Streams of Life (27)
A lot of things have happened ever since I wrote here last time. But the most important thing is that I have got a library card, and am reading cheerfully three books at the same time: Dear Theo; A Life Story; and Short stories by Earnest
Hemingway. It is hard to say which of them is most preferable.
Dear Theo recorded correspondences that Van Gogh, the Holland painter, wrote to
his brother Theo. Someone once said, after reading the book, that Van Gogh was as an excellent painter as he was a writer. He cared to read, to draw, and cared
everything that moved him: The thawing of snow, the miner trotting toward their
shaft against the sunset, the peasant digging potatoes in the field. There was
life and emotion in his drawings, and he deemed that was of utmost importance.
I was surprised to know how sentimental and lonely his was and how harsh life and people around him were on him. No wonder he wrote numerous letters to Theo, as
who was one of the few, if at all, that had been there supporting and understanding him. Theo shared the same earnestness, if not more, in color and painting as Van Gogh. Hence reading Van Gogh’s writing, you may come to know how he achieved the consummate drawing skill eventually. You will see how assiduous and devoted he was toward painting. I was in awe to know how he struggled through all his life but never had a thought of slackening or giving up. It is one of the best books I have ever read.
A life Story is a biography about Earnest Hemingway. My interest in him came back, after reading his novels A Farwell to arms, and The Old Man and the Sea years ago, due to Michael Palin’s Hemingway’s Adventure. Michael Paline exploded lots of places that Hemingway went in his life time: Spain, France, Cuba, and so
forth. Seeing these places, hearing people talk about him, and the memory of his
book leaving impression on me forced me to know him a bit more. Then there was
the anthology of his short stories as well. To know him, biography recorded his
personal life and experience, whereas the anthology recorded, to a certain extent, what his life experiences brought on him.
It is amazing to have a library card. The library of this city collects loads of
imported books. Once you own the card, you own all of them. Last time when I was there, I also borrowed Common Sense, by Thomas Paine, for my friend. Before that I had tried to buy one copy off the shelf at the local foreign language bookstore, but had come back in vain. It was peculiar and disappointing to see that
how scantily the bookstore has classics to its readers.
Despite that I have the knowledge in mind that every book should more or less have its reading value, I often have scruples about reading newly published books.
One reason is there are too many; another I really have no idea if they are worth reading. In contrast, those classics, like hidden gems in the media-rampant
society, are always becoming and guarantee you a worthy reading time. And more
importantly, reading them can bring you close to the inner world of those insightful writers. If you are fortunate enough, some of them may shine their wisdom on you, and bring courage and motivation for your life, which will wholly change
your life then onwards.
