“Politicians and rulers are not the makers of events, but their puppets:”
“It seems to me that we do not know nearly enough about ourselves; that we do not often enough wonder if our lives, or some events and times in our lives, may not be analogies or metaphors or echoes of evolvements and happenings going on in other people? –or animals? — even forests or oceans or rocks?–in this world of ours, or, even, in worlds or dimensions elsewhere.”
(I like the word evolvements, the pieces of evolution in process.)
This was one of the hardest 120 pages I have ever read, especially because my own life has been physically trying the last month and a half. It is about a planet and its sentient population and all other life freezing to death slowly. There is so much density to the story and the concepts are as deep as the snow that engulfs the planet. A great book to read in the middle of a hot summer when there is time to think and dig into the ideas of culture and identity presented here. I will read this one again when my life is a bit more easy.
Sometimes I am not sure I understand all of what she is trying to say. She reaches for the very edges of what it is to be sentient and a part of a world and a culture. We are all a part of something that is so totally beyond our puny abilities to perceive even a tiny of fraction of the whole. But we can know this and still be who we are, conscious of our mortality and the fact that we will never know very much. Doris Lessing makes me want to stay awake for until the last possible moment to see what evolves from my tiny puff of wind.