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The Blue Sky Trilogy #2
Die graue Erde
Mit großem Einfühlungsvermögen erzählt der Mongole Galsan Tschinag vom Leben der Tuwa-Nomaden, einem kleinen turksprachigen Stamm in der Mongolei. Er nimmt den Leser mit in den Altai, zu seinen Jurten und Ails. Galsan Tschinag läßt seine Kindheit lebendig werden und schildert, wie ein kleiner Junge den Schamanen in sich entdeckt.
275 pages, Taschenbuch
First published January 1, 2001
8 people are currently reading
228 people want to read
About the author
Galsan Tschinag
64 books73 followersGalsan Tschinag (Чинаагийн Галсан), born Irgit Shynykbai-oglu Dshurukuwaa (*26 December 1944 in Bayan-Ölgii Province, Mongolia) is a Mongolian writer of novels, poems, and essays in the German language, though he hails from a Tuvan background. He is also often described as a Shaman, and is also a teacher and an actor.
Born in the upper Altai Mountains in western Mongolia, the youngest son of a Tuvan shaman, Galsan majored in German studies at the Karl Marx University in Leipzig, East Germany (1962-1968). He did his thesis work under Erwin Strittmatter, and upon graduation began to work as a German teacher at the National University of Mongolia. In 1976 his teaching license was revoked because of his "political untrustworthiness". He continued to work twelve-hour shifts, shuttling between all four of the Mongolian universities. In 1980, at the age of 36, Galsan was diagnosed with a life-threatening heart condition. He later recovered from the condition and credits his "shamanic powers" and plenty of exercise for saving his life.
Today, the author spends most of the year at his home in the Mongolian capital city of Ulan Bator, together with his family of nearly 20. He also spends much time giving readings in the German-speaking world and across Europe, as well as seeking to get closer to his Tuvan roots in the western Mongolian steppes. Though he still writes mainly in German, his books have been translated into many other languages. In addition to his writing, Galsan is an activist for the Tuvan minority and practices shamanistic healing.
Born in the upper Altai Mountains in western Mongolia, the youngest son of a Tuvan shaman, Galsan majored in German studies at the Karl Marx University in Leipzig, East Germany (1962-1968). He did his thesis work under Erwin Strittmatter, and upon graduation began to work as a German teacher at the National University of Mongolia. In 1976 his teaching license was revoked because of his "political untrustworthiness". He continued to work twelve-hour shifts, shuttling between all four of the Mongolian universities. In 1980, at the age of 36, Galsan was diagnosed with a life-threatening heart condition. He later recovered from the condition and credits his "shamanic powers" and plenty of exercise for saving his life.
Today, the author spends most of the year at his home in the Mongolian capital city of Ulan Bator, together with his family of nearly 20. He also spends much time giving readings in the German-speaking world and across Europe, as well as seeking to get closer to his Tuvan roots in the western Mongolian steppes. Though he still writes mainly in German, his books have been translated into many other languages. In addition to his writing, Galsan is an activist for the Tuvan minority and practices shamanistic healing.
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April 15, 2014[This book has been translated into English under the title The Grey Earth.]
Die graue Erde (1999) is the second volume of an autobiographical trilogy written in German by the Tuvan shaman, poet and novelist Galsan Tschinag (b. 1944).(*) I review the first volume here
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
In that review I supply some background about the author and his people.
In this book, set in 1951-52, the young Tuvan boy, Dshurukuwaa, living in the bosom of his extended family in the ancient manner of his nomadic people, is taken by force to the nearest town to be schooled. The Tuvans are a tiny minority in Mongolia, which at that time was under the sway of the USSR and run by the Mongolian Communist Party, and were regarded as a backward, superstition-ridden people by the Mongolians. In the best interest of the Tuvan people, of course, the Mongolian government tried to stamp out the Tuvan culture. For Dshurukuwaa this meant that he had to go to school where only Mongolian (which he understood not a whit) was allowed to be spoken and where he had to learn that most of the ideas he had come to accept among his own people were noisome rubbish. Welcome, indeed!
