Charms in the Island by Aldous Huxley

Island by Aldous Huxley || Goodreads || Amazon

Aldoux Huxley, for those who might not remember, is the writer of Brave New World (one of my favorite dystopian novels). An English writer who lived from 1894 to 1963 and wrote more than 50 books! 

If you read Brave New World, then the Island definitely feels familiar in some places (although one is dystopian and the other is utopian), but it's generally not repetitive and pretty interesting. Huxley wrote Brave New World 30 years before writing the Island and they were both during vastly different places in his life. In fact, Island is the last book he published and he wrote it after he was diagnosed with laryngeal cancer. 

The Island follows the story of Will Farnaby, an English journalist who is (intentionally) shipwrecked on the Island of Pala. He is there to convince the Rani (the queen of the island) to sell their oil to Joe Aldehyde, a British Lord. There is also Murugan, the prince of the island who will assume power in a few days when he becomes of age. Both Murugan and the queen were raised outside of Pala, so they are highly westernized and dislike Palanese culture. The Rani believes she is on a divine mission and that everyone on the island is misguided, while Murugan can’t wait to sell out and ‘modernize’ the island with fancy automobiles and all sorts of other material luxury goods. 

In reality, Pala is way ahead of its time. The Palanese seem to have achieved perfect living practices to prosper as a community. They have the best of both worlds as they tap into western knowledge, literature, and scientific innovations, but infuse it into their own systems of eastern education and spirituality. Someone in the book observes, “So long as it [Pala] remains out of touch with the rest of the world, an ideal society can be a viable society,” however, in the post-WWII era they are living in, that is not an easy task, and the Palanese know that the future doesn’t hold much kindness for them.

Will is not an initially likable protagonist, though he somewhat grows on you. A description that Dr. Robert gives of him early on is very fitting, “The physique of a Messiah. But too clever to believe in God or be convinced of his own mission. And too sensitive, even if he were convinced, to carry it out. His muscles would like to act and his feelings would like to believe; but his nerve endings and his cleverness won’t allow it.”

He is cynical and apathetic and repeats several times in the book that he won’t take yes for an answer. He is highly skeptical about the utopian character of the island, and it takes a long time for the Palanese to wear him down. He is stubborn about his cynicism and so staunch in his belief that the Palanese are doomed that after seeing, first-hand, the ecstasy of a youth who praises the yoga of love, Will observes, “It was profoundly touching. But he refused to be touched. Noli me tangere—it was a categorical imperative.”

Throughout most of his stay in Pala, he hangs unto his “Gray Life” plague, his paranoia, and his disbelief in the possibility of good. He is proud and angst-ridden in a cliche way. He needs help but will never “stoop that low” to ask for it. But towards the end of the story, he reaches a level of self-awareness that endears him to the reader. He sees his before-Pala self as a “muddy filter” and describes it as, “The poor idiot hadn’t wanted to take yes for an answer in any field but the aesthetic. And all the time he had been denying, by the mere fact of being himself, all the beauty and meaning he so passionately longed to say yes to. ”

Although as a character he is not immediately likable, as a literary hero, he is brilliantly written. Huxley describes a scene for example, “Will questioned with that innocent air of total ignorance which he had found by long experience to be the best way of eliciting information from the simpleminded and the self-important.”

And because we see the island through the lens of Will, despite having a third person omniscient narrator, this wit seeps into the descriptions of the other characters. A good depiction of the Rani and Murugan is as follows:

“Murugan, meanwhile, had pushed up a chair. Without so much as a backward glance—regally confident that someone must always, in the very nature of things, be at hand to guard against mishaps and loss of dignity—the Rani sat down with all the majestic emphasis of her hundred kilograms.”

Another equally humorous passage:

“Doctor’s orders are doctor’s orders,” cried the Rani, overacting the role of royal personage deigning to be playfully gracious.

One of the things in the book that I loved conceptually were the mynah birds. The islanders have trained local birds to repeat “Attention” and “Here and now!” because, as Mary Sarojini explains, “That’s what you always forget, isn’t it? I mean, you forget to pay attention to what’s happening. And that’s the same as not being here and now.”

Palanese philosophy is ever-present in the book and I highlighted a lot of things because they seemed like generally useful principles to live by. For example, in one section, Susila is explaining to Will why it’s important to understand what it means to truly love someone and she says, “Because I always have the same name and the same nose and eyes, it doesn’t follow that I’m always the same woman. Recognizing that fact and reacting to it sensibly—that’s part of the Art of Loving.”

