The Elusiveness of Bliss

https://unsplash.com/photos/-N0YnyNweJQ

I recently re-read a fabulous book by Eric Weiner titled The Geography of Bliss. The first time I read it was in preparation for a summer program at Cambridge in 2012, and I felt that it was worth revisiting, particularly in our troubled cultural moment, when bliss seems so difficult to come by. 

Weiner takes us on a journey both within and without to examine various cultures and what it is that makes them happy. Or, barring happiness, what it is that makes them miserable. Told with remarkable wit, it is an honest foray into the often fruitless search for happiness. As is by now well known, simply wondering whether we are happy can make us unhappy. Anything that takes us out of the moment can lead to unhappiness. It is for this reason, I surmise, that Weiner chose the word bliss rather than happiness in his title. 

In my estimation, bliss exists somewhere between happiness and joy. It is not as fragile or fleeting as happiness, but neither does it require quite the same sense of quiet contentment that we often associate with joy. I would liken bliss to a state of flow (that wonderful concept explored by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi): that blissful unawareness that is achieved by being aware of and immersed in where you are and what you are doing – let's call it a sort of mindful happiness. 

With this definition in mind, let's take a brief look at the places that Weiner visits in his book and my interpretations of his main conclusions from each.

1. The Netherlands
   
   In the Netherlands, Weiner tells us – after smoking some hash for "research purposes" – it is a combination of freedom and permissibility that contributes to the nation's relatively high levels of happiness: the Netherlands checks in at number five globally on the 2019 list of the world's happiest nations. But it is not mere permissibility that leads to happiness. It is a sort of structured permissibility without judgment. Even in the Netherlands, too much of a good thing is still too much.
   
   
2. Switzerland
   
   Switzerland checks in at number six on the 2019 global happiness list, just behind the Netherlands. It is also the second stop for Weiner on his grand tour. He is quick to note that the perception of Switzerland as a clean and well-functioning nation is spot on. Switzerland is also a little boring, but perhaps that's why it lends itself to being a happy place. For the Swiss, Weiner notes, it is a combination of structure, rules, and trust that produce a happy society. Everyone knows how to behave, neighbors know what to expect from neighbors, and one does not seek to inspire envy in others. Everything has its place, including indulgence in a little chocolate now and again.
   
   
3. Bhutan
   
   Bhutan is the first of Weiner's stops that misses out on the top ten of the 2019 global happiness index. It is also, perhaps, the place that inspires one the most of all the places to which he travels. For the Bhutanese, attentiveness, deliberateness, and, once again, trust, contribute to a happy society. Things move slower in Bhutan. Weiner notes the lack of infrastructure we are accustomed to in the West. But in Bhutan, this is not a lack, it is a freedom. A freedom to slow down and actually practice deliberateness, not just espouse its positives as we Americans so often do without ever testing it out. Perhaps trust comes easier in a smaller nation, but its recurrence as a cornerstone of happiness seems to be an indication of something worthwhile. 
   
   
4. Qatar
   
   The nation of Qatar is an outlier. It is a nouveau riche nation doing its utmost to purchase a culture. "We are revising ourselves through our...cultural development," said Qatar's chief art buyer. Call it revision or creation, Weiner does not seem impressed with the effect. In his estimation, money buys leisure, but not necessarily bliss. As has been noted by so many researchers, money on its own does not lead to happiness. In fact, tying self-worth to money even hampers happiness.
   
   
5. Iceland
   
   Iceland checks in at number four on the 2019 global happiness index, the highest of the nations that Weiner visited. In Iceland, Weiner jokes, the people are drinkers, but happy drinkers. But Icelandic happiness goes beyond enjoying a good drink. Weiner informs us that it is a combination of imagination and cultural inventiveness, with ample room to fail and try again, that contributes in large part to the bliss of the nation. It is this inventiveness that also leads to valuing generalization over specialization, a rarer thing in the modern world, but that seems to point to a more well-rounded society. In Iceland, the focus is on learning more about more, not excessively more about less and less. It is a sort of moderation through unbounded exploration that we could all learn from.
   
