Wind, Sand and Stars

Wind, Sand And Stars
by Antonio de Saint-Exupery

Reviewed by: Alvan

The key themes of Saint-Ex's 1937 novel echo in his latter, most famous work "The Little Prince" (1943), in the lyrical, poetic passages about the joys and hazards of flying in the early years of commercial air mail, in the philosophical reflections of Man's relationship with his fellow men, in the anguished pleas for an end to the cruelty, bigotry and suffering humanity needlessly inflicts upon itself.

"Why should we hate one another? We all live in the same cause, are borne through life on the same planet, form the crew of the same ship. Civilisation may, indeed, compete to bring forth new syntheses, but it is monstrous that they should devour one another."

However, the last third of the book (from which the above quote is taken) seems disjointed and detached from the earlier parts. He describes his part and experiences in the Spanish Civil War, and interpersed this with his observations of the morality, purpose and futility of war.

And in his thoughts and tribute to those pilots who perished in the line of duty, one feels prophecy and poignancy in those lines.

The most compelling part of the book, for me, is the account of his crash landing in the desert, where he and his flying companion had a harrowing escape from death. Surviving the crash, but nearly dying of thirst, exhaustion and dehydration from aimless wandering, seeing mirages of water and rescuers (either it's really funny or my sense of perverse humour acting up again), and the eventual salvation by a passing Arab caravan.

What do you think of when you find yourself stranded in the middle of a desert, with hardly any water for three days, near certain death? When talk turns to "Thank God we've got a gun"? Is it possible to find a kind of peace, to accept the ultimate end without regrets and bitterness? What are all the material possessions and gains in the world compared to the things that truly matter?

Saint-Ex made me think, as always. I have to admit I've yet to come close. Thought I had, and the thought was real enough to make it no different from the actual thing. Faced an open casket. Been frightened, sad and angry by the thought of it. But no, never close to it in the most practical sense.

But now, I am accepting of it. The beginning and the ending are simple. It's what we do in between which is not. And which is important. And which is in our hands.

"...I know what I love. It is life."