melancholy

how easy it is to drown ourselves in melancholy. i (becca) am feeling melancholy today. i have just read two incredibly beautiful and enthralling and yet long and tragic novels. both about human struggle. Firstly, in The Living, of those who hauled their families and belongings from east to west across america in search of gold and a better life, only to find hardship and loss of life, hunger and a battle to survive. i learnt a lot about life for the american settlers. the second, A Fine Balance, about india in the 70s - the chaos and corruption; the struggle for the lower castes against hideous injustice, crimes against human dignity, characters who i grew to love, stripped of hope and life. both novels weave beautiful stories of individual lives together with humour and glimmers of joy amidst the tragedy. it is amazing how enthralling misfortune is - curiosity and intrigue keeps us glued to news stories of daily tradegies. the good stories don't sell so well. we are fascinated and thankful that it is not us and wonder if we will be next. these books taught me about our resilience in the face of suffering and gave me vivid windows in to life for people in eras and places that i can only vaguely imagine.

my faith in god's justice is weakened as i read these stories and yet imagine the emptiness without it, when faced with the depravity in the world. god weeps too. it was not his plan. i pray it gives me strength to be a conduit of love and hope to people who, like in these books, suffer so much.

a quote from The Living about a young woman saying goodbye to her beau who is leaving to study at university - set in 1893 near Seattle (the melodrama in this makes me smile): ' How was it possible to endure the losses one accumulated just by living? Sentiment based on fact was the most grievous sort, she thought, for the only escape from it was to shrug off the fact - that babies died, say, or that people lost lands they loved, that youth aged, love faded, everybody ended in graves, and nothing would ever again be the same. She pounded herself to tears with these melancholy truths, as if to ensure that she would not betray herself by forgetting them - which, however, she knew full well that she would, as all other grown persons have done, to their manfestly improved mental balance.'

i have loved reading these books given to me by very dear people. They are raw and touch your soul in beautiful and painful ways - i would recommend them to others. Maybe its time for me to read some Enid Blyton!