So, in addition to the usual lovely tortures our rug rats carry out on newly arrived rug rats, Dshurukuwaa must endure the special attention meted out by the authorities to the dangerously backward. That his much older brother is the director of the school is not an advantage, on the contrary, for this fellow is of the rabid type certain new converts with ambitions become.
Tschinag convincingly recalls for us this particular Hexenkessel as well as the terror and wonder of this 8 year old boy who was tossed directly into the deepest part of the pot. There are, of course, also moments of hope and moments of success since the human being, particularly the young human being, is extremely adaptable. Nonetheless, the school was a good approximation to Hell on Earth.
Surprisingly, it did not succeed in crushing the little Tuvan boy into a thin layer of cardboard. (Of course, if it had, we would not have been graced with these books.) No, this kid keeps himself more or less intact by hating those trying to break his spirit and by learning how to lie to them, to tell them what they want to hear. Slowly, Tschinag learns that almost everyone is lying in this manner.
Of particular absurdity is the New Year's Eve when word reaches the little town that the great dictator has died. The eager and opportunistic compete to see who can manifest the most grief; the local party secretary threatens everyone else so that they, too, play their parts as well as they can. A clever student rubs a freshly cut onion on a piece of cloth and, presto! tears on demand. His fellow students copy him and the school receives a special commendation from the party secretary... And then there is the typical small souled man whom a little power inflates into an asshole of gigantic proportions.
The little boy also learns the hard way which questions should not be asked. And when one should not laugh, or even smile.(**)
But this is an oft told story.
Another oft told story is the collision between the "superstition-ridden" native culture and the "scientific" and "progressive" culture of the power brokers. But usually this story is told from the point of view of the triumphant culture. In such a setting readers in our Elysian Fields can feel a sense of confirmation, perhaps even triumph. This time, however, the triumphant, progressive culture is one which we Elysian Field dwellers easily distance ourselves from, and the story is told from the point of view of a member of the weaker culture. Do we suddenly change sides? Are now the ignorant natives in the right?
It is just not that simple.
Of particular interest here is that Tschinag is a university educated man (in Leipzig) well acquainted with Western science who is, nonetheless, a shaman. He isn't some ignorant middle American preacher ranting about Hell and Damnation for everybody who doesn't quite exactly toe his line. His is the kind of lived spirituality that makes me pause.
So, along with the strands I mentioned earlier, Tschinag weaves in this further strand - how and why does someone become a shaman? How many shamans have been educated at a Western university and can express themselves eloquently in a Western language? This autobiographical trilogy is a rare opportunity to see how such a man views the world. It is also damn well written.
(*) His Tuvan name is Irgit Shynykbai-oglu Dshurukuwaa, but the Mongolian authorities forced him to adopt the Mongolian name when he went to school and henceforth whenever he must have dealings with them.
(**) There are untouchable matters in every society, including in our little Elysian Fields. When one is old enough to have seen how the untouchable has become touchable and the touchable untouchable, as I have, one can become a little skeptical about the absolute certainty which the-quick-to-outrage-among-us project.
Rating
http://leopard.booklikes.com/post/853...
Die graue Erde (1999) is the second volume of an autobiographical trilogy written in German by the Tuvan shaman, poet and novelist Galsan Tschinag (b. 1944).(*) I review the first volume here
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
In that review I supply some background about the author and his people.
In this book, set in 1951-52, the young Tuvan boy, Dshurukuwaa, living in the bosom of his extended family in the ancient manner of his nomadic people, is taken by force to the nearest town to be schooled. The Tuvans are a tiny minority in Mongolia, which at that time was under the sway of the USSR and run by the Mongolian Communist Party, and were regarded as a backward, superstition-ridden people by the Mongolians. In the best interest of the Tuvan people, of course, the Mongolian government tried to stamp out the Tuvan culture. For Dshurukuwaa this meant that he had to go to school where only Mongolian (which he understood not a whit) was allowed to be spoken and where he had to learn that most of the ideas he had come to accept among his own people were noisome rubbish. Welcome, indeed!
So, in addition to the usual lovely tortures our rug rats carry out on newly arrived rug rats, Dshurukuwaa must endure the special attention meted out by the authorities to the dangerously backward. That his much older brother is the director of the school is not an advantage, on the contrary, for this fellow is of the rabid type certain new converts with ambitions become.
