Emma (#65)

And so we shoot up the list for a book in the top 100, one I have long wanted to read: Emma, by Jane Austen. I really enjoyed it. It was everything that I felt was missing from The Breakfast of Champions in my reflection on it – it had a stable plot with characters I could get invested in and it was of a romantic genre which I simply enjoy more than a science fiction one. I knew from my reading of Pride and Prejudice that I also quite enjoy the free indirect discourse which is a cornerstone of Austen’s writing, and so reading the book was a very pleasant experience for me.

I was first and foremost intrigued by Austen’s claim that she is “going to make a heroine whom no one but [herself] will much like.” Emma Woodhouse is described at the opening of the novel as “handsome, clever, and rich,” but has an incredibly rich characterization that goes far beyond those three terms. Her being an unlikable heroine made her a much more dynamic and realistic character than those featured in other romance novels as the reader is able to see the more negative aspects of her personality, but still feel favorably towards her because they can see the positive ones as well. They can understand her more completely than for other characters as they get both the plot line of her actions and the thoughts she has as well.

To give as succinct a summary as I can, the plot is driven by Emma’s belief that she is a wonderful matchmaker. She doesn’t want a husband of her own as her father is ill and she is determined not to leave his home during the remainder of his lifetime. Instead, she befriends Harriet Smith, a young woman of questionable lineage, and determines to assimilate her into the high society to which Emma belongs by way of her friendship/mentorship, and a very well-to-do husband. She convinces Harriet to reject the proposal of Robert Martin (someone who she cared for and who was well within her class) and instead set her sights on Mr. Elton. Emma believes that she has orchestrated a good match and that Mr. Elton is to propose to Harriet, only to be shocked at his proposal to herself instead. She rejects him but the proposal breaks Harriet’s heart (and then continues causing her pain as the woman he soon marries is vicious to her), yet Harriet is so devoted to Emma that their friendship remains strong. Next enters Frank Churchill into the picture, an extremely rich young man Emma’s age who is the stepson of Emma’s dear friend and former governess Miss Taylor/Mrs. Weston. They become friends and are quite flirtatious, though for a period of time Emma believes herself to love him, she decides this is not the case and is happy to discover that Harriet has actually fallen for him – Emma tries to keep herself from actively matchmaking this time, but still strongly encourages Harriet to pursue her unnamed love. Now a man who has been in the novel from the very beginning is Mr. Knightley, her brother-in-law. He is 17 years her elder and has always been a good friend to her, many times serving as her moral compass and guiding her to be a kinder individual as he seems to be the only person capable of noticing her flaws and inclined to point out their existence to her. The plot thickens once more: Churchill reveals a secret engagement he’s had with Jane Fairfax, a woman who Emma didn’t much like and was unknowingly hurting through her flirtatious relationship which occasionally targeted Jane as the object of a joke. Everyone in the town is concerned about Emma, but Emma is concerned about Harriet being hurt, only to realize Harriet never loved Churchill, but rather meant Knightley to be the object of her affection! This tragic miscommunication leads Emma to realizing that she could not bear Knightley and Harriet being together because she was actually in love with him – good thing for Emma, he was in love with her too! Her joy is bittersweet, however, as she has to once more break the news to Harriet that the man she is in love with as encouraged by Emma, actually loves Emma instead – this time their friendship cannot quite survive the news. Emma is also faced with a dilemma, she cannot marry Knightley and leave her father (and to her credit, she never does even consider doing so for more than a moment, and never does). Luckily Knightley is incredibly understanding and already thought of this, and gives up his home to move in with Emma and Mr. Woodhouse. And Harriet too gets her happy ending, marrying Mr. Martin who she rejected so long ago at Emma’s insistence. Happy endings all around.

Unfortunately that summary which I tried to keep as to the point as possible still lasted ages, but the novel was certainly not at a loss for content. To be honest, I rather liked Emma. I certainly disliked her obsession with social class and the fact that she tried to act as a puppeteer of relationships without much consideration for the fact that she may be wrong and hurt someone, she is without doubt headstrong to a fault, and her folly may be that she is blind to her existence as a character who can be influenced or considered by other characters, but rather sees herself as an influence alone. But I am incredibly sympathetic to the fact that her intentions were almost always good ones. She genuinely believed that Harriet underestimated herself and would be happiest by her side in the upper class, and truly only saw the men as potential suitors who were interested in her friend and not in Emma herself. Further, she was truly attentive to Knightley’s criticisms and always felt genuine guilt when becoming aware of her wrongdoing.

