemos conseguido, ninguno de los dos, entrar en la vida. Estamos colgando del lado de afuera, por mucho que hagamos, convencidos de que nos vamos a caer en el próximo tumbo.”

Port and Kit's fear of not truly living is a common theme in many works of literature. It speaks to our own insecurities and our longing for something more. We often feel like we are on the outside looking in, afraid to take risks and fully embrace life. This quote reminds us that we need to break free from our fears and take that leap of faith, even if it means falling.

  “… a pesar de estar dispuesta a llegar a ser lo que él quisiera, había algo que Kit no podía cambiar: el terror estaba siempre dentro de ella, dispuesto a asumir el mando. Era inútil pretender lo contrario. Y así como ella era incapaz de sacudirse el miedo de encima, él era incapaz de romper la jaula que había construido mucho tiempo atrás para salvarse del amor.”

Kit's inability to overcome her inner terror and Port's self-imposed prison of fear are both tragic. We see how their past experiences have shaped them and how they are now trapped in a cycle of pain and avoidance. This quote also highlights the importance of facing our fears and learning to love, even when it seems impossible.

   “Aunque esa glacial ausencia de vida era la base de su infelicidad, se aferraría siempre a ella porque era también el centro mismo de su ser, en torno al cual se había construido.”

The idea that we can become attached to our own unhappiness is a powerful one. It shows how deeply ingrained our emotions and beliefs can be. Even though this "glacial absence of life" is the source of their misery, Port and Kit hold onto it because it is a part of who they are. This quote makes us question whether we are also holding onto things that are holding us back from true happiness.

   “Cuando él subía los peldaños del estrado, abría las cortinas, entraba y se recostaba a su lado para iniciar el lento ritual de desvestirla, las horas que había pasado sin hacer nada cobraban todo su significado. Y cuando él se iba, el delicioso estado de agotamiento y plenitud le duraba mucho tiempo: permanecía despierta, bañada en un aura de felicidad despreocupada, estado que rápidamente llegó a considerar natural y que, como una droga, se le volvió indispensable.”

This final quote is both disturbing and fascinating. It shows how Kit has become addicted to a certain kind of pleasure, one that is born out of emptiness and despair. The idea that she finds meaning in these moments of physical intimacy, even though they are ultimately unfulfilling, is a powerful commentary on the human condition. It makes us wonder what we are truly seeking in life and whether we are willing to face the consequences of our actions.

It seems that any attempt to review this masterpiece (by the way, surrounded by awards!) alters it. Even through the lines below.

A respectable chronicle of Bowles' novel should fulfill the impossible mission of rising to the level of his writing. What works in the case of other books, the play of hermeneutics, does not work so easily here.

I tried again, 12 years ago, to write about "Tea in the Sahara" and it was a shameful fiasco.

The most acceptable "review" of this book consists of the tribulations of the soul (and of your thoughts) when reading it. The most precious tribute paid to Bowles' pages is the abandonment into the arms of reading.

Never, I believe, has sensuality reached such "clinical" dimensions as in Paul Bowles. Sensuality bordering on horror.

The translation by Alex. Leo Șerban - warm, involved, delicate - the effort of someone who has fallen hopelessly in love with the author and, implicitly, with this unique creation.

The Port & Kit Moresby couple: two solitaires who - perhaps once - thought they were compatible, embark on what we guess is "a new impossible journey", with a hope a little bit oppressed, a little bit burdened, that this last journey could become a new "reality" for them.

Both hoping more or less vaguely - captives in an inert waiting, never taking their gestures of approach to the end - that geography, the landscape, the novelty of the hostile environment to which they abandon themselves with a hysterical self-destructive voluptuousness will save them, bring them back together and, in parallel (or, perhaps, first and foremost), help each of them to find their lost selves.

However, happiness (or, at least, salvation) - if it truly existed - was always elsewhere; an untouchable mirage.

The thing is as follows: if you wait passively, endlessly, for the most opportune moment to go and drink your tea in the Sahara, you risk remaining frozen in the project: always longing, always sad, never getting to drink the tea in the Sahara. So, what do you do? - You give up all the false pretexts that have been sabotaging you until recently, put aside all the excuses that fed your laziness and you get up, starting, even without a penny, if necessary, towards that tea (your tea) that is waiting for you undoubtedly in an improbable place in the desert.

If you postpone your journey for too long, you will have to be content - in the end - with a cup of tea full of sand, which will remain there untouched, yet so close to you...

This is not a novel of love or about love, but one - if you want - about the meaning of life. More precisely, about the lack of meaning of existence - its absurdity, "the impossibility of being", to quote, snobbishly, a phrase from Cioran, after all.

This is a novel that I have wanted to read for many years. After seeing Bertolucci's adaptation, which really impressed me at that time. The thing is, so many years have passed that I remembered little or nothing of the plot. So the experience of reading it was quite new.

It is a psychological novel, narrated in the third person by an omniscient narrator who delves into the deepest layers of the thoughts and actions of its protagonists. What's the story? Three Americans travel to North Africa, Algeria and Sudan, where they will be questioned by the contrast of that allegorical, exotic, extreme, over-vivified outer world and their inner world and their own conflicts, as well as the relationships between the three. Two of them, Port and Kit, are married, and the third, Tunner, a friend of both, is a kind of the third in discord, although not really. In fact, he is a kind of catalyst between the couple that will make everything change inside and out.