Tschinag convincingly recalls for us this particular Hexenkessel as well as the terror and wonder of this 8 year old boy who was tossed directly into the deepest part of the pot. There are, of course, also moments of hope and moments of success since the human being, particularly the young human being, is extremely adaptable. Nonetheless, the school was a good approximation to Hell on Earth.
Surprisingly, it did not succeed in crushing the little Tuvan boy into a thin layer of cardboard. (Of course, if it had, we would not have been graced with these books.) No, this kid keeps himself more or less intact by hating those trying to break his spirit and by learning how to lie to them, to tell them what they want to hear. Slowly, Tschinag learns that almost everyone is lying in this manner.
Of particular absurdity is the New Year's Eve when word reaches the little town that the great dictator has died. The eager and opportunistic compete to see who can manifest the most grief; the local party secretary threatens everyone else so that they, too, play their parts as well as they can. A clever student rubs a freshly cut onion on a piece of cloth and, presto! tears on demand. His fellow students copy him and the school receives a special commendation from the party secretary... And then there is the typical small souled man whom a little power inflates into an asshole of gigantic proportions.
The little boy also learns the hard way which questions should not be asked. And when one should not laugh, or even smile.(**)
But this is an oft told story.
Another oft told story is the collision between the "superstition-ridden" native culture and the "scientific" and "progressive" culture of the power brokers. But usually this story is told from the point of view of the triumphant culture. In such a setting readers in our Elysian Fields can feel a sense of confirmation, perhaps even triumph. This time, however, the triumphant, progressive culture is one which we Elysian Field dwellers easily distance ourselves from, and the story is told from the point of view of a member of the weaker culture. Do we suddenly change sides? Are now the ignorant natives in the right?
It is just not that simple.
Of particular interest here is that Tschinag is a university educated man (in Leipzig) well acquainted with Western science who is, nonetheless, a shaman. He isn't some ignorant middle American preacher ranting about Hell and Damnation for everybody who doesn't quite exactly toe his line. His is the kind of lived spirituality that makes me pause.
So, along with the strands I mentioned earlier, Tschinag weaves in this further strand - how and why does someone become a shaman? How many shamans have been educated at a Western university and can express themselves eloquently in a Western language? This autobiographical trilogy is a rare opportunity to see how such a man views the world. It is also damn well written.
(*) His Tuvan name is Irgit Shynykbai-oglu Dshurukuwaa, but the Mongolian authorities forced him to adopt the Mongolian name when he went to school and henceforth whenever he must have dealings with them.
(**) There are untouchable matters in every society, including in our little Elysian Fields. When one is old enough to have seen how the untouchable has become touchable and the touchable untouchable, as I have, one can become a little skeptical about the absolute certainty which the-quick-to-outrage-among-us project.
Rating
http://leopard.booklikes.com/post/853...
September 28, 2024
Mini kitap klübümüzün ikinci kitabı. Mavi Gökyüzü'nün Türkçesine erişemediğimden İngilizcesinden okumuştum.
Şiddetle tavsiye ediyorum.
Şehirde büyümüş, tabiat aşkı kelebek kovalayıp çiçek koparmak olan asfalt çocukları için bir masal gibi gelecektir, fakat acı da var ve buz gibi; delip geçiyor.
Çınag bir yerde kahramanlardan birine hikâye abartılarak anlatılmalı dedirtiyor. Biz okuyanlar, yaşadığı hayatın gerçekliğini destekleyen bu abartıları hoşgörüyle kabul ediyoruz.
Şiddetle tavsiye ediyorum.
Şehirde büyümüş, tabiat aşkı kelebek kovalayıp çiçek koparmak olan asfalt çocukları için bir masal gibi gelecektir, fakat acı da var ve buz gibi; delip geçiyor.
Çınag bir yerde kahramanlardan birine hikâye abartılarak anlatılmalı dedirtiyor. Biz okuyanlar, yaşadığı hayatın gerçekliğini destekleyen bu abartıları hoşgörüyle kabul ediyoruz.