Some other gems:

• “It isn’t a matter of forgetting. What one has to learn is how to remember and yet be free of the past. How to be there with the dead and yet still be here, on the spot, with the living.”
• “When in doubt,” said Dr. Robert, “always act on the assumption that people are more honorable than you have any solid reason for supposing they are. ”
• “[O]ne has no right to inflict one’s sadness on other people. And no right, of course, to pretend that one isn’t sad. One just has to accept one’s grief and one’s absurd attempts to be a stoic.”
• “Never give children a chance of imagining that anything exists in isolation. Make it plain from the very first that all living is relationship.”
• “Balance, give and take, no excesses—it’s the rule in nature and, translated out of fact into morality, it ought to be the rule among people.”
• “We shall be permitted to live on this planet only for as long as we treat all nature with compassion and intelligence.”

One thing that I appreciate about Huxley is that although he is not a contemporary writer, he never feels inaccessible. On the contrary, I really enjoy his writing because not only is it witty and philosophical, but it also gets quite lyrical at times. For example, the second chapter of the book ends with, “so that the whole universe seemed to be fairly splitting its sides over the enormous joke of existence.”

Later in chapter four, we have, “There were daisies in the grass and dandelions, and across the water towered up the huge church, challenging the wildness of those soft April clouds with its austere geometry. Challenging the wildness, and at the same time complementing it, coming to terms with it in perfect reconciliation.”

And its philosophy, at times a little convoluted, is still profound. Will is given a booklet called,  “Notes on What's What, and What It Might be Reasonable to do about What's What” on Palanese philosophies in order for him to know “what always and everywhere has to be done by anyone who has a clear idea about what’s what.”

This booklet has charms like:

• “If I only knew who in fact I am, I should cease to behave as what I think I am; and if I stopped behaving as what I think I am, I should know who I am.”
• “Knowing who in fact we are results in Good Being, and Good Being results in the most appropriate kind of good doing. But good doing does not of itself result in Good Being.”
• “[G]etting to know oneself to the point where one won’t be compelled by one’s unconscious to do all the ugly, absurd, self-stultifying things that one so often finds oneself doing.”

And of course, Huxley has pages full of criticisms on materialism, consumerism, organized religion, obligatory suffering, codependence in relationships, and nuclear families. And for the most part, they are quite poignant social commentaries. 

For the Palanese (and Huxley), “Armaments, universal debt, and planned obsolescence—those are the three pillars of Western prosperity. If war, waste, and moneylenders were abolished, you’d collapse.”

One ruthless recipe Susila gives of the European family is, “Take one sexually inept wage slave,” she went on, “one dissatisfied female, two or (if preferred) three small television addicts; marinate in a mixture of Freudism and dilute Christianity; then bottle up tightly in a four-room flat and stew for fifteen years in their own juice.” In contrast, the Palanese recipe for a happy family is, “Take twenty sexually satisfied couples and their offspring; add science, intuition and humor in equal quantities; steep in Tantrik Buddhism and simmer indefinitely in an open pan in the open air over a brisk flame of affection.”

And some other pointed monologues about the lack of thinking and reason, the focus on medications and not cures, the emphasis on theory but the lack of practical implications, use of propaganda and Pavlovian techniques for brainwashing and benefiting tyrants rather than encouraging compassion and trust etc. etc. 

Some similarities that I caught between the Island and the Brave New World:

• Drug use – in one, it’s a tool for enlightenment, in the other it’s for pacifying people
• Big families — in one, it’s to have healthier children with more outlets and role models, in the other it’s to erase individual thinking
• Free contraception — in one, it’s to encourage free sexual expression and agency, in the other it’s to increase hedonism and promiscuity 
• Omnipresent slogans – in one, the mynah birds encourage mindfulness and compassion, in the other hypnopædia is used to indoctrinate children

Overall, I would definitely recommend it as a book, and encourage you to also read Brave New World if you haven't. The experience can be eye-opening and awe-inspiring at the same time. 

Love, Grandpa

The man that had the most influence in my life is without a doubt, my grandfather. It’s hard to describe the impact he has had on me and who I am turning out to be. Even though he’s not here, everything he has said to me, everything we have done together is preserved. In photographs, in old diary entries, and of course, in our collective memory of him. I cling on to the bits and pieces I remember because there is no possibility for new memories. 

