Hector and the Search for Happiness

Photo Credit: Leave it all behind

Hector and the Search for Happiness

By Francois Lelord

Or, more aptly put, a 200-page long parable on how to find happiness in today's world,in the midst of rampant consumerism, globalization, etc.- told from the perspective of a western psychiatrist named Hector.

I am not one for self help books, which is not to say that I am not a fan of self examination from time to time. I quite enjoyed Lelord's examination of how to be happy. Although, at times it felt a bit trite. It follows a typical western notion that in order to fully obtain/understand something, one must look to foreigners and other ways of living as a way to mirror western ideals to reach clarity. I will prevent a colonial rant, as there are better things to be righteous about.

It was a nice reminder, and perhaps even a much needed one, that happiness is not the destination, but rather the journey. We've heard this before, eh? Because it's true!

Here are a few "Lessons" that Hector picks up on his search:

Lesson no 1: Making comparisons can spoil your happiness.

Lesson no 2: Happiness often comes when least expected.

Lesson no 3: Many people see happiness as only in their future

I find lesson no. 3 to be particularly important. At times, delayed gratification and imminent discomfort is sometimes necessary- I am thinking of school, work, etc. here- but there is a balance to be struck. I imagine that a lot us, myself included, find it pleasing, fun, and enticing to spend a lot of time imagining the future and how lovely it will be. You know, a "dream" future, with the perfect apartment in the best location in the city, healthy relationships, a fulfilling job, enough time to explore your hobbies... a future that always seems to feel like a bright, spring, Saturday morning. I've learned that it's important to know what you want, but that you must learn how to embrace those visions in your present, instead of trying to chase them down. Anyway, I am still working on how to fully embrace my "future happiness" in the now. I am getting there, but not enough to give any more advice!

There are many more lessons, than just these three. I am sure somewhere in all of Hector's 20+ lessons there is something to be gleaned for everyone. It's a nice little jaunt of a book, and perhaps a great parable to visit as we shed the bleak winter months.

Rating: *** of *****

The Summer Book (Sommarboken)

Tove Jansson

Tove Jansson is world-famous for her Moomin characters, a legendary cartoon made for children. It would be easy to think of her as only a writer for children, but in fact she has written 11 novels, with only two of them translated into English.

Published in 1972. Fragmented, Beautiful, Simplistic.

The Summer Book was yet another recommendation from my dear Finnish friend, Jenny. She included this book in my Finnish Literature pile, because it is a modern classic in Scandinavia. It was with great pleasure that I began reading this little book.

Quick to read and written in a simplistic style--as if Jansson collected snippets from postcards or brief journal entries-- it was not a quick novel to process. This book is an intense examination of the relationship between a young girl Sophia and her aging grandmother. Sophia recently lost her mother, and her grandmother spends much of her time while on their summer island reflecting on her stage of life.

Attempts to understand unexplainable forces such as death, love, and the passage of time, is what is truly at the heart of this novel. The frank dialogue between these two distantly aged people is at times jarring. Beautiful, yet striking. At times it reads as two adults speaking with each other instead of a young girl and an old women. We slowly glean that the family, and island, are autobiographical. I often wonder if the this novel is more about the island itself, than about the people who inhabit it.

A Finnish Summer Cabin

It is not surprising that this book has never been out of print since it was first published. As I was reading it, I couldn't help but feel the allure of the Summer, and think about what Summer must mean for a nation that is in the dark for most of the year. As I sat and read this during the tail end of a murky-skied Pacific Northwest Winter, I recalled with pleasure the activities that Sophia and her grandmother did during the long summer days. "They make animal sculptures, and carve boats from bark, they gather berries, driftwood and bones. They draw "awful things", tell stories, build Venice in the marsh pool, row across to other islands, sleep and swim and talk."

Grandmother drops her cane into the water and Sophia climbs down from a channel maker, where her father's forbidden her to go, to fish it out: "You're a very good climber," said Grandmother sternly. "And brave too, because you could see you were scared. Shall I tell him about it? Or shouldn't I?" Sophia shrugged one shoulder and looked at her grandmother, "I guess maybe not," she said. "But you can tell it on your deathbed so it doesn't go to waste."

This feels like one of the projects Sophia and her grandmother would make on a long, lethargic summer day.

Oh, Tove Jansson. Such a beautiful book to add to your incredible body of work.