August 25, 2012
The Blue Sky - The Gray Earth - and the third (untranslated yet?) is called The White Mountain. At the end of the 1st our boy was alienated from the Blue Sky, and we pick up his story in that state of disenchantment: Away from the mute and pitiless sky that supposedly knows all, sees all, and hears all, but pretends to be deaf and blind the moment I need to be heard and seen. At the end of this one, he meets that White Mountain, in a fumbling shaman's vision (he's nine) - and we get a glimpse of what that symbol means to him.
'Symbol' is wrong, sorry, since Father Sky and Mother Earth and the shaman-Mountain are holy and real: this holiness, this realness are challenged, slandered, outraged, by the boy himself, by family members who crack under pressure of a hard life and misfortunes, and of course by the Communist authorities. Particularly in this book, where he spends his first year at school. The crux of the novel is when the schoolkids are marched out to do violence to the Gray Earth, to teach them the lesson that the old beliefs are superstitions, that the Earth is a material lump only of use for our exploitation.
The boy, at 8 and 9 years, knows he wants to be a shaman. Shamans are persecuted and liable to be sent to prison, as are lamas - we meet a lama in his age out of prison, to close this book, and he has wise things to say about survival.
Maybe because this is autobiographical fiction, the boy's first-person works tremendously well, I thought, with immediacy and vividness. He's a passionate little boy, storming and screaming (for which he has cause). And standing up for classmates. His shaman's vocation he tentatively explores; and learns commitment in the hardest possible way, when he did not follow his shaman promptings - failed to do his job - and those around him suffer for it. A shaman has a job to do, for other's sake, and must be brave - even when you're nine and heavily indoctrinated.
'Symbol' is wrong, sorry, since Father Sky and Mother Earth and the shaman-Mountain are holy and real: this holiness, this realness are challenged, slandered, outraged, by the boy himself, by family members who crack under pressure of a hard life and misfortunes, and of course by the Communist authorities. Particularly in this book, where he spends his first year at school. The crux of the novel is when the schoolkids are marched out to do violence to the Gray Earth, to teach them the lesson that the old beliefs are superstitions, that the Earth is a material lump only of use for our exploitation.
The boy, at 8 and 9 years, knows he wants to be a shaman. Shamans are persecuted and liable to be sent to prison, as are lamas - we meet a lama in his age out of prison, to close this book, and he has wise things to say about survival.
Maybe because this is autobiographical fiction, the boy's first-person works tremendously well, I thought, with immediacy and vividness. He's a passionate little boy, storming and screaming (for which he has cause). And standing up for classmates. His shaman's vocation he tentatively explores; and learns commitment in the hardest possible way, when he did not follow his shaman promptings - failed to do his job - and those around him suffer for it. A shaman has a job to do, for other's sake, and must be brave - even when you're nine and heavily indoctrinated.
November 29, 2016
I was introduced to Tuva by the movie Genghis Blues about an African American blues singer who went to Tuva and learned Tuvan throat singing. After that I read Tuva or Bust! Richard Feynman's Last Journeyabout Richard Feynman's obsession with going to Tuva. So when I found out about Galsan Tschinag's books recently, I wanted to learn more about Tuva.
I found the first book disappointing, but I thought it was because the central character was so young. In The Gray Earth, the protagonist is old enough to understand himself and his culture, but he's shipped off to boarding school. I've read about Native Americans in boarding school, but this isn't like those stories at all. Let's just say that the USSR wasn't very successful with their indoctrination. This is a tale of cultural resistance. I particularly liked what a lama had to say about spiritual power being within rather than residing within sacred objects.
I found this book rather wonderful and I look forward to reading the third volume when it's finally translated into English.
I found the first book disappointing, but I thought it was because the central character was so young. In The Gray Earth, the protagonist is old enough to understand himself and his culture, but he's shipped off to boarding school. I've read about Native Americans in boarding school, but this isn't like those stories at all. Let's just say that the USSR wasn't very successful with their indoctrination. This is a tale of cultural resistance. I particularly liked what a lama had to say about spiritual power being within rather than residing within sacred objects.
I found this book rather wonderful and I look forward to reading the third volume when it's finally translated into English.