Today I was asked what I admired the most about my grandfather. I couldn’t really come up with an answer because he was a whole person and I admired him as a whole. All I had for all he was. When I think about him, I never think about one quality that jumps out to me – he was everything I admired all at once. He did have flaws, and I recognized them, but as the metaphor goes, you can never justify sinking a ship with a thousand innocent people and only a handful of criminals. 

He was human. Very human actually. But the best kind of human I have known in my life. He was very upright, righteous to a fault almost. He had a sharp sense of anger – he meant what he said and he wasn't really afraid of anyone. He was honorable, proud. Proud not in an arrogant sense, but dignified. He carried himself a certain way. He didn’t look down on anyone and didn't let anyone look down on him. He was extremely selfless – a friend of a friend of a friend could come to him and ask for a favor and he wouldn’t blink an eye. He loved helping people, he was very generous. 

I’d love to expand on all these things. I have memories associated with each. Little vignettes from his life that I hope to put together sometime soon. Before it escapes us. But for now, I want to focus on two things. 

When I couldn’t answer the one thing I admired about him, I was then asked what I would consider his gift for me to be. What did my grandfather leave me? 

After some thought, I have come to the conclusion that the two most important things he left me are these: 1) A solid foundation in my childhood through being a great role model, and 2) the ability to love and be loved in return.

I don’t know what else I could ask for. He showed me both how I should be, and how people should be. He wasn’t a very religious person but he believed more strongly than most people I have seen. And he lived his belief. He knew how to treat people. One thing he told me repeatedly is that respect isn't something people deserve just by being old. You respect everyone who respects you. Doesn’t matter if they are a child – if they respect you, you respect them and you never abuse or exploit their respect for you. 

Especially as a girl, I am eternally grateful for my grandpa. For empowering me and never making me feel like I was somehow less. It’s rare for us to escape the norms and mindsets of the cultures we live in. “Educate yourself my dear, win your own bread,” he would say. He had these epithets for me that were like, “my noble lamb” or “my clever secret-keeper,” and I always felt extremely valued in his presence. And he loved my grandma the same way. And my mom. And my aunt. And my uncle. And I could see it. I grew up around it. His love, the full scope of his emotions, were always outside of him. He didn’t keep it inside in some immature way of proving his masculinity. He was the best man I know and the man I respect the most. 

Now all this prelude leads to the second point – that is, the ability to love and be loved in return. My grandfather loved me. And it wasn’t the kind of love you expect from people who you know are supposed to love you. It never felt conditional. It never felt contrived. It never felt uneasy or cumbersome. It felt soothing and natural. It nourished me, it filled me with light. 

I took it for granted for a long time – because it was so ever present. It reached me across the ocean. It filtered out of phone calls and low quality video chats. And when he passed away, I realized how much I had gotten used to it. This lifeline almost, or a shield, of unconditional love, was cut off from my life, and I didn’t know what to do. How do you cope with something like that? Going from a constant and stable supply of love and support to this emptiness. Like in a video game where when you receive a certain number of hits, your defenses go down, and you need to wait 60 seconds for them to recharge but you are the most vulnerable in that 60 seconds. That’s how it was. That’s how it is, now, still. But that’s the reason I have started getting help, and have been trying to rebuild this stability for myself. 

My grandfather loved me so much, that when I was 11 and he took me to the dentist, he cried. He didn’t like to see me hurting – even when it was a tiny syringe that would numb my mouth so I wasn't in bigger pain. He couldn't stay in the office with me, because he couldn't look. So he had to go downstairs and smoke a cigarette to calm his nerves. 

That’s the love he raised me with. And I am grateful because through him, I know how it feels to be loved. And I can’t ever repay that. I can only hope to pass it onto the people around me. I want the people I love to feel that love in their bones. I want them to think – this feels right, this feels wholesome. 

Because that’s how I felt and that’s what felt right. And it showed me two things. 1) That kind of love is possible to give, and 2) that kind of love is possible to receive. 

I had been doubting this for the past two years. A lot of things happened that made me feel as though I would never be loved again. Some of that is typical teenage angst I guess. But the lasting repercussions are hard to overcome. Your own mind can be a dangerous place to be. A labyrinth you can’t escape sometimes. And I think that’s what therapy has been helping with. To untangle all those knots and let me navigate my own thoughts. 

Today I could say that I was worthy of that immense love. It was possible to love me that much. And nobody should be able to make me believe anything else. 

That’s my grandfather’s biggest gift to me.

