After reading just two of her novels, I’m absolutely convinced that I have to snatch up everything Olga Tokarczuk has written. Her curious mind takes me places I want to be led, as in Flights. Her compassion and concern for the natural world, as in this book, is something I share with her. She makes me think of things in ways I hadn’t thought of before. For instance, in my wildest dreams, the foot has never been my favorite body part, yet I can get on board with the protagonist’s (Janina’s) rationalization. Of course, I realize she’s referring to more than just the physical appearance of the foot here.
“It is in the feet that all knowledge of Mankind lies hidden; the body sends them a weighty sense of who we really are and how we relate to the earth. It’s in the touch of the earth, at its point of contact with the body that the whole mystery is located—the fact that we’re built of elements of matter, while also being alien to it, separated from it.”
Janina (her given name, which she believes doesn’t suit her) is obsessed with astrology and horoscopes. She reads the stars, she looks at birth dates as signs, and she judges past and future events based on the positioning of the planets. I’ll admit I’ve never gone to such extremes, but I can easily put my belief into things like physics and matter and natural energy. It makes a lot of sense to me, much more than other things do these days. We’ve yet to uncover a whole lot of the mysteries of this earth.
“… the world is a great big net, it is a whole, where no single thing exists separately; every scrap of the world, every last tiny piece, is bound up with the rest by a complex Cosmos of correspondences, hard for the ordinary mind to penetrate.”
Most of the townspeople believe all of this to be the foolish mutterings of an old, mad woman - except for a small few who she bands together with. I loved this little group! When a series of suspicious deaths occur in her little Polish village, Janina becomes involved in the unraveling of the mystery with the support of those friends. This book, however, is far from a conventional mystery, and therefore won’t appeal universally. I devoured it. I’ve been thinking about it a lot since finishing it. I was originally going to rate this four stars, but so many of my highlighted notes were so thoroughly thought-provoking and the story was so well-paced for this reader, that I know it’s worthy of all the stars now.
“Sometimes I feel as if we’re living inside a tomb, a large, spacious one for lots of people. I looked at the world wreathed in gray Murk, cold and nasty. The prison is not outside, but inside each of us. Perhaps we simply don’t know how to live without it.”
“… despite the semblance of cheerfulness that people naively and ingenuously ascribe to me, I see everything as if in a dark mirror, as if through smoked glass. I view the world in the same way as others look at the Sun in eclipse.”
“My life’s harvest is not the building material for anything, neither in my time, now, nor in any other, never. But why should we have to be useful and for what reason? Who divided the world into useless and useful, and by what right?”
Just one more, in case you may are beginning to think this novel is all doom and gloom. Janina can be wonderfully cheeky at times:
“I don’t like those high, powerful cars, made with war in mind, rather than walks in the lap of nature. Their large wheels churn up the ruts in the dirt roads and damage the footpaths. Their mighty engines make a lot of noise and produce exhaust fumes. I am convinced that their owners have small dicks and compensate for this deficiency by having large cars.”