When I first saw this book’s sub-title - tales of Shangri-La, I made one of the corniest remarks ever…

So… Hilton wrote a novel about Shangri-La?

-> ^_^|||

It only took ONE sentence to make me decide to read it… “You will not find Shangri-La marked on any map. I am afraid that is all I can say.”

Synopsis
Conway, a British consul far wiser than expected at an age of 30+, his deputy, a hot-blooded Conway-worshipping officer, an austere female missionary, and an American financier on the run away from almost the entire investment world find themselves stranded in the mysterious snow-capped moutains of Tibet after their hijacked plane crashes. They are soon ‘found’ by a group of men who bring them to the lamasery of Shangri-La. There, they are initially delighted with the hospitality of the community, as well as the provision of such modern facilities and good food amidst the apparent wilderness. Their initial relief at having located an oasis of warmth and calm in the middle of the cruel Tibetan winds are pervaded by a sense of uneasiness. There appears to be forbidden places, secrets abound and their host is deliberately careful with the amount of information supplied.

So here we see how four very different people cope with such a stressful situation. Conway, tired of the ways of life, the war and all the responsibilities that he really couldn’t care much about, delighted in the peace at the lamasery. He loved the meditative way things were done, and his conversations with their host there. He lost himself in the scripts and books available, and spent his time contemplating the scenery there. The missionary, tasks herself with learning the Tibetan language so that one day, she could preach and teach her faith to these people. The American financier suprisingly fits in pretty well too, and takes this soujourn at this magical place as a respite from all the troubles awaiting him in the outside world. Notably, it is Mallinson, the young officer, whose restless soul and rash personality who is most out-of-place in the lamasery. He reminded me of myself. Once, I was always the restless one, who always felt that there was so much to achieve and experience out there, that I never let myself be limited by boundaries. (Geographic or not) But these days, I’m feeling increasingly like Conway.

***SPOILERS*** (maybe EW you would not want to read this part)

It turns out that this lamasery selectively recruits outsiders to join their ranks. People are ’stranded’ in the mountains, and then welcomed at this place. They are told that they can leave when the delivery men from the outside world come with supplied (they come every few months). But by then, all have ‘fallen’ under the spell of this magical world that they do not want to leave. The story takes a turn when the oldest of the old lamas (head lama, in other words) dies, at an incredible age of erm at least close to 200 years old and wishes for Conway to carry on his work… But does Conway choose to stay or to leave? And what of his companions? And Mallinson? The all-too-eager youth? Does he quench his thirst for adventure and the outside world? Or will he find something/someone for whom he’ll remain in the lamasery for?

This story leaves behind a lingering taste. It’s not exactly bittersweet/neutral/angsty/sad/hopeless… It’s the kind of book that makes you sigh, and then lapse into silent meditation for hours after you’ve finished reading it. It also has a healing effect, somehow it helps put your turmoils to rest, and brings a sort of peace into you. (Reminds me of ‘The Pilgrimage’ by Paulo Coelho.)

I am so tired. Exhausted. And I see not much reason and sense in doing what I am doing now. (But of course, I’m sure I’ll change my mind once this stressful period is over.) Yet, I’m not exactly sure how much I can accomplish for those that I work for in the future. I’m not sure I’m good enough for them. I’m not sure whether I could do more for these people in a different capacity.

How I wish to have a place away from the world. Away from everyone I know. I just want to breathe, think and ponder over the most inane matters such as, why do we conjugate Spanish verbs thus, and why are there so many short-forms in Italian? I think I’m far too young to be feeling so old. Acks.