Post-election God Consciousness

This morning, on November 9th, after I had woken up, eaten a hearty breakfast, processed the election result from the previous night, gone to my computer science class (and listened to the teacher, who’s been teaching for 12 years, deliver a short and emotional speech on treasuring the differences in his class, and valuing the various perspectives we bring), left my class, trekked to a nearby cafe on campus, and was in line waiting to buy a cup of chamomile tea, my phone vibrated with a text from a friend, “Can I ask you something?”

I told her, of course! Go for it. So she asked, “How can you still have faith? How can you believe in goodness in people and the universe and a god if this happened? I can't pray I just feel empty.”

She was referring to the election. To the man we have elected as our leader for the four next years. To the man who overtly hates on practically every marginalized community in this country. To the man who has promised to enact disgusting and dangerous policies that would target Muslims, punish Muslims, surveil Muslims etc.

I am a Muslim. Political identity, cultural connotations, spirituality, hijab, ritual and all. I am a 19-year-old college student, who tries to actively identify as a Muslim. Who looks visibly Muslim. Who tries to be the best Muslim she can be.

And part of that is feeling at peace with this result. With what has happened. Submitting to God, and God’s will. “Muslim” is, literally, someone who reaches peace through submission to God. When I read the result last night, I told myself, “Indeed my Lord is with me. He will guide me through.” And I know that might not be a common or intuitive response to what happened. A lot of us want to grieve or be angry, a lot of us feel scared and threatened. And that’s all valid. But I think before we turn to despair, we should turn to God.

That’s why I told my friend that for me, faith is something that’s so much bigger than any politics or any problems. Because God is greater than all of those. God is so absolute – nothing in existence can happen without His permission. Have we wrapped our minds around that? Nothing happens without God’s continuous involvement in it.

From the smallest thing to the biggest. From a tiny ant that’s part of a huge colony, who’s carrying a tiny crumb back home in the dark of the night under a rock, to entire galaxies, to black holes, to stars, to supernovae, to asteroids, to entire concepts of existence like “time” and “space.”

All of those things exist with relation to each other. They are all interconnected. The universe has to be a certain way for an apple to grow. Not just the sun, the air, the nutrients in the soil, but also in macro and micro universes – everything has to happen according to some order. Just to produce a simple apple. The germination of the seed, the replication of the DNA, the inner workings of a flower that becomes a fruit. AND also the inhabitability of the Earth, our distance from the Sun. The atmosphere, the element percentages of the air. They all have to be the way they are now for us to have apples. And we have had apples for millennia. We have had life, we have had order, we have had “laws” for billions of years. And they all continue to exist.

I continue to be able to write this post. Gravity remains as it always has. We are still in orbit. The weather is perfect. My brain and my hands and my body are all working in tandem. Every instant. Every synapse – fired in a fraction of a millisecond. It keeps happening, and it keeps happening perfectly.

How can I look at all of that, and not believe? For the Creator of one apple must be the Creator of the entire universe, of all that exists, to make that apple exist. And if I believe in such an absolute being, what is Donald Trump gonna do to me? What is a person? What is, even millions of people? Who might be threatening me. Who might hate me. What power do they have when they can’t even make a simple thing. When they can’t create anything. When they have no power over anything. When people are so weak, so powerless, that they fall sick to microbes they can’t see, and are so affected by everything around them. When they can’t control even themselves sometimes.

No matter how powerful Trump might look, he’s nothing. He’s powerless. He might have an immense amount of money and he might have hundreds of millions of supporters. But at the end of the day, is he in charge of rising the Sun every morning? Can he make anything from nothing? Can he control anything that’s not superficial – that doesn’t give him only the illusion of power? He says it himself, he is prey to his own feelings. He can’t even control how he reacts to some things. Disgustingly so. Why should I be afraid of someone like that? When the God of the entire universe has my back?

And so, that’s why I still have faith. And as much as there are people who hate me, there are as many, if not more, people who love me. And everything happens for a reason even if I can’t pinpoint it at the moment it happens. I am small and weak. I can’t see or know of anything except the present. I can’t look at the universe except in linear time and space. But God transcends the bounds and limits of Creation. And God is all knowing. And that gives me security. He knows what will happen. And He never tests me with anything I can’t handle. And God loves me. God loves me so much. God loves me so much that He created me and keeps creating me every instant of my existence, He feeds me, He surrounds me with people I love, He puts His love in my heart. And really, that’s all I need.