Something I really enjoyed in this book outside of the characters themselves and their abilities to seemingly come alive on the page (like Miss Bates and her droning on and on), was the fact that Austen really managed to transport me to another era. Here I was, accustomed to the free and thoughtless speech of the 21st century, and feminism, and less rigid class formalities, suddenly beside Emma 200 years ago. Something as simply as referring to Mr. Knightley only as “Knightley” was seen as unfathomably rude, and being polite in any and every situation was required. Emma, however, was quite a progressive female character, all things considered. Because of her wealth she did not need to consume herself with worries of finding a husband and is quite independent as compared to the other women whose young lives were focused on developing skills like playing instruments in order to attract a wealthy man. It was refreshing that Emma was a character who truly had a lot of wit and spunk to her, but these qualities were certainly the products of the privilege she had in being born into such high society with a guaranteed large inheritance. She was allowed the freedom to have these qualities because the primary constraints of being a woman who is beautiful and elegant and proper were already satisfied by her birthright.

I am a little bit critical at this day and age of the love story presented by Austen both in Emma and similarly in Pride and Prejudice. This seemingly classic story of the woman falling for a man (the only man) who is critical of her, after spending the large majority of the novel presenting a romantic attachment between the two as unthinkable. The happy ending of all loose ends being tied up: Harriet still marrying the kind man who proposed to her so long ago and who she brutally rejected, Emma getting to marry the richest man in town without having to compromise on her values of staying with her father and without any effort of courtship of her own, even Churchill being forgiven by both Emma and Jane for his actions during the unseemly secret engagement so far below his class and getting happily married regardless. A perfect fairy tale by any account. Moreover such because even in spite of every criticism, this novel has remained such a classic and so highly acclaimed since its publishing in the early 1800’s. So there must be something there, something that people across generations can connect to. So what do Jane Austen and her greatest proponents, the Knowers in question, know that has so touched thousands, perhaps millions, of lives?

Knowers know that we must be willing, and eager, to at times suspend our belief or rationality to allow instead for a trust in the fantasies of love, and passion, and a good story.

Wonder Woman

I mean I just… wow. I’m admittedly a tad bit late to the game in seeing this movie, so coming into the theater I had already heard the raving reviews as well as the criticisms, and thought I knew what to expect… I was wrong. There is an almost unfathomably large gap that I discovered between hearing about something, or understanding it theoretically, and actually experiencing it. I knew I ought to expect a movie that was unlike any other I’d seen; I should have been prepared for scenes full of powerful women, scenes somewhat stripped of the lens of the male gaze I’d grown accustomed to seeing movies through (courtesy of the amazing director Patty Jenkins). But actually sitting through them, it’s almost inexplicable.

There were two times during the viewing when I truly got emotional, and I was very surprised to realize that they were both battle scenes. Though I’ve watched action movies and superhero movies in the past, I’ve never enjoyed the blood and gore and typical action type stuff because I couldn’t really connect with them. But these scenes were something else entirely. The movie opens with the first one – where Wonder Woman is a child watching the Amazons train. In that moment, I too was a child. I was right there with her, fascinated by their every move, pretending to throw my own punches, admiring the strength before me. I realized I had never seen something like this, where the women fighting were truly strong and powerful and not just scantily clad barbie dolls. There was real metal armor (granted not much) rather than leather leotards and heels, muscles and fat that weren’t edited out, real blood sweat and tears between a team of women who supported one another and relied on and trusted each other. It was incredible. And then to see them rise up against the invading Germans without hesitation, without question, not drawing back in the slightest or hesitating at the sight of guns, but just fighting for their home. I’d never seen anything like it before.

The second time was more of a moment than a full scene, the moment where Wonder Woman realizes her full ability and rises from the debris against Ares. I really can’t describe how it felt beyond the word inspirational. I saw a woman make a decision, go against the odds, believe in herself, and know her worth. She was not going to simply take a loss and she was not going to settle for anything less than giving it her absolute all. She was a force to be reckoned with and as I watched her plow through her opponents all I could think was “I want to be her.” The fact that she happened to be in physical combat in this scene wasn’t off putting to me nor was it capturing my attention, because I was entirely enthralled by the strength – mental and physical – that she was demonstrating. I just kept thinking how long it took me to recognize this same strength and power within myself in my daily life, and that young girls everywhere can see this and hopefully recognize it within themselves sooner. They won’t need to adapt to the new feeling of seeing a role model like this one on the big screen, but hopefully will have a childhood full of others like this one and better, and will be able to look back at this movie as just the beginning.