February 7, 2011
The Gray Earth is the second novel in a series by Mongolian writer Galsan Tschinag, a Tuvan singer, shaman, and leader who writes in German. The first book, The Blue Sky, is narrated by a young shepherd who lives in the high and difficult Altai mountains. The Gray Earth follows the same boy, Dshurukuwaa, for a year as he begins his formal education and is introduced to “civilized” town life.
Dshurukuwaa is taken to boarding school by his principal half-brother in such abrupt haste that he literally forgets his pants. He describes his new surroundings by employing animal similes and metaphors: “I see yurts pushed into a clump like chased lambs” and “the man with the yak-bull hair and horsefly eyes shakes his fists and yells something that sounds like a grown bull plunging his horns between a young challenger’s ribs.” He recognizes he has entered “a square world” where the roundness of nature is cut, pounded, and moved into obedient rigid shapes, where people live by the clock rather than the natural rhythms of daily work.
The plot emerges from his enculturation into Mongolian society and its conflicts with his traditional Tuvan beliefs. Like Tschinag, Dshurukuwaa is a shaman, and “shamanizing” is a crime in this Soviet-influenced Communist system. Even speaking Tuvan is forbidden. He is told by his classmate: “The language itself, like your Tuvan name, is behind the times and cannot be written…We must leave behind everything that is backward. Instead, we must learn the civilized Mongolian language, which will lead us to the bright pinnacles of learning.”
The novel seems highly autobiographical. The narrator shares the author’s Tuvan name and is keenly bright. In an attempt to avoid problems with the Communist party, he maintains perfect grades, but as the year goes on, he feels his very essence being denied: “Are the plants and animals also nothing but bundles of flesh, bone, water, air, and earth? …I feel empty inside and dull outside—a soulless bundle in a disenchanted world.”
The Blue Sky was beautifully translated with care and color by the lauded translator Katharina Rout, but in The Gray Earth she employs many stock phrases and clichés, such as “tasty morsels,” “bated breath,” and “pulling a face.”
However, Milkweed Editions deserves applause for translating this important book into English. Indigenous cultures and languages have been attacked, denied, and lost in boarding schools worldwide. It is an investment in our humanity to save, document, translate, and share stories such as this one that allow readers to understand the square strangeness of our so-called modern lives.
Dshurukuwaa is taken to boarding school by his principal half-brother in such abrupt haste that he literally forgets his pants. He describes his new surroundings by employing animal similes and metaphors: “I see yurts pushed into a clump like chased lambs” and “the man with the yak-bull hair and horsefly eyes shakes his fists and yells something that sounds like a grown bull plunging his horns between a young challenger’s ribs.” He recognizes he has entered “a square world” where the roundness of nature is cut, pounded, and moved into obedient rigid shapes, where people live by the clock rather than the natural rhythms of daily work.
The plot emerges from his enculturation into Mongolian society and its conflicts with his traditional Tuvan beliefs. Like Tschinag, Dshurukuwaa is a shaman, and “shamanizing” is a crime in this Soviet-influenced Communist system. Even speaking Tuvan is forbidden. He is told by his classmate: “The language itself, like your Tuvan name, is behind the times and cannot be written…We must leave behind everything that is backward. Instead, we must learn the civilized Mongolian language, which will lead us to the bright pinnacles of learning.”
The novel seems highly autobiographical. The narrator shares the author’s Tuvan name and is keenly bright. In an attempt to avoid problems with the Communist party, he maintains perfect grades, but as the year goes on, he feels his very essence being denied: “Are the plants and animals also nothing but bundles of flesh, bone, water, air, and earth? …I feel empty inside and dull outside—a soulless bundle in a disenchanted world.”
The Blue Sky was beautifully translated with care and color by the lauded translator Katharina Rout, but in The Gray Earth she employs many stock phrases and clichés, such as “tasty morsels,” “bated breath,” and “pulling a face.”
However, Milkweed Editions deserves applause for translating this important book into English. Indigenous cultures and languages have been attacked, denied, and lost in boarding schools worldwide. It is an investment in our humanity to save, document, translate, and share stories such as this one that allow readers to understand the square strangeness of our so-called modern lives.
