Tracks

I'm trying to get back into the habit of writing and blogging. I used to blog a lot about books I was reading. So I give you my latest book, Tracks, by Robyn Davidson.

I will start by saying, yes, I did read this book only after seeing the movie. But it just seemed like such an intriguing story. The vibe I got from the movie was, a girl who kind of hates people and would rather be alone decides to walk across the desert by herself. She walks 1700 miles with four camels and her dogs. She learns a lot about herself. And I thought, I kind of hate people sometimes. I like being alone. I want to read more about what it was like and what she learned. I figured the book would be more accurate, less about the romantic story of it, and would have more internal monologue. I was right. It was great. Yes I did have a few moments where I thought, "I should leave and live in the desert by myself." This was followed quickly by, "thats a terrible idea, I would actually die."

Turns out what I liked best about the book was not about the desert, or the camels, or the trip itself. I liked hearing her thoughts and feelings. I could relate to them more than I could relate to the being in the desert or living with camels. The trip was viewed as such a huge, romantic undertaking, even back in the 1970s when it happened. It became this big thing, whether it was meant to or not.

The parts that I like best actually take place before she even sets off into the desert:

"During this time, a kind of misery, a feeling of defeat, was building almost unnoticed in my head. The joy of being on my own, of living in a fantasy place, and of dreaming about the trip without ever coming to terms with the reality of it was beginning to pall. It dawned on me that I was procrastinating, pretending, play-acting, and that was the source of my discomfort. If everyone else believed I would eventually take the camels out into the desert, I did not. It was something I could put at the edge of my mind to play with when I had nothing better to do. It gave me superficial identity, or structure, which I could crawl into when I was down, and wear like a dress."

"And I recognized then the process by which I had always attempted difficult things. I had simply not allowed myself to think of the consequences, but had closed my eyes, jumped in, and before I knew where I was, it was impossible to renege. I was basically a dreadful coward, I knew that about myself. The only way I could overcome this was to trick myself with that other self, who lived in a dream and fantasy and who was annoyingly lackadaisical and unpractical. All passion, no sense, no order, no instinct for self-preservation. That's what I had done, and now that cowardly self had discovered an unburnt bridge by which to return to the past. As Renata Adler writes in Speedboat: 'I think when you are truly stuck, when you have stood still in the same spot too long, you throw a grenade in exactly the spot you were standing in, and jump, and pray. It is the momentum of last resort.' Yes, exactly, only now after all this time, I had discovered that the grenade was a dud, and I could hope right back to that same old spot which was safety. The excruciating thing was that those two selves were now warring with each other. I wanted desperately to find those camels, and I wanted desperately not to find them."

It is a great book. And the pictures Rick Smolan took for National Geographic are beautiful. (the photos are all linked to the sites from which I got them)

"The trip was easy. It was no more dangerous than crossing the street, or driving to the beach, or eating peanuts. The two important things that I did learn were that you are as powerful and strong as you allow yourself to be, and that the most difficult part of any endeavour is taking the first step, making the first decision."