The Alchemist Paulo Coelho
Two months ago, I pulled The Alchemist off the shelf as part of the read-the-books-I've-been-meaning-to effort, grateful for its small size.
The first page is brilliant: Narcissus is in love with his reflection in the pool and falls into it and drowns. The pool misses him, not for his looks which she never did appreciate, but for her inability to see herself reflected in his eyes. Nice twist there, but it has nothing to do with the rest of the book, except perhaps that the main character is narcissistic.
This is a simple tale of a shepherd boy who lives Spain in a time before cars but after churches. The boy decides to leave his family and acquires a small flock of sheep (if a subtle metaphor was intended here, it doesn't work). He wanders, letting his flock graze, sells wool and occasionally kills and eats one of the sheep. After a night of disturbing dreams in a crumbling church, he encounters a gypsy who prophesies that he will get rich (she wants 10% of his wealth, payable later, really, I'm not making that up). He knows that the universe will make his dreams come true if only he will believe in his dreams and not abandon them. Ah, I wish I could be so trusting.
After a misadventure in Northern Africa in which he sells his sheep and loses the gold to a con artist, he helps a merchant sell crystal to tourists and expand his business and diversify it to include tea, served in little goblets which are also for sale. He earns money, decides not to buy more sheep, but travels instead to see the pyramids where he expects to find treasure, following another dream. Many dreams in this book. He joins a caravan, stops at an oasis, falls in love, gets through a battle between warring tribes, and meets an alchemist. He then has another dream which tells him to return to that church of strange dreams in Spain. He breaks a wall in that church when he returns, which is not so hard to do since it was crumbling in the first place, and finds gold, lots of gold.
Why do I feel so cheated, so spiritually bankrupt after reading this book? Could there be more to life than finding gold? The Alchemist has a five star review on Amazon and has been described as a modern day version of The Little Prince. I will not agree with that, but ten million readers couldn't be wrong.
Two months ago, I pulled The Alchemist off the shelf as part of the read-the-books-I've-been-meaning-to effort, grateful for its small size.
The first page is brilliant: Narcissus is in love with his reflection in the pool and falls into it and drowns. The pool misses him, not for his looks which she never did appreciate, but for her inability to see herself reflected in his eyes. Nice twist there, but it has nothing to do with the rest of the book, except perhaps that the main character is narcissistic.
This is a simple tale of a shepherd boy who lives Spain in a time before cars but after churches. The boy decides to leave his family and acquires a small flock of sheep (if a subtle metaphor was intended here, it doesn't work). He wanders, letting his flock graze, sells wool and occasionally kills and eats one of the sheep. After a night of disturbing dreams in a crumbling church, he encounters a gypsy who prophesies that he will get rich (she wants 10% of his wealth, payable later, really, I'm not making that up). He knows that the universe will make his dreams come true if only he will believe in his dreams and not abandon them. Ah, I wish I could be so trusting.
After a misadventure in Northern Africa in which he sells his sheep and loses the gold to a con artist, he helps a merchant sell crystal to tourists and expand his business and diversify it to include tea, served in little goblets which are also for sale. He earns money, decides not to buy more sheep, but travels instead to see the pyramids where he expects to find treasure, following another dream. Many dreams in this book. He joins a caravan, stops at an oasis, falls in love, gets through a battle between warring tribes, and meets an alchemist. He then has another dream which tells him to return to that church of strange dreams in Spain. He breaks a wall in that church when he returns, which is not so hard to do since it was crumbling in the first place, and finds gold, lots of gold.
Why do I feel so cheated, so spiritually bankrupt after reading this book? Could there be more to life than finding gold? The Alchemist has a five star review on Amazon and has been described as a modern day version of The Little Prince. I will not agree with that, but ten million readers couldn't be wrong.
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