To reiterate, this can only be the beginning, and it is an imperfect one at that. I will always praise this movie as being extraordinary, and much like Hidden Figures I was absolutely blown away by the steps towards female empowerment it took. But it is still not without flaws, and to ignore them would be to settle for this as being a golden standard which I don’t believe it to be.

Firstly I thought there was an interesting portrayal of femininity in the movie, though I’m not sure I entirely agree with all aspects of it. To return to the costume design – Wonder Woman’s skin isn’t indestructible like her armor is. So why isn’t she wearing more of it? I also can’t imagine that realistically her hair would do anything but get in the way, yet she takes it out of a pinned hairstyle before each battle. With respect to these two things I understand that they were done in this way in order to match the comics, but I would hope that in the future we can continue to portray women fighting in a more practical manner. As I mentioned it was an incredibly welcome change to have her not portrayed in a sexual way during the movie just because of how she was dressed, and I appreciate that this is also empowering in the sense of saying “yes, I’m a woman, I have skin showing and I am beautiful, and yet I am still strong.” So for the purposes of this movie, great job, but for the purposes of the future portrayal of fighting women in action movies, I think we can do away with cleavage and long flowing hair and replace them with supportive sports bras and pony tails. With respect to the fact that Wonder Woman was driven by traditionally feminine emotions like love and compassion as opposed to the patriotism featured by other on screen heroes, I have a similar view that it is great to portray these emotions and qualities as strengths and represent them alongside accepted masculine traits like strength, but it would also be nice to see a woman who was unapologetically  not traditionally feminine who didn’t melt at the sight of a baby or become distraught at the idea of pain.

The other main criticism I have is with respect to the various cultures and mythologies presented. We see Wonder Woman and the other characters interact with people from a variety of countries who speak a variety of languages. In a few of these scenes, particularly where Wonder Woman is speaking, she actually speaks the other language and there audience gets English subtitles. But throughout the majority of the movie, everything is spoken in English, perhaps with an accent. It would have been much more realistic to have the Germans speaking German, for example, and provide subtitles for all of those scenes as well. Steve Trevor shouldn’t have been able to speak at a German gala with only a bad accent if this were a realistic portrayal, and I’m sure there are plenty of other splendid actors who do in fact speak German who could have played the roll. Some people may complain that subtitles are inconvenient for them, but I am in general of the opinion that subtitles should be provided in cinemas so that those who are deaf or hard of hearing could also have access.

With respect to mythology, though I don’t proclaim myself an expert, my understanding is that the movie, and the comics which precede it, certainly stray from the Greek myths in almost everything aside from the fact that Ares is the God of war. The Amazons were traditionally much more aggressive; Wonder Woman is meant to be the daughter of Hercules, not Zeus; the golden age referred to before Ares brought war to the humans wasn’t actually full of peace and love, but was ruled by the Titans who treated humanity more like puppets or cattle. But this is far from the first movie to stray from tradition and I don’t reasonably expect that every detail be accurate. What did strike me as odd was that after the first few minutes of the movie, the polytheism which was supposed to be represented actually transformed into a judeo christian system. The multitude of Gods were never mentioned again, with the exception of Zeus, Ares, and Wonder Woman. Zeus takes the place of God, Ares of Satan, and Wonder Woman becomes a Christ figure. I actually managed to go most of the movie without noticing this (as I have unfortunately become normalized to this sort of thing in media), but it was during the very scene that I earlier praised for Wonder Woman rising against Ares in a show of strength that the way in which she rose struck me as odd. Throughout other parts of the movie she typically jumps or flies with one or both arms extended in front of her face to protect it, or with her arms down because that is how one would normally jump up, but in this scene she ascends with her arms straight out to the sides and her legs perfectly straight – a cross. And that is when I realized that throughout the movie she was serving as this figure who is prepared to sacrifice her own life at the defense of humanity and with the hope of saving others from the ungodly manipulations of the devil, essentially (as with Greek mythology I am not the best versed in Biblical studies, but I hope I know enough to be correct in this analysis). It definitely saddened me not only that the movie took this form and strayed so far from the polytheistic premise, but perhaps more-so that it took me roughly 2 hours to even notice. At this point in history I think it is about time to start accepting and portraying the plethora of other cultures and languages and religions beyond those in majority in the Westernized world.