February 13, 2013
The second book in the trilogy of life in the Altai Mountains of Western Mongolia in the 1950's is even better than the first book. Somehow I wasn't expecting it to be as rich in terms of culture and plot once we left the mountains and the steppe but it's a battleground of cultural conflict between the nomadic and shamanistic ways of the people and the new communist quest to give them knowledge and transform them into farmers. The young boy is taken to school reluctantly by his older half brother who just happens to be the principal. Life with your older half brother, whom you hardly even know, as the principal can be difficult. It's quite a transition and a very unpleasant one at times as he learns what not to do. He quickly learns to suppress his shaman abilities or face the consequences from the communists. Corporal punishment, absurd and almost laughable bureaucratic procedures, informing on others, all are part of the soup of life in the school. This book is even more poignant than the first and the title is a harbinger of its tragic ending.
August 16, 2024
Göçebe Moğol bir ailenin çocuklarının eğitim süreci içerisinde gelişen bir kitap. Zor ve kısıtlı imkanlar dahilinde mesleğini alıp bir okulda müdür olan ve eğitim yolunda yaşamını yitiren Çokonay, diğer iki kardeş ve her ne kadar çevre tarafından baskılanmaya çalışılsa da doğuştan Şaman olan Curunay ana karakterler.
Yaşadıkları bölge fazlasıyla kısıtlayıcı ve ağır cezaların olduğu bir bölge ancak insanlar her ne kadar bu kısıtlama ve cezalara maruz kalsada aslında gelenek ve göreneklerinden vazgeçmiyorlar. Vazgeçirmek yerine uyarlamak belkide en doğrusu..
İnsanların anlam yüklediği şeylerin ellerinden alınması onları çıplakmış gibi hissettiriyor ama onlar olmadan da kendileri olabileceklerinin farkına varıyorlar. “Fakat nasıl ki tahtsız, taçsız krallar insanların bedenlerine hükmetmeye başladıysa, şavıdsız, aynasız şamanlar ve davulsuz, çansız lamalar da insanların ruhlarına hükmedecek.”
3 gruptan oluşan güzel bir biyografik eser. Daha önce Moğol yaşamında dair hiç kitap okumamıştım, bir kaç duyumsama haricinde şamanlığa dair bilgim yoktu. Edindiğim bilgiler ve yüklediği o kocaman duygularla keyifli bir okuma oldu. Akıcı insanı içine alan bir kitap. Eğitim yolunda, ailesinin gurur kaynağıyken yaşamını yitiren ‘aga’ beni ağlattı. Ama ondan daha çok sahnenin aktarılışı çok güzeldi ya da ben çok iç içe geçtim bilmiyorum ama serviste giderken gözyaşlarımı şoförden zor sakladım:)
Yaşadıkları bölge fazlasıyla kısıtlayıcı ve ağır cezaların olduğu bir bölge ancak insanlar her ne kadar bu kısıtlama ve cezalara maruz kalsada aslında gelenek ve göreneklerinden vazgeçmiyorlar. Vazgeçirmek yerine uyarlamak belkide en doğrusu..
İnsanların anlam yüklediği şeylerin ellerinden alınması onları çıplakmış gibi hissettiriyor ama onlar olmadan da kendileri olabileceklerinin farkına varıyorlar. “Fakat nasıl ki tahtsız, taçsız krallar insanların bedenlerine hükmetmeye başladıysa, şavıdsız, aynasız şamanlar ve davulsuz, çansız lamalar da insanların ruhlarına hükmedecek.”
3 gruptan oluşan güzel bir biyografik eser. Daha önce Moğol yaşamında dair hiç kitap okumamıştım, bir kaç duyumsama haricinde şamanlığa dair bilgim yoktu. Edindiğim bilgiler ve yüklediği o kocaman duygularla keyifli bir okuma oldu. Akıcı insanı içine alan bir kitap. Eğitim yolunda, ailesinin gurur kaynağıyken yaşamını yitiren ‘aga’ beni ağlattı. Ama ondan daha çok sahnenin aktarılışı çok güzeldi ya da ben çok iç içe geçtim bilmiyorum ama serviste giderken gözyaşlarımı şoförden zor sakladım:)
July 4, 2019
Reading the world - Mongolia
3,5 -> 4
The Gray Earth is the second book in the trilogy but can be read as standalone. I had no problem with understanding what's going on.
