James Cowan (1) (1942–2018)

To be blunt, I didn't get this book. Perhaps this is because I have never really read books like this. I don't see the point of repeated musings of visitors coming to speak about their experiences to a Monk who is making a map.

The main question I found posed by this book is that of how one searches for the truth and what the truth is. As the book progresses, the main character becomes more unsure of himself and his place in his mission of creating a map. Can he faithfully create a map that represents the truth in the world? How can he tell when he relies only upon the stories that are sent to him? Does he experience truth from his "cell", as he puts it?

These are good meditation questions, so perhaps that's the point of the book. I did find my mind wandering quite a bit while reading it.

I do think of this book as a challenge. I needed to look up words every 5 - 10 pages, which is quite unusual for me, and I enjoyed expanding my vocabulary. This book had no plot, and that resulted in a story that was difficult for me to follow. Hopefully the next book I read like this will be more understandable.… (plus d'informations)