To sum it up, I really did enjoy this movie. I felt empowered by it, and if nothing else its very existence serves to identify the gaping hole we currently have in the media when it comes to intersectional representations of people and belief systems. For every criticism I have there was certainly another praise, and overall I think this movie staring strong women and directed by a strong woman in a genre traditionally catered towards and run by men is a wonderful step in the right direction.

The Breakfast of Champions (#473)

So, I began writing this just as I finished the last word of The Breakfast of Champions, by Kurt Vonnegut, and then sat for about five minutes just at a bit of a loss. I’d certainly say that I can’t remember the last book that left me with such a feeling of being unsettled. That’s not to say I feel disturbed by the book, or shaken up, I simply feel a bit bothered, or perturbed. Here is how I read most books: I devour them. Once I start the first word I can’t put the book down until I’ve read the last, unless I absolutely must stop to eat, or sleep. And to be clear that doesn’t just apply to incredibly well written books, but truly any book, even one that I can’t really connect with or don’t particularly enjoy the plot line, I always need to get to the end. That end, in these books, is typically immensely satisfying (be it because I feel some closure in the plot, or because I’m just glad to be done with it, or anywhere between). Here is how I read this book: with many pauses, as if my brain was coming up for air, punctuated with the emotional equivalent of a shrug alongside the last word. In a bit of a daze, would be an apt description for how I feel.

The best way I can summarize the plot line of this book is to say that it is a story about two old men and their journeys until their meeting. The first man, Kilgore Trout, is a pulp science fiction author, and has “doodley-squat” to his name. The second, Dwayne Hoover, is full of “bad chemicals” and yet “fabulously well-to-do.” When they eventually meet, Dwayne is deranged enough to believe that one of Kilgore’s books contains the secrets of life. This book happens to be written as a letter from the Creator of the Universe to the only non-machine free willed person in the Universe. Dwayne then processes this information by attacking many people who he believes to be robots. To be clear, the meeting of the two men occurs roughly 80% of the way into the book. The rest of the novel describes the two men’s lives thus far, as well as a whole bunch of everything else. From very in depth descriptions of characters who play extremely minimal roles to seemingly random asides defining and illustrating terms like apple, and infinity, Vonnegut spares no detail (including many about his own life, going so far as to insert himself into his own book as an omniscient character rather than narrator).

Now, to be candid, I admit that I haven’t read a single other Vonnegut book, which likely contributed to my confusion during the reading of The Breakfast of Champions, which contains references to characters from Vonnegut’s previous books. I’ll also say, if you haven’t quite picked up on it, that I tend on the less favorable side of the like/dislike divide when it comes to how I feel about this as a fictional piece. I found the most engaging character to be the author, and I felt like I couldn’t relax into a story line because there were too many things happening at once, going back and forth and sideways. It simply isn’t my style. However, and this is a big however, I can see how this book can be ranked in the top 500 of the millions of existing books which are up for consideration as being the greatest books ever written. I didn’t like the book as a story; I respect the book and the author for being able to impart some wisdom nonetheless.

I think that the main plot of this novel, of the two men meeting and the chaos that follows, is simply a vessel for a greater message. Before I go on, I’d like to recognize that yes, this is technically true of all novels, but I ask that you bear with me. What I mean to say is that the journey these characters embarked on to get to the climax of the novel was no odyssey. Further, I think there is little to no significance in the fact that these two characters in particular met, or that they met the way they did, or in what occurred after they met. I would argue that it has as much or as little significance as any of the countless summaries of Kilgore’s books strewn throughout the novel. I mean to say that the shape of the story did not have a critical impact on the message being delivered. As I type those words I can hear dozens of English teachers in my past shouting “everything the author writes has significance!” This is true, Vonnegut chose his words and his vessel very carefully, I’m sure. But I think he wrote his book in such a way that everything has simultaneously both infinite and negligible significance. After all, he said as much himself.

