I’ll be honest: I requested to review “Maktub” because I liked the cover art. It was not until I received my copy that I realized it was written by Paulo Coelho.
It was then that my excitement, sparked by the green and light pink graphic, fizzled. I swore I knew Coelho from somewhere, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. All I knew was that it was not a positive recognition.
Lo and behold, the top of the cover read “An inspirational companion to ‘The Alchemist.’”
I’ll lay my cards on the table: The only work I have read (or anyone I know has read) by Coelho is “The Alchemist.” I read it in my sophomore year of high school in English class and didn’t like it. Really, I thought, all this just for the theme to be to follow your dreams?
However, I know plenty of people who love “The Alchemist.” When I eloquently critiqued it as “corny,” my friend responded: “It’s a classic that’s been replicated many times over — that’s why it seems corny.” Another friend of mine credits “The Alchemist” with changing his views on life, failure and growth.
With this in mind, I decided to give “Maktub” a fair shot, and I was pleasantly surprised at some points. For the most part, though, I got what I expected. It’s not that the good parts of “Maktub” aren’t corny — they are — but that the short story format makes the corniness deceptively digestible. This almost tricked me into liking it. Much like America Ferrera’s monologue in “Barbie,” the stories in “Maktub” are cliched, but they’re certainly nice to hear.
Written in 1994, and recently translated into English, the stories read much like parables. Coelho’s mentions of “God” and the “Master” certainly reflect his religious upbringing, though other stories’ descriptions of earth, nature and self-reflection evoke a broader idea of spirituality as a kind of care for oneself and others.
In one of my favorite stories from the collection, Coelho describes a disciple who constantly seeks enlightenment while his mother and father support him. His master suggests he stare at the sun for half a minute, then describe the landscape around him. The disciple obeys the master, but he is blinded by the sun and unable to describe the landscape. Then, the master tells him that a man who always seeks enlightenment for himself without a care for others will never find it, just as a man who only stares at the sun will be blinded.
In another story, the master says that in times of change, we unconsciously rerun tapes of our failures up to the current moment in our minds, and as we age, those tapes get longer. However, he reminds the protagonist that through these moments, we gain experience overcoming failure, and that should be included in our mental reruns as well. Both are necessary to move forward.
I liked these stories, mainly because they were short and I liked their messages. Ideas like these can keep us going — I truly believe that “when one door closes, another door opens” when I experience failure and rejection. It doesn’t hurt to be reminded to remember my successes and be empathetic to others during these moments.
Unfortunately, these enjoyable stories are few and far between, and their merit is overshadowed by stories that are meaningless, ridiculous or downright insensitive. Moreover, these stories are situated in a bizarre mix of different times, religions and ideologies, which at times made it feel like Coelho was attempting to invent his own religion.
“Maktub” is chock full of capitalized deities and wise authority figures — from Quakers to the Buddha to Saints — and mentions Catholicism, Quechua religion, Nazi Germany and even Napoleon. It takes place in locations ranging from monasteries to a restaurant in Fort Lauderdale. Yes, that Fort Lauderdale — the story is about the seemingly profound happiness of an abrasive drunk man.
In a particularly distasteful story, Coelho seems to suggest self-harm as a strategy for expelling negative thoughts. The story involves a traveler who notices students practicing Zen Buddhist meditation getting hit with a bamboo stick when they lose focus. At first, the traveler finds it bizarre until he decides it is necessary to physically feel spiritual pain. Then, he begins to stick a nail into his thumb when he has negative thoughts. Feeling negative thoughts in the form of physical pain, Coelho writes, is necessary to understand the damage they do. This idea is extremely harmful — physical harm is not the way to find happiness. Suggesting this practice in a book intended to be inspirational is irresponsible and dangerous.
Aside from being insensitive, some of the stories are almost incomprehensible. In one, a man asks a hermit how to find his spiritual path. The hermit tells him to look into a pond, throw rocks in it and tells him he can’t find the path if he searches too hard, just like he can’t see his face in the choppy pond. I guess this works as a simile, but Coelho doesn’t clearly connect the water and the man’s search. Many of the short stories fall flat because of shortcomings like this. I know that in most short story collections — especially those like “Maktub,” with a lot of very short stories — there are both standouts and duds. The good collections have more standouts. “Maktub” has more duds.
I was hoping “Maktub” would be the best of Coelho, the feel-good, inspirational messages without all the fluff and unnecessary symbols. But alas, “Maktub” is yet another greeting card in novel form. Sorry Coelho, but you have not won me over with this one.
Daily Arts Writer Claire Rock can be reached at rockcl@umich.edu.