   
6. Moldova
   
   Weiner's brief visit to the country of Moldova, which consistently ranks near the bottom of world happiness indices, reveals what happiness is not. In Moldova, we learn that happiness is elsewhere. It's a sort of grass is greener approach, but in this case, the grass really does seem to be greener in any direction outside of Moldova. We are introduced to lovely people there, though, who teach us that we are hardwired for altruism, even, and perhaps especially, in difficult or less than ideal circumstances. To take this idea further, we should avoid envy resolutely, as envy of our neighbors makes us less likely to want to help them. This seems to be a symptom that we are seeing play out in current US politics.
   
   
7. Thailand
   
   In Thailand, we basically find the antithesis of the prevailing mindset that drives America. Weiner writes that Thailand taught him to make things fun and to take the long view, especially in light of the belief in re-incarnation. Do not take yourself too seriously, for if it is not fun, at least on some level, then what is the point?
   
   
8. Great Britain
   
   Great Britain is another of those places that Weiner does not find to be particularly happy at face value. With that in mind, he advises us that happiness is a matter of how you choose to see things. Re-framing is important in most aspects of life, especially regarding work and career, but Great Britain teaches us that it can also be important in how we view ourselves and where we came from.
   
   
9. India
   
   In India, where Weiner served as a foreign correspondent for NPR for a time, he instructs us to allow and embrace contradictions, embrace uncertainty and imperfections, and allow for an ad hoc experience of life. Again, all things that we in America find difficult to do. As Weiner notes in his book, the contradictions of India may be best summed up by a Mark Twain quote in which he wrote, "Every life [in India] is sacred, except human life." Perhaps this stems from a wide belief, like Thailand, in re-incarnation. Perhaps, though, it's just a further invitation to accept the contradictions and absurdities that are inevitably encountered in life.
   
   
10.  America
    
    Weiner ends his journey with a review of America and what makes its citizens tick. According to Weiner, it is willpower, gumption, and prosperity that underlies the American drive for happiness. Much of this is ultimately empty, though. How much prosperity is enough? More. We are a  society hell-bent on seeking money, when what would really make us happy – and the research bears this out – is seeking time and connection with others.

No single place has the perfect formula for happiness. Happiness is, after all, fleeting. Again, perhaps this is why Weiner chose to use the word bliss in his title. There are lessons worth taking from each of the nations that Weiner visited. The ones that seem to recur, though, are an emphasis on connection, trust, and time – all of which require a certain deliberateness on our part. Deliberateness is certainly a concept we can get behind here at Deliberately Aimless.

Stories of the Nature of Cities

https://unsplash.com/photos/6WrKKQcEnXk

What follows is a flash fiction story that I wrote for a project called "Stories of the Nature of Cities," with a vision of what cities will look like in the year 2099. The focus of the project is, of course, on transdisciplinary thinking and efforts to make for a more connected and greener city. More about the project can be found on The Nature of Cities website. 

Whether the global pandemic of 2020 casts any doubt on the viability of cities is undoubtedly a concern, but it seems that that is where further innovation can come into play to make cities feel safe to the masses and allow them to continue to thrive. Density, previously a key selling point of cities, is naturally considered less than ideal in the midst of a pandemic. But, one could argue, perhaps it is also this same proximity that has allowed us to build the institutions that we have that have led to the relatively quick rollout of a vaccine. 

Cities are, without a doubt, hubs of innovation. But in the following flash fiction story, I focus on a simpler version of a city. One that is smaller, and based on communal cooperation and mutual care and trust. A community and society that promotes the common good, while maintaining concern for the individual, is one we can all get behind. The fictional story that follows is one that I feel epitomizes the type and quality of life we aim to promote here at Deliberately Aimless. Welcome to the notion of SimpliCity, otherwise known as Peace River.

→Peace River

Diana watched from under her visor as the green leaves fluttered in the breeze above her. She took a spade from the wheelbarrow next to her, relishing the feeling of its wooden handle in her grasp. This tool allowed her to cultivate both her own food as well as an intimate relationship with the natural world, an experience she realized she shouldn’t take for granted. It was only a short while ago that people had little contact with nature; a sizeable portion still didn’t. In humanity’s quest to eliminate hardship and effort, it had unwittingly removed purpose from life. As Diana saw it, many in the mid-century period became shells of their former selves, having no physical concerns, and thereby no connection to their bodies, to nature, to each other.

