Goodnite Mister Terzani
by MephisLee
I was randomly googling stuff before I went to bed, when my weary eyes chanced upon the name Tiziano Terzani on one of my book spines. And so it happened that I googled Mr Terzani's name, only to find that the esteemed author had kicked the bucket. Dead.Gone. The page was littered with tributes and obituaries from various notable publishing houses. I felt a sharp pang of disappointment. I had just read Mr Terzani's book "A Fortune-Teller Told Me" at the start of the summer, in my desolate student room in Malaysia. It followed me from cab to LRT ,from my Grandmas dinner table to lunch at Chinese coffee houses. Somehow, his touchingly human descriptions of Asia seemed much more realistic, in this setting, and I was truly glad to be present in Southeast Asia while reading his book. The connections, and descriptions were much more real, more tangible ,than I expected when I first glanced at the book two years ago and dismissed it, in my ignorance as "another Asian story written by yet another gweilo journalist".
I found myself totally absorbed in Mr Terzani's journey across Asia, in his own special way, and was struck in particular, by his uniqness and inquisitive commentary on life and its various strata, pertaining to Asia. Dreading the end of my involving journey with him, I sought out other novels and materials to read, postpoing the inevitable end of his tale.Alas! I couldn't be kept away from him that long, and one drunken morning after returning from the craziness that is Jalan Sultan Ismail on a Saturday night, I again opened Terzani, and lost myself in his words.
His disillusionment with western capitalism, all the way to his embracing of meditation in his latter years, seem to me the epitome of development of the modern human mind. At last I had found a writer that blended in with my ideals almost perfectly-his concern for the materialism and capitalism embraced by Asia, coupled with his search for himself made him me. Yes.
I became Terzani. I was Tiziano Terzani, born September 14 1938, in Florence, Italy. Seldom has the written word seeped through the pages and into my blood, making me part and parcel of its existence. "A Fortune Teller Told Me" left an indelible mark on me, unique only to me, in my own understanding and born of my idealistic dreams as an individual. I had thought that that part of me would forever be Tiziano Terzani. Well, on July 28, 2004 Tiziano Terzani passed away.For a wild moment, after reading his obituary, I thought that I, Tiziano, had died too.Then I realized my absurdity! Terzani really is dead.But his ideals and outlooks live on forever in me and all others who understood or interpreted his journey- his life's journey in their own particular way.
Goodnite Mister Terzani!!
by MephisLee
I was randomly googling stuff before I went to bed, when my weary eyes chanced upon the name Tiziano Terzani on one of my book spines. And so it happened that I googled Mr Terzani's name, only to find that the esteemed author had kicked the bucket. Dead.Gone. The page was littered with tributes and obituaries from various notable publishing houses. I felt a sharp pang of disappointment. I had just read Mr Terzani's book "A Fortune-Teller Told Me" at the start of the summer, in my desolate student room in Malaysia. It followed me from cab to LRT ,from my Grandmas dinner table to lunch at Chinese coffee houses. Somehow, his touchingly human descriptions of Asia seemed much more realistic, in this setting, and I was truly glad to be present in Southeast Asia while reading his book. The connections, and descriptions were much more real, more tangible ,than I expected when I first glanced at the book two years ago and dismissed it, in my ignorance as "another Asian story written by yet another gweilo journalist".
I found myself totally absorbed in Mr Terzani's journey across Asia, in his own special way, and was struck in particular, by his uniqness and inquisitive commentary on life and its various strata, pertaining to Asia. Dreading the end of my involving journey with him, I sought out other novels and materials to read, postpoing the inevitable end of his tale.Alas! I couldn't be kept away from him that long, and one drunken morning after returning from the craziness that is Jalan Sultan Ismail on a Saturday night, I again opened Terzani, and lost myself in his words.
His disillusionment with western capitalism, all the way to his embracing of meditation in his latter years, seem to me the epitome of development of the modern human mind. At last I had found a writer that blended in with my ideals almost perfectly-his concern for the materialism and capitalism embraced by Asia, coupled with his search for himself made him me. Yes.
I became Terzani. I was Tiziano Terzani, born September 14 1938, in Florence, Italy. Seldom has the written word seeped through the pages and into my blood, making me part and parcel of its existence. "A Fortune Teller Told Me" left an indelible mark on me, unique only to me, in my own understanding and born of my idealistic dreams as an individual. I had thought that that part of me would forever be Tiziano Terzani. Well, on July 28, 2004 Tiziano Terzani passed away.For a wild moment, after reading his obituary, I thought that I, Tiziano, had died too.Then I realized my absurdity! Terzani really is dead.But his ideals and outlooks live on forever in me and all others who understood or interpreted his journey- his life's journey in their own particular way.
Goodnite Mister Terzani!!
posted by MephisLee @ 1:54 AM
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