The story works on two levels. The first layer is coming of age story of a young boy, who is forced by his older brother to go to school. The kid has other ideas like becoming a shaman of his clan for example. Later, readers can observe his adaptation to a new, unknown environment.
The other subplot is more subtle because the school is a nest of communistic, Soviet propaganda that's main goals are uprooting local traditions, beliefs and even Tuvan language under the cover of progress and fight with superstitions or so-called barbarism. Cultural imperialism in a pure form taught by the best? But that's nothing new in the world. Still, Soviet-style school and dictatorship is a sad place to observe.
Anyway, the young protagonist must face a very complicated dilemma. How much of his dreams he should compromise for his own and his family's sake before he loses himself? And what he will gain by doing that? All of this happens in the shadow of the slow process of recreating long lost bonds and understanding between siblings.
3,5 -> 4
The Gray Earth is the second book in the trilogy but can be read as standalone. I had no problem with understanding what's going on.
The story works on two levels. The first layer is coming of age story of a young boy, who is forced by his older brother to go to school. The kid has other ideas like becoming a shaman of his clan for example. Later, readers can observe his adaptation to a new, unknown environment.
The other subplot is more subtle because the school is a nest of communistic, Soviet propaganda that's main goals are uprooting local traditions, beliefs and even Tuvan language under the cover of progress and fight with superstitions or so-called barbarism. Cultural imperialism in a pure form taught by the best? But that's nothing new in the world. Still, Soviet-style school and dictatorship is a sad place to observe.
Anyway, the young protagonist must face a very complicated dilemma. How much of his dreams he should compromise for his own and his family's sake before he loses himself? And what he will gain by doing that? All of this happens in the shadow of the slow process of recreating long lost bonds and understanding between siblings.
January 8, 2021
The Gray Earth continues the story of Dshurukawaa from The Blue Sky. He is more or less kidnapped and taken back to the government boarding school where his two brothers and sister are. Here he must learn new ways, a new language, and a new culture. After some difficult, although at times nearly amusing, incidents, Dshurukawaa starts to adjust to the new world. Then, we begin to see that there are parts of the Tuvan and nomadic culture that are deeply ingrained and not so easily tossed aside. The final message is that we must change some to fit into the changing world, but we also must maintain many of our basic beliefs and parts of our culture. It is a message that pertains to all the indigenous peoples everywhere. The 4 ranking is because of the importance of this message.
July 22, 2024
Après une enfance insouciante à garder les moutons dans la steppe, notre valeureux narrateur est rattrapé par le monde moderne. Et dans la Mongolie du début des années 1950, le monde moderne, c'est l'école organisée par l'Etat communiste qui vient répandre le progrès de la sédentarisation et de la fin des superstitions.
June 16, 2019
This is the second book in a memoir trilogy, which reads like novels. This book goes through the authors ‘tweens’ and teen years, and like the first one, the voice and perspective of the child is very authentic and believable. There are more characters and more events in this book than the first one, so if you found the first one a bit too slow moving you may prefer this one. Like the first, it describes life for nomadic Mongolians at a specific time in the country’s history, when they became part of the USSR. I found it very informative and insightful. I read it while I was staying in Mongolia for a month and found that it really helped me to understand the country, customs and people. Tschinag really shows the cultural clash of a country shifting from a traditional indigenous lifestyle to modernisation and how it plays out in people’s and families’ lives. There are some very heart-wrenching moments. I also enjoyed it as a good read. I hope the final book in the trilogy is available soon! And that more of his work is translated into English.
October 6, 2016
This exceptional semi-autobiographical novel depicted a residential school experience that paralleled that of descriptions of indigenous residential school survivors in Canada as well. I.e. both entailed taking ethnic minorities' children away from their families in order to carry out forced linguistic and cultural assimilation into the dominant culture (Mongolians in Mongolia, French and Anglo-Canadians in Canada) and indoctrinate them into a colonial mentality of self-hatred and acceptance of their own oppression. At the same time, the novel leaves us with hope and an appreciation for cultural differences.
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February 7, 2011Why is this book credited as being written by Katharina Rout, the translator, as opposed to Galsang Tsiching, the Mongolian author? Goodreads, fix this!
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