But things were changing. On the eve of the 22^nd century, there was a movement by a significant portion of the population to re-establish the small town, to leave behind the concrete jungle, the overcrowding, and the desultory life. Many would choose to stay in the still-growing cities, for the convenience; others desired something more: to know Mother Nature.

With this aim in mind, Diana had moved to Peace River, high on the Canadian prairie, a year ago. When she arrived, she hadn’t witnessed a utopia in action; pursuit of utopia had made the megacities what they were. Neither were these remote communities communist. They still operated under capitalist principles, but not the capitalism that you and I know. Currency existed and people held occupations, sure, but interest was not earned on loans and wealth was not created simply by manipulating markets. The towns operated under the not so radical idea put forth by Solomon in Proverbs, that “dishonest money dwindles away, but he who gathers money little by little makes it grow.” In fact, this described much of the outlook of how the town operated as a whole, not just as pertains to commerce. Nature, too, was something to be used little by little, as needed, but not without tender care.

Diana had found employment as a journalist, covering the goings-on in the town of about 7,000. She enjoyed riding her bicycle to her appointments, the global warming of the past century having made the winters of the northern prairies more tolerable. Most of the town’s residents commuted by bicycle, much as the Dutch had used to do before rising seas had forced many of their number into the megacities. Life moved at a slower pace in Peace River, and the residents subsequently found themselves without regular need of automobiles. A train line ran once daily to Edmonton, and a city-subsidized rental facility allowed residents to rent autonomous cars on an as-needed basis.

Digging the nose of the spade into the soil, Diana upturned a small amount and deposited the potato tuber, covering it back over. She trenched a line about thirty feet long, and continued planting about every twelve inches. Finishing, she tossed the spade into the wheelbarrow and pumped some water from the nearby well into her bottle, savoring the fresh taste as she drank it down. Northern Alberta had outlawed the use of pesticides nearly eighty years before, and all cities had moved to grey water systems, to reduce the amount of waste entering streams. In that time, the groundwater tables had begun to recover, in terms of both quality and quantity. The installation of bio-swales and permeable pavement throughout town had also helped with the infiltration of rainwater and snowmelt, intercepting portions of it before it could runoff into the river, where it would become “lost” due to salinity when it entered the sea, until such time that it precipitated over land again.

Which reminded her that she needed to meet Tom back at the house to have him check the pressure in her front room radiator. She walked round to the front just as he was riding up. He leaned his bicycle against her wire fence, and she led him inside. A socialite, Tom explained as he set to work. “I see you have the newer units with the gridded folds to maximize surface area. That helps with efficiency. So what seems to be the problem?”

“It’s been emitting a high-pitched sound when it runs. I’m worried about the pressure since we run recycled water through them these days.”

“Understandable, don’t want to have that sort of mess to clean up. Again, it’s more efficient to run re-used water through, but I understand the concern.” Tom made quick work of it, replacing a fitting and O-ring, and was soon on his way.

“Thanks, what do I owe you?” Diana asked as he headed down the steps.

“Nothing, it’s part of your community fees. The city, which is to say the people, take responsibility for all municipal water services, even into the house. Have a good evening.”

Diana liked Peace River. It was small enough that she could know people and be known. Yet it wasn’t a cult; no one was forcing her to be there. Should she ever desire to return to the hustle and bustle of the megacities, she could. It was just last week she had visited her brother in Calgary. And, in fact, she still held investments in some of the larger companies of the world at large; ties and communications still very much existed to the so-called “outside world.” But at the moment, she found it difficult to envision a scenario in which she would return to that world. The pace of life in Peace River was slower, the people friendlier, her career less stressful, and the town better connected with the lifeblood of humanity, which is to say, nature. Diana had rediscovered the joys of physical nature, better understood her own nature, and felt a peace and connectedness which she knew gave life to her body and to the world.