Vonnegut, or Philboyd Studge, as he refers to himself in the preface, claims that he sets out with the goal of “[clearing his] head of all the junk in there” for his 50th birthday, as if this will be the last novel he writes (though it wasn’t), and so he wants to get every accumulated bit of writing out of himself. Essentially, this book is a comparable to someone going up into the attic and dredging up some old boxes of stuff with the intent of finding something, though they might only have a vague idea of what, and as a result sitting for hours exclaiming at every tidbit which appears as if it is of great importance. If that comparison didn’t strike your fancy, another would be that this book is like someone shopping at their own garage sale of ideas. And yet, we see Vonnegut, or Studge, say that his own life has been changed by one of his minor characters, who likens every human’s awareness to an unwavering band of light (rather than to some meat machine conglomerate of rubber bits and chemicals, as Vonnegut had thus far been taken to doing).

This is what I do appreciate about the way in which the novel is written: it is true to the idea that each and every thing in it has significance to it. A band of unwavering light, perhaps. I struggle to think of a character that was only mentioned once, without being later reconnected to another through some bizarre relation, or without a thorough description of some seemingly random feature of that person’s existence. At one point in this novel, Vonnegut says that he “[resolves] to shun storytelling. [He] would write about life. Every person would be exactly as important as any other. All facts would also be given equal weightiness. Nothing would be left out” in an effort to allow others, the readers, to make sense of it all. To go back to some earlier points I made, this is why I think the actual main plot line is somewhat meaningless, and why I was left with a dislike of a story that wasn’t at all the main feature of the book.

So, what are the ideas that do hold meaning in this novel? The idea that at the end of the day we are all equal as random compositions of chemicals (or metal), that the black robots were exactly alike the white ones, that everyone is subject to life as determined by chemicals outside of their control (and as such are equally susceptible to the bad chemicals taking over). We as readers are led to question free will and its frailty in the face of these bad chemicals, or the creator of the universe, or the author, or even other characters. And Vonnegut even manages to criticize the socioeconomic cruelties he observes in the American world, as well as the environmental ones. So really, The Breakfast of Champions is full of social criticisms and commentary, sprinkled throughout pages filled with seemingly random asides, strange science fiction stories housed in porn magazines, and the occasional illustration of an asshole.

Having written all of this and spent a few days and reflected a bit more on the novel, here’s the valuable lesson I learned from Vonnegut: I shouldn’t expect the plot line to deliver the “so what” of the story to me. The author has no obligation towards his reader to find a greater meaning in the world and then mold it into an easily digestible quaint little story. Rather, Vonnegut took the opinions he accumulated over the years and presented the reader his own perspective on the world. As he embedded himself in his own novel, we were shown the characters and the world through the eyes of the creator of this particular universe. He pointed us towards the things which stood out to him, and doesn’t try to force feed us some moral to accept. It is my responsibility as the reader to take these facts and the perspective they were presented through, and decide for myself what I think it all means. Not at all a bad lesson to take with me as I continue on this book reading journey of mine. So what is it that Vonnegut has led me to believe that Knowers know?

Knowers know that we must take care to remember that the world exists not only as we see it, but as others do as well, and that it is up to us to bring order to the chaos.

Fahrenheit 451 (#242)

Fahrenheit 451, by Ray Bradbury, is the first book I decided to read and respond to as part of this journey. Not even in the top 100, as ranked by the Greatest Books list, it may seem like an odd choice to start off – enough of a “classic” to be recognizable by name, but the name doesn’t carry as much weight as Don Quixote, or War and Peace, or the Odyssey. So why choose it? I had actually been struck by an image I saw of the cover of the book, which includes a match in place of the “1” in the title, and a spine of gritty striking material like along the side of a matchbook. A book complete with the materials necessary to destroy it. That certainly caught my attention (a match which struck my interest, so to speak), wouldn’t it catch yours?

Personally, I can’t bear the thought of damaging a book. Every since childhood, even the thought of something as seemingly straight forward as writing my name inside the cover of a book I owned would horrify me, let alone bending in the corners to mark my place, or God forbid writing in the margins or taking a highlighter to the page. I’ve always associated the word “book” with words like “pristine” or “perfect;” to say I find them sacred wouldn’t be a stretch. Now, I wouldn’t say that after reading Fahrenheit 451 I’m prepared to set the book ablaze and watch it turn to ash (I actually cringe at the mere idea of it). I will, however, gladly report that reading the book led me to quite a bit of reflection regarding why I feel this way about the perfect preservation of books, and what that instinct is actually geared towards protecting.

