So where are we with Carpe Diem Reclaimed? Thanks to you all, the funds have been raised, and the manuscript is now under the fine scalpel of my editors at Unbound. I remain sitting in my study, surrounded by the detritus that accompanies a near-finished book project: piles of notes, books read and unread, newspaper clippings, obscure scholarly articles, and multiple chapter drafts covered with corrections.
Amidst all the debris is the text that never made it into the final manuscript - aborted chapter openings, irrelevant paragraphs written in flights of fancy, and whole sections that couldn't stand up to the critics. I like to keep everything from the cutting room floor as mementos of my peripatetic authorial wanderings. In case you are curious about what can be found there, here is one of the rejected paragraphs, about one of my great literary heroes, Zorba the Greek.
If there is one figure who represents the essence of an experiential approach to living, it is Alexis Zorba, the boisterous, larger-than-life character from Nikos Kazantzakis’s 1946 novel Zorba the Greek. Zorba is the ultimate carpe diem junkie. He exudes exuberance. He throws himself into life. He’s impulsive. He laughs and cries, he dances and plays the santuri (a kind of dulcimer) with passion and longing deep into the night. His sexual appetite is unquenchable, he revels in friendship, and immerses himself in hard work and helping others. On his deathbed he exclaims, ‘I have no regrets…I’ve done heaps and heaps of things in my life, but I still did not do enough. Men like me ought to live a thousand years. Good night!’ By contrast, the other main character in the novel, a young intellectual (who is the unnamed narrator), lives a kind of shadow existence. Timid and bookish, he seems almost afraid of living. Zorba attempts to inspire him – to teach him – to grasp life, to seize the day. ‘I’m free,’ he insists at the end of the novel. ‘No, you’re not free,’ replies Zorba. ‘The string you’re tied to is perhaps longer than other people’s. That’s all…You come and go and think you’re free, but you never cut the string in two….You have to risk everything! But you’ve got such a strong head, it’ll always get the better of you.’ The young man protests but, in the end, has to admit to himself that Zorba is right.
Those of you who know the fabulous 1964 film version with Anthony Quinn and Alan Bates, will remember that in the final moments, the repressed book-lover manages to let go of his inhibitions and says to Zorba, 'teach me to dance', and they dance the sirtaki together on the beach. Here's the clip, for your delectation.
May you have a great summer - and don't forget to have yourself a dance on the beach.
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