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Post by Deleted on Apr 2, 2010 8:41:08 GMT
There has been a massive amount of literature produced over the years concerning gloomy feelings, the sensation of not fitting in, manic episodes and severe depression caused by not just exile but even voluntary expatriation. And even adventurers looking for the new and exotic sometimes have the blues. This is a different feeling from the often happier adventures discussed in other threads such as Books that take you elsewhere or Travel books. From Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness to Alex Garland’s The Beach, it is a subject that fascinates me, probably because it is so easy for me to identify with many of the situations. I know that even a lot of non voyagers are avid readers of these books, because they often reinforce all of the reasons that one may have not to travel – not just heat and disease, but just the idea of losing the familiar landmarks of one’s life, comfort foods, background noise, even the size and arrangement of the rooms. While this charges the batteries of some people, it plunges others into an unshakeable morose state. There is also the category of books written by people who were born and raised in places like British India or French Indochina or North Africa and who were later “repatriated” to a mother country they had never known. Generally not a nice feeling… Any other fans of such books out there?
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Post by Deleted on Apr 2, 2010 10:26:32 GMT
One of my favorite novels is Peter Matthiessen's At Play in the Fields of the Lord (also,one of my husbands). This book had a profound and exhilirating effect on me with it's vivid descriptions of the Amazon and the characters in the novels attempt to conquer and the consequences of. Paul Theroux's The Mosquito Coast also comes to mind. (Same part of the world).
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Post by lagatta on Apr 2, 2010 12:38:25 GMT
Obviously we think of Stefan Zweig, whose psychosis was real, but whose book preceding it was on the contrary a "honeymoon of exile" book praising Brazil as a land of racial harmony and promise: Brasilien: ein Land der Zukunft (Brazil: Land of the Future), contrasted with his "The World of Yesterday" (Die Welt von Gestern) about Vienna (and its empire) at the turn of the last century.
Zwieig's fear of the Nazis conquering the entire world was not psychotic, of course, but he was unable to feel in peace enough to create or simply live in his Brazilian exile. And sadly, his much younger wife followed him in suicide.
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Post by Deleted on Apr 2, 2010 13:09:10 GMT
At the risk of going slightly off topic, this might be a good time to mention the « Paris syndrome » about which some of you may have read. This is a psychiatric disorder that afflicts mostly Japanese women visiting or living in Paris. The symptoms are diverse, ranging from dizziness and sweating to delusions of persecution, hallucinations and profound depression. It was detected more than 20 years ago by Professor Hiroaki Ota, a psychiatrist at the principal mental hospital in Paris, when it was determined that far more Japanese tourists required psychiatric help in Paris than in any other city or country that they visited. Professor Ota wrote a book about it (in Japanese only), and there has also been a French novel by Philippe Adam which was made into a Japanese film in 2008. The principal victims of the condition are from upper middle class families. Explanation of the causes follows two different theories. One is that the contrast is overwhelming between the idealized vision that the women have of France and the extremely tawdry reality. In a documentary about the syndrome, one of the girls said “ I am ashamed not to be happy in a country where everything is designed for happiness.” The other theory is just an extreme form of culture shock – the Japanese very rarely think in terms of “ I” so it is extremely difficult to fit into one of the most individualistic societies in the world. The Japanese are also used to being able to talk without being interrupted, because the verb comes at the end of the sentence. The fact that the French interrupt them (and each other) all the time is very difficult to accept. The rapid fluctuations of mood, tense and attitude in French speech – especially in humor – present an enormous difficulty as well. The Japanese with this condition who live in Paris are incapable of any social life and rarely go outside. However, the problem is generally cured by just returning home. If this continues in the 21st century, I think it could be a great sourse of literary inspiration. Conversely, certain French visitors to India suffer from a delirious exaltation due to having their senses overwhelmed. This has been the subject of a book also.
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Post by lagatta on Apr 2, 2010 13:31:40 GMT
Bit different from the Stendhal Syndrome, finding oneself amidst the wonders of ancient, medieval and Renaissance Italy, as in a painting... found among those who have studied the classics and art history.
Even between anglophones (or, I imagine, Dutch speakers in Belgium) and francophones, there is a very big difference in "interruption". Francophones get very annoyed at anglophones who drone on and are offended if anyone interrupts, and anglophones think francophones are rude for always butting in. And that isn't a cultural difference as huge as France and Japan.
There is an odd mutual admiration between France and Japan, I suppose due to an aesthetic approach to life on some level, which is strange seeing how different the cultures are. And true, many people know France and in particular Paris through films that are either idealised or, if they describe a more "working-class" reality, are hopelessly out of date.
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Post by bixaorellana on Apr 2, 2010 16:56:07 GMT
Extremely interesting topic! Yes, I was always a fan of such books and find that living in a country other than my native one deepens the experience of reading those books. the idea of losing the familiar landmarks of one’s life ... charges the batteries of some people, [yet] plunges others into an unshakeable morose state. I think one thing that would need to be factored in would be how immersed a foreigner is in a new culture. Students, with their built-in peer groups, youth and flexibility, or workers in fields where they'd meet and socialize with many of the locals are probably at lower risk for culture-shock induced depression. Possibly those who most idealized a country and fantasized a wonderful new life there are most likely to be shocked and disappointed. Perhaps that partly explains the reaction of the upper middle class Japanese women, people who might well be uncomfortable in parts of their own country. Added to that would be the leisure factor -- there is only so much shopping and sight-seeing one can do and the alcohol-based socializing ex-pats can fall into is hardly a solution to boredom and consequent depression.
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Post by Deleted on Apr 2, 2010 17:26:03 GMT
I read James Michener's The Drifters when it was already completely outdated and quaint, but even that book covered some of the universal themes of 'what am I doing here?' I seem to recall that it started out on the Costa del Sol in Spain, back when it was first beginning to become a tourist mecca (the idea of such a place being a discovery! ) and I think it ended up in the Portuguese paradise of Mozambique. How things have changed!
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Post by joanne28 on Apr 5, 2010 15:36:51 GMT
This is such an interesting topic, particularly the "Paris Syndrome". I suspect expectations may have something to do with it also.
For me, the first time I visited London was exhilarating. It was exactly what I expected but more so, if that makes sense.
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Post by lagatta on Apr 20, 2010 2:55:50 GMT
I felt the same in Paris. It wasn't disappointing, because I was well aware of both the problems and the innovations of contemporary France. But I felt as if I was going into the centre of a city after only dwelling in its suburbs.
A Londoner friend told a story about travelling round town and mentioning all sorts of neighbourhoods and districts that once again, we knew through novels and essays.
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