Beware of this Angel

Unlike many of my favorite writers, Paulo Coelho is simply one whom I need not justify why he made that list, as well as, I’m sure, your list too. He is one of the most beloved writers of our time, and with The Zahir, he has reminded us why.

I admire people who can say the most sensible and profound things with the simplest words in the most beautiful poetic prose that would just make you pause and agree to the truth that you already know, but never really acknowledged or mentioned because it has always been there anyway, i.e. Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Jack Johnson, Dave Matthews, John Mayer, Mitch Albom, Jewel, the writers of Grey’s Anatomy and Friends, and my personal favorite, Ms. Vera Ruivivar (hihihi! APPLAUSE! Ate Jing, see how much I love you!! You’re on my list you know!).

There is no doubt Paulo Coelho is the king of that. It is why, like its author, The Alchemist is so loved as well. A lot of times it’s been said that it’s a fairytale for adults. It is the perfect bedtime story for the dreamer in every one of us.

Far from the hills of Andalusia, Paulo, (I was in an online discussion of The Alchemist and he himself was one of the instructors. I started by addressing him as Mr. Coelho, but he would post replies to everyone with Paulo, so by the end of the session, everyone addressed him by his first name, and I’ve gotten used to that hehehe.), anyway, Paulo brings us to the opulent world of a renowned writer, who incidentally, made his big break by writing about a shepherd boy in search for his treasure which he has dreamt to be in Egypt (familiar?). He has been living in Paris, in a very open and liberal 10-year relationship with his wife, Esther, who was a war correspondent. One fateful night she disappears, with her passport missing with her. She was believed to have left with a boy from Kazakhstan who goes by the name of Mikhail. Our narrator tries to move on, for a while enjoying the thought of his new freedom, until he is consumed by the Zahir, the obsession to seek for his wife, to find answers to his questions. While the Zahir has filled him up, he does move forward, continuing to do the duties of a highly acclaimed writer, having a relationship with a French actress, Marie, who, despite her youth, was very much mature, and was there with him in his moments of triumphs and despair. He encounters the mysterious boy Mikhail, and through him, he learns of his wife. And from him, he learns about the energy of love. And in his search for his wife, he more importantly finds himself.

As always, you have to have your pad and pen for the endless quotable quotes. A few times I needed a tissue to wipe my tears. It is funny because the times that I cried were with regards to the narrator and his girlfriend Marie. They were together until the time he has finally decided to go after his wife, after he has closed all doors leading to his personal history. And, of course, Marie was part of that. I was always on the narrator’s side, even when he begins to understand where he has gone wrong, and sees all the reasons behind his wife’s actions, and lets the Zahir fill him, bringing him to a state of madness, and to a state of holiness. But Esther has hurt my protagonist, even to the very end, she hurts him one more time. But his Zahir was not his search for her, rather, it was his love. So comes the happy ending.

But I sympathize with the character of Marie. Perhaps because she is beautiful, intelligent and mature, who understood her lover’s obsession, but tried to fight for her love for him until she no longer could, even if there had been no hope in the first place. She was a young woman in love with an older man who, in spite of all their experiences together, did not seem to reciprocate this feeling to her (Kerol, I wish you knew that that is kind of familiar too for me. Damn I miss you a lot!). He loved her too though, but she was not the love of his life.

It is always a pleasure to finish a Paulo Coelho novel. When you finally close the book, you are literally changed one way or another.

Excited for The Devil and Miss Prym, I just got it. But I can’t read Paulo Coelho back to back, because he’s all I’ll ever want to read, and that is unfair to my other beloved writers.