What an Author does for us
When I was in school, Call of the Wild, by Farley Mowet was required reading and fifty some years later, my son reintroduced me to this author with White Fang. Both of these stories take the reader into the high Canadian Arctic. A land seldom traveled by the majority of the world’s population.
In the same vein, but in the Non-fiction world, is Pierre Burton’s, Caesars of the Wilderness, which explorers the life of the true pioneers of Canada. The Voyagers and the Factors and fur traders of the Hudson’s Bay Company.
Both of these authors transport us into the wilderness of Canada and the world of extraordinary men and women, who make Canadians who and what we are.
In the same vein, Wilber Smith’s, The Burning Shore, takes us on a journey of South Africa as experienced by a shipwrecked, pampered French woman.
Rudyard Kipling takes us on a journey to India, where we experience the lives, sights and sounds not only from a British point of view, but that of the local people.
An author takes us on a journey. A journey back in time, or into the future. An author paints a picture in our minds eye, allowing us to escape, even for just a moment, the drudgery of our own lives. To go to places and experience things we never may have the opportunity to experience.
We feel the oppressive heat and humidity of India. The smells of the markets. The laughter and the color of the people. We tremble at the sound of the lion and the hyena in the dark of the night. The awesome power of the elephant and Rhino in Africa. We smell the wood smoke from an open fire and battle the black flys and mosquitos in the Canadian wilds. The terror and the exuberance, the roar of the river as we shoot the rapids of the river in full flood. We swallow hard in our shield wall trying to hold back our fear as we and our comrades face overwhelming odds with our eagles at our backs. In our X fighters in the dark of deep space, we battle alone to repel invaders while desperately trying to stay alive. With our mates by our sides, we battle the wind and high seas. Our ship smashing threw the waves, our bare feet scrabbling for purchase on rain slick rigging as we desperately furl topsails to save the ship and our selves.
The soft rustling of clothing and our breath is taken away by the vision of beauty before us. The touch of her soft hand, the smell of her hair, the sparkle in her eyes, the sound of her voice.
The clear clean smell after a summer rain. the sound and fury of a prairie hail storm, the roar of the wind and the sight of the shingles and the barn being blown off during a tornado.
The Southern Cross on a clear moonless night. The constellations clear to the naked eye. The Northern Lights so close you can almost reach up and touch them. Coming over a small ridge expecting to see a hot spring, but realising the steam we were seeing was coming from a heard of Wapiti bedded down out of the frigid wind. How the sharp eyed scout whistled her warning and in seconds the herd exploded in thunder and were off into the nearby woods, the bulls laying their massive six foot long antlers on their backs so they will not become entangled in the brush. In minutes the clearing is once again silent. An all encompassing silence that we can never imagine in our crowded urban environments.
The sight of the matched black horses, the red serge and iconic Stetson hats of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police musical ride. The thump of the hooves and the jangle of horse tack as they make their movements. The moment of fear as they line up in line abreast, lower their lances and charge, each lance seemingly pointed at your heart.
Seeing a wolverine in all his majesty, standing on a hillside, master of all. A white tail deer stomps her foot and whistles to warn her fawn of approaching danger. The whistles of the Wapiti calling each other and the bugles of the males, the crash of Big Horn Rams slamming repeatedly into each other.
The terror, our horse and our selves feel at the sound of the timber wolf howling his dominance of his territory and the answering howls of his pack. The crack of the ice as we gingerly step across a frozen lake.
The joy we feel hearing and singing a folk song or dance. The sorrow we feel when a loved one is lost.
And then, the story is over. Our brief interlude into another world or life is over, for life, as boring as it can be at times must go on.
For a chance to win one of three Kindle copies of Bears and Eagles up for giveaway, leave a comment in the comments section. A random selection will be made of all entries collected from 9AM EST July 14, 2015 until Midnight EST July 18, 2015. Odds of winning are dependant on the number of entries collected. No purchase is required.
My thanks to Debdatta Dasgupta Sahay for organising and putting on this blog hop.
