Existential Book Club discussion

For many readers, literature acts like a mirror; for others, it is a doorway.
But in existential writing — from Camus and Sartre to Dostoevsky and Kafka — reading often feels like standing at the threshold between two truths:

One we are brave enough to face…
and one we quietly run from.

So I’m curious:
• Do you read to discover parts of yourself you haven’t met yet?
• Or do you read to escape the weight of your own inner world?
• Can a book do both — reveal and shelter — at the same time?
• And finally: Which novel made you confront yourself, and which one helped you escape?

I’d love to hear your thoughts.

— Raphaël Zéla

Raphaël wrote: "For many readers, literature acts like a mirror; for others, it is a doorway.
But in existential writing — from Camus and Sartre to Dostoevsky and Kafka — reading often feels like standing at the t..."

Hi Raphaël ,

Good morning to you and thank you for starting a lovely discussion, again! I note your questions; does anyone actually read books for the purposes like that? I mean, do you make " conscious" decision, for instance, " I am looking for a book that helps me to confront myself" etc... I never do. If reading a book feels like pleasure, I'll read it ( trusting my subconscious mind to work out why EXACTLY it feels nice - if it feels like doing so, that is!)

I'd also read a book for our local book club, the choice was not made by me in that case, but I am usually pleasantly surprised by my friends' book suggestions (other school mums) :)) We tend to read in parallel books from different cultures, such as " 19th century French, then 19th century Russian, English" etc).

Have a great day!

Jasmine

Dear Jasmine,

Your message touches on something fascinating — the secret choreography between our conscious choices and the quiet pull of the subconscious.

I agree that most readers don’t approach a book saying, “I need a novel to confront myself today.”
Literature works in subtler ways. We don’t choose the book; the book chooses the version of us that is ready to be seen.

Sometimes a story consoles us without our asking. Sometimes it exposes a truth we were avoiding. And sometimes, without warning, it becomes the mirror we didn’t know we needed.

I love what you said about trusting your subconscious — perhaps reading is one of the rare moments when the mind steps aside and lets the deeper self navigate.

As for book clubs: I find that books chosen by others often reveal parts of ourselves we wouldn’t have discovered alone. They challenge our patterns, our comfort zones, even our cultural rhythms — shifting from 19th-century France to Russia to England is a journey not just through literature, but through the many lives we could have lived.

Maybe that is the beauty of reading:
we don’t always know what we are seeking — yet somehow, the right stories find us anyway.

— Raphaël Zéla

Raphaël wrote: "Dear Jasmine,

Your message touches on something fascinating — the secret choreography between our conscious choices and the quiet pull of the subconscious.

I agree that most readers don’t approac..."

Hi Raphael,

its a beautiful thought- the book finds you! similar to " what you are seeking, is seeking you!"

:))

Hi Jasmine,

What you said resonates beautifully — not only because it echoes that ancient wisdom “what you are seeking is seeking you,” but because it reveals something profound about the act of reading itself.

Books, much like people, arrive in our lives with a certain timing.
Not when we want them — but when we are finally capable of hearing what they have to say.

Perhaps this is why literature often feels less like entertainment and more like destiny’s quiet signature in our daily lives.

A story does not knock on the door of the mind;
it slips into the unguarded room of the heart.
It knows the version of us that is ripening beneath the surface —
the version we haven’t yet introduced to ourselves.

And maybe this is why the “right” book never really comes too early or too late.
It comes at the exact moment when its words can reshape something in us:
a fear, a question, a memory, a longing.

So yes — the book finds us.
But only because, in some silent way, we have been calling it all along.

Warm regards,
— Raphaël Zéla

Raphaël wrote: "Hi Jasmine,

What you said resonates beautifully — not only because it echoes that ancient wisdom “what you are seeking is seeking you,” but because it reveals something profound about the act of r..."

Dear Raphael,

You sound a bit like a fatalist there- are you..? is everything predetermined?

:))

Jasmine

Dear Jasmine,

It’s a beautiful question — and I’m glad you asked it.

I don’t see myself as a strict fatalist, nor do I believe that everything is entirely predetermined.
If anything, I believe in a more subtle truth:

Life is not a straight line written in advance,
but neither is it a blank page waiting solely for our will.

What guides us is something in-between —
a quiet dialogue between what we choose
and what chooses us.

Books, encounters, ideas…
They come to us not because fate has locked them in place,
but because there is a part of us — often hidden, often unacknowledged —
that is ready for them.

So no, I don’t think everything is predestined.
But I do think certain moments feel inevitable only in hindsight,
as if the inner and outer worlds finally met in the right light.

Maybe destiny isn’t a fixed map,
but a constellation we learn to read as we grow.

Warmly,
— Raphaël Zéla

Raphaël wrote: "Dear Jasmine,

It’s a beautiful question — and I’m glad you asked it.

I don’t see myself as a strict fatalist, nor do I believe that everything is entirely predetermined.
If anything, I believe in..."