This is a novel of detailed and meticulous descriptions of scenes, actions and thoughts, also dialogued, which thus manages to build an atmosphere between savagely beautiful and at the same time disturbing, which attempts to transcribe the experience of the interpenetration of a Westerner of the first world with what in his eyes is exotic and foreign. There is a subtle but constant relationship with "the other" marked by idiosyncrasies and beliefs based on the supremacy of the white, and the social structures established by colonialism. This, which works quite well in the first two parts of the novel, weakens in the last part, in which an attempt is made to give a kind of protagonism to a Sudanese native (always in dramatic dependence on one of the protagonists, in this case the woman, Kit). In my opinion, this is not well achieved, as it becomes a degraded caricature of a stereotype. Although what happens could be that it could happen in reality, the fact is that the Western enunciation place does not manage to deepen into that culture and ends up being a prejudicial portrait. Even the narrative ending turns out to be gratuitous in this part. On the other hand, in the internal evolution and the subsequent action of Kit, in this last part it sounds more like a construction from a (wrong) male gaze that seems implausible. Therefore, it gets a 3.5 rating.

Otherwise, the novel is really highly readable, captivating and intriguing, although sometimes the way it portrays the world and inner thoughts of its characters is excessive, too explanatory. Nevertheless, the construction of atmospheres and characters is a great achievement of the novel. I will watch Bertolucci's film adaptation again to check if it still seems like a great film to me.

UPDATE: I watched the film. I think it has not withstood the passage of time well or, perhaps, my passage of time. I don't think it has to do with having read the novel, as my objections to this film are on another side, not so much because of the narrative fidelity, which there is, but, as usually happens in film adaptations, certain dramas are softened (those related to taboos: death, sexuality). However, what has shocked me the most, so to speak, has been the exoticizing vision of North African and Saharan cultures. I think that years later I have enjoyed Bertolucci's visually poetic cinema less because I have noticed quite a lot the seams in the recreation of scenes, which are more like empty scenery, put there to represent a landscape rather than a culture. It is the lack of depth of what is portrayed that has made me enjoy it less, and, on the other hand, I have found the represented drama a bit more insipid, this perhaps because I have read the novel. It is an aesthetically beautiful film, yes, and its final sequences because of that aestheticism are much more enjoyable than those of the book itself (obviously the premise has changed and been softened).

How fragile we are under the sheltering sky. Behind the sheltering sky is a vast dark universe, and we're just so small. I read this in the early seventies during my despair about the insanity and futility of the Viet Nam War. Bowles published it in 1949, writing it at the end of WWII, when tens of millions of humans had been killed, with events like Hiroshima and the camps. Bowles had moved to Tangier, Morocco in 1947, where he lived out the remainder of his life as a composer and author.

The Sheltering Sky is a beautiful novel that, at its core, is a work of alienation and despair about the state of the world. It resonated with my (at the time, and periodically since) fellow disaffected leftist westerners, artists, writers, those wanting to escape "civilization" somehow or re-establish something better away from the fray. There were also more positive responses to the zeitgeist that didn't seem like giving up.

In the novel, as the blurb states, Bowles examines how three (decidedly unappealing) Americans misunderstand an alien culture and how their incomprehension destroys them. My reference here is to an actual novel titled The Ugly American (1958) by Eugene Burdick and William Lederer about the failures of the (arrogant) west to properly colonize southeast Asia. Ultimately, it is rich with understanding and compassion even for these people as they encounter the "emptiness and cruelty of the desert." This was a very popular book in the late sixties and early seventies. I didn't expect it to nourish and replenish me like "Ode to Joy," but the writing and tone seduced me, despite its being a horror story in many respects. A central woman character faces (among many other things) no good choices in men and is lost in the desert. She has no idea how to relate to the Moroccan/Arabic culture or the desert. It's a powerful indictment of elitist, ethnocentric traveling for traveling's sake. It's a perfect post-war work, not a rant or screed, but a work that strives to understand these characters so we might confront their tendencies in ourselves and others.

"The desert landscape is always at its best in the half-light of dawn or dusk. The sense of distance lacks: a ridge nearby can be a far-off mountain range, each small detail can take on the importance of a major variant on the countryside's repetitious theme. The coming of day promises a change; it is only when the day has fully arrived that the watcher suspects it is the same day returned once again--the same day he has been living for a long time, over and over, still blindingly bright and untarnished by time."

This echoes for me all sorts of post-colonial, ex-pat lost generation stories such as The Sun Also Rises (with all these people behaving badly), The Quiet American by Graham Greene, Conrad's "the horror, the horror" Heart of Darkness. There are ugly Americans, ugly Brits, and ugly colonialism. But in spite of it all, the spiritual void, the kind of existentialist ennui in these people, Bowles still finds a way to make us care about them. They're lost, rootless, not monsters. This book is referenced in a lot of music I listened to over the years, like CSNY, Sting, Bruce Cockburn, that longing to find a better place, something purer spiritually.

"Before her eyes was the violent blue sky— nothing else. For an endless moment she looked into it. Like a great overpowering sound it destroyed everything in her mind, paralyzed her. Someone once had said to her that the sky hides the night behind it, shelters the person beneath from the horror that lies above. Unblinking, she fixed the solid emptiness, and the anguish began to move in her. At any moment the rip can occur, the edges fly back, and the giant maw will be revealed."