“In one instant, the horizon became a faint line suspended in the darkness, and then the line was drawn upward, higher and higher. It was as if a giant hand had stretched down from the sky and slowly lifted the curtain of night from the face of the earth. It was a magnificent sight, far greater in scale, as I said earlier, than anything that I, with my limited human faculties, could fully comprehend. As I sat and watched, the feeling overtook me that my very life was slowly dwindling into nothingness. There was no trace here of anything as insignificant as human undertakings. This same event had been occurring hundreds of millions- hundred of billions- of times, from an age long before there had been anything resembling life on earth.” (146)
This passage impressed me particularly, and is undoubtedly my favorite passage in Book 1. It describes Lieutenant Mamiya’s experience of watching the sun rise in a desolate plateau in Mongolia. I think Murakami was able to capture the grandioseness of a sunrise beautifully; through Mamiya’s character, he was able to translate the sentiment of insignificance you feel when faced with such an incredible (yet mundane) sight. The passage also goes to show how, even in the ugliest, most dismal and inhospitable lands (like Mongolia was to Lieutenant Murakami), the sunrise is a reminder that the earth is one whole planet, and that home is not far since the sight is the same anywhere you are. The passage reminded me especially of my most memorable experience with the sunrise (this is perhaps why I enjoyed the extract so much): I was on a school trip in 9th grade at a campsite not far from the Atlas mountains. The clearness of the air made me sleep like a baby, but there was no way of blocking the morning sunlight (we slept in tents, and there were always areas that would let beams of sunlight enter our shelter). I was woken up by a weak sun beam the first morning and could not go back to sleep, so I decided to exit my tent to watch the rest of the sunrise. When I left the relative darkness of my “bedroom”, I was astounded by the beautiful, serene pink landscape that surrounded me, with just a sliver of sun peaking out of the horizon. I watched the sliver slowly turning into a magnificent, piercing yellow circle, still pale with youth. The sky still had remnants of the past night, with small stars faintly shimmering in the background, and the moon fading in the distance... The sight was mind-blowing, and I felt utterly insignificant in front of such an incredible spectacle (especially since I was the first one up, and it felt like I was the only person alive on this vast earth).
What was your experience with the sunrise? If you did not experience one, have you ever encountered an extraordinary experience with nature/ a landscape?
Beautiful response, Alia. This is a testament to how much we 'read ourselves' in text, and how this makes the writer's words more meaningful and personally relevant. Across different cultures and time zones this process never ceases to amaze me! Apprehending great beauty paradoxically puts our lives into perspective, AND takes us out of and beyond ourselves...
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