Hi Raphaël :)

Your thoughts are as always beautiful and clear but also somewhat... cascading, waterfalling, and... noncommittal (am saying this with a smile, not at all a criticism :) ) I kind of feel you must have a lot of Pisces energy in your natal chart :))

My opinion on the matter is less vague; my soul really agrees with
Zeno:

"Fate is the endless chain of causation, whereby things are; the reason or formula by which the world goes on".

Every time I "test" this, it is always the same.. one move leads to another quite inevitably :)

Have a great evening ,

Jasmine

Hi Jasmine,

Your message made me smile — especially the part about “Pisces energy.”
Perhaps writers do carry a bit of every zodiac in them; we borrow the tides of water signs, the fire of visionaries, the grounding of earth, and the restless curiosity of air. How else could we write the world from so many angles?

As for fatalism, I appreciate the clarity of Zeno’s line —
“the endless chain of causation”
— it’s a beautiful way to think about the architecture of events.

But I see life slightly differently.

For me, causation is real, but not closed.
We’re born into a chain, yes — but we are also capable of bending a few links, loosening others, and occasionally adding a link that wasn’t meant to exist at all. Human consciousness complicates the script.

If everything were truly inevitable, literature wouldn’t matter.
Art wouldn’t matter.
Choice wouldn’t matter.
But they do — profoundly.

Where I agree with you is this:
one step often invites the next, and once we take it, a certain direction becomes more likely… almost “inevitable” in hindsight.
But inevitability is not destiny — it’s simply the quiet logic of our past decisions arranging themselves into a shape.

So maybe I’m neither a fatalist nor the opposite.
Maybe I believe this:

Life is a dialogue — between what happens to us, and what we dare to do with it.

Thank you for adding your clarity and your curiosity to this conversation. It always deepens the space.

Warmly,
— Raphaël Zéla

Raphaël wrote: "Hi Jasmine,

Your message made me smile — especially the part about “Pisces energy.”
Perhaps writers do carry a bit of every zodiac in them; we borrow the tides of water signs, the fire of visionar..."

Hi Raphael :)

You know over the years I've asked this question hundreds of elderly people (my patients); almost all of them say " its predetermined"; as for younger ages, women tend to agree with elderly, and men are definitely just the opposite; they tend to be extremely uncomfortable with not having as much free will as they want :)) which is entirely understandable ... (hug !) :))

What if its really very simple?

The universe is an energy field that encompasses infinity of entities.
All the entities interact with each other in an infinity of ways via energy exchange.
The accounting system is perfect- if it wasn't', celestial bodies would keep falling on top of each other all the time, and they don't do they..?

How could the objective constraint of 27 thousand years celestial cycles, just as one example (axial precession of Earth) not be relevant ..? :))

Sure, there is a space for art and literature etc, perhaps a space of some predetermined volume...

Sorry Raphael, I wouldn't want to give you any "nightmares of less freedom", feel free to ignore all the above musings.

Good night,
:)
Jasmine

Hi Jasmine,

Your message is a beautiful constellation of ideas — and I appreciate the care with which you gathered experience, observation, and cosmic metaphor into a single thread.

What you describe resonates with something I’ve long felt:
the universe may indeed be governed by flawless laws, yet our lives unfold within the small pockets of freedom that bloom inside those laws.

To me, the existence of cosmic precision does not eliminate freedom — it frames it.

Stars follow their orbits with absolute obedience,
yet a single shift in perspective is enough to change how we interpret the sky.

Likewise, humans move within an invisible web of causes, histories, energies, memories, and choices —
but inside this web there is a region where intention breathes,
where awareness bends the trajectory, even if only slightly,
and where the soul claims responsibility for its direction.

Perhaps destiny is not a rigid track,
but a field of possibilities shaped by forces both larger and smaller than us —
cosmic cycles on one side, and the tiniest decisions of a single day on the other.

And maybe freedom is not the ability to escape the structure,
but the ability to dance within it without losing our inner rhythm.

So no — you have given me no nightmares.
Only another reminder that meaning is found somewhere between the stars’ certainty
and the human heart’s restless desire to choose.

Warmly,
— Raphaël Zéla

Well... I think we are finally agreeing on this topic, Raphael :)

...as long as the bloom within my "small pocket of freedom" could be the most beautiful one, that is !

:))

Good night,

Jasmine

Hi Jasmine,

It makes me genuinely happy to see our thoughts meeting at this delicate middle ground — that “small pocket of freedom” we both keep circling around.

And you’re right: if that inner bloom can remain the most beautiful part of our freedom, then perhaps it doesn’t matter how small the pocket is. What matters is that it’s ours — tended by our choices, protected by our awareness, and illuminated by whatever light we allow to enter.

Sometimes, the vast structures around us feel immovable…
but the quiet garden inside a single human soul can still grow in ways no system can predict.

I’m glad we arrived here together.
Your perspective always adds a thoughtful, graceful dimension to the dialogue.

Warmly,
Raphaël