Fahrenheit 451 is “the temperature at which book-paper catches fire, and burns,” as revealed to the reader on the very first page. Set in a 24th century wartime, it follows Guy Montag, a fireman whose job is not to put out fires, but set them. To books, specifically. The rationale behind the banning of literature in this society and the burning of any which is found rests on the idea that books and their teachings allow for disagreement, and by eliminating them a government can eliminate conflict. Guy Montag initially subscribes to this philosophy without question, but as the book progresses he finds himself increasingly repulsed by the lack of purpose or joy or life in those who surround him, like his wife who relies on television to be her family, and increasingly drawn towards the forbidden poems and prose within the very books he’s tasked with burning. He eventually acquires a collection of books, which are burned at the hand of another fireman, who he then murders, culminating in his being the subject of a nation-wide manhunt. He does manage to escape and find companionship among fellow outlaws who were forced to leave lives as career intellectuals, where he is introduced to the idea that each man is also the text which he remembers reading. That is, they each embody a book, or an author. All three are one and the same, and so the books can live on through those that read them and lived to tell the tale.

To say that this book got me thinking would be an understatement, and I’m not sure where I should start, so I suppose I’ll start anywhere and go from there. Firstly, if the premise of the burning of these books is to avoid conflict, isn’t it ironic that the society the novel is set in is overcome with children murdering other children for amusement, and war? It would be more accurately described as censorship in an attempt to avoid conflict against the government, but I think that the fact that the majority of characters in the novel are unable to see this and truly accept the fact that books are evil speaks to how effective the removal of these great books actually was. They removed from these people the critical thinking tools that would allow them to see the injustice taking place. They were fed lies about books and war and told to accept them as fact, and pummeled with pleasant media until they were content enough to not want for anything more.

This brings me to my second stream of thought: is this what “make America great again” would entail? Trump’s ideal America, where unbecoming news is flagged as fake, disagreeing facts as alternative, science as fabricated, citizens as insignificant and expendable, dissent as threatening. An America where the general public would choose ignorance as bliss, and lose their humanity to the point of reporting even your loved ones for the sake of an entertaining show, and to ensure that they themselves aren’t targeted. If the banning of books can do that, what is it that books contain without which we lose our humanity, and perhaps further our sense of life?

And so I’ve arrived back to what I started to discuss, what it is that this novel has left me with. As I’d mentioned, something about books has always seemed sacred to me, as if marring the surface would somehow destroy the integrity of the book, and lessen its value. This novel led me to recognize and then challenge that notion, particularly in the final pages. Perhaps the real value of a book lies instead in what it is able to teach you, or even just the fact that it is able to critically engage your mind, while the physical medium through which this is achieved is irrelevant. The ending of Fahrenheit 451 actually lends itself particularly well to the question I’ve set out to answer – what is it that Knowers know? In the novel, the “Knowers” were those who were able to keep a piece of a book with them in memory, because they sought out knowledge in spite of danger. They knew that the benefit of this preservation of knowledge far outweighed the risk and suffering involved, because this knowledge from these books is what gives people their humanity, and their freedom.

Knowers know that the value of literature lies its ability to bring freedom of thought to those who seek it.

The Greatest Books Journey

For centuries, human minds have debated every subject imaginable. We study mathematics and sciences, philosophies and religions, hoping to find… something. Answers, perhaps. Or the path to happiness, or peace. We look within ourselves hoping to find something beyond ourselves. Unfortunately, this introspection rarely leaves us at the same conclusion as others, leading to conflict spanning from the age old questions of ethics, to the more modern debates over how to address climate change, or poverty. I’d like to think, though, that even within this world consisting of questions that only lead to more questions, there must exist some higher truths to be found. How else are we to explain thoughts and ideas that resonate with people not only across the world but also across the eras? Writing has the power to leave a person feeling enlightened, or uplifted, or repulsed, or afraid, or simply ravenous for more. Each piece of writing touches each person differently, and I think it is worthwhile to see how the same works that have touched millions of other lives can touch mine. So I set out on my journey to read the greatest books from the greatest minds, in the hopes that maybe I will be left with the something that I’m looking for, even if I don’t yet know what it is.

What is that something? What is it that Knowers know?