Difficulties

https://unsplash.com/photos/GRk5T551-80

A poem dealing with the difficulties of life seemed apropos for the moment we find ourselves in. With the Covid-19 pandemic ongoing and worsening in many places, travel limitations and the inability to spend the holiday with family, to work stress and just the general stress of life, sometimes we must ask tough questions and cry out to the Universe for answers. Thus, poetry, perhaps the best and most honest form of crying out when the going gets tough.

Difficulties

A call with difficult news, a struggle ongoing.

Sit with, walk with the person on the other end of the line.

My instinct is to throw that coffee cup bearing the cross and flame,

Smash it to bits on the tile floor.

But I don't.

Life is hard, and cleaning up the fragments would only be harder.

I instead cry out in spirit, in solidarity with the one I've just spoken with,

Asking, pleading to make it easier, better.

Can the cross do that?

The Meaning of Value

The Konza Prairie, Kansas
https://unsplash.com/photos/DS5kYa3PmZo

Value

Value is a complex subject that encompasses several meanings. There is what we value, there are our personal values, and there is the value we place on things, to name but a few. I want to focus on a combination of these.

If it is true that big data is the way of the future, I suspect then that big data will have something to reveal to us about value and the nature of human beings. An image search of the term "value" will, once you have gotten past the infographics about the topic, produce images showing money, watches, cars, and gadgets. Our increasing reliance on big data hints at a notion of value: the more the better. Except when that's not the case. In some instances, it is the opposite, and we assign greater value as rarity increases. It all depends on what is being valued.

Perhaps, for this discussion, we need a definition of value, then. In my view, value stems from three main components: skill, scarcity, and utility.

→Skill

We tend to assign greater value to tasks or accomplishments that require more skill. This seems reasonable enough. Lionel Messi possesses a great deal of skill in soccer. He is subsequently compensated at a very high level: with money, fame, assumed credibility, etc. We take it in stride that possession and practice of such a skill can and should be compensated at a higher level than unskilled positions in the food service, waste management, or hospitality arenas, to name but a few.

But why does his immense skill on the pitch carry greater value than someone who is similarly skilled in a cognitively-demanding field such as dentistry? Each field undoubtedly has a vast array of methods, techniques, and baseline knowledge that must be mastered. To answer that question, we must examine the second component of the value equation.

→Scarcity

Not to harp on the professions of soccer and dentistry, but is mastery of one rarer than mastery of the other? I would argue that the answer is no. Soccer – and other skill-focused professions that place a premium on coordination, muscle memory, or athletic ability – may simply provide a more obvious arena for sussing out the highest levels of mastery than in cognitively demanding fields. So while mastery of soccer may in fact not be rarer than mastery of dentistry, it is easier to determine who is "better" at soccer than at dentistry.

Furthermore, soccer is fun. Dentistry is (generally) not considered to be so, at least not in the same way. People like to watch soccer, broadcasters subsequently pay for rights to show soccer matches to more and more people, advertisers join the fray, fans buy tickets, and the spoils of this vast machine cascade to the best and most popular players and teams. We prefer grand mountains to simple prairies, dramatic waterfalls to meandering streams, and large estates to humble abodes. Soccer is a grand mountain. Dentistry – and similar cognitively demanding fields – are simple prairies, associated with the day to day, and therefore, unremarkable. More on this later.

→Utility

Utility is where a wrench is thrown into the equation. It is doubtful that, if asked to rank the top one hundred most useful professions, any two people from a reasonable sample size would produce a list of the exact same order. Even producing agreement ranking the top ten most useful professions would be difficult. 

However, we can reasonably hazard a guess that soccer would not be on that list, and dentistry would be. Dentistry has a much more direct, practical application to day to day life. It is necessary; soccer is not. Most jobs that we everyday people do are necessary. They fill a need to keep the world moving. Things like soccer – sports, in general – and other performance professions, are entertainment. They provide a diversion from the tedium of everyday life. In this sense, those everyday professions are far more valuable than something like soccer, even if that's not summarily represented by compensation.

The Disconnect

So what is missing from our equation? Is it impressiveness? Is it desirability of the job or action being performed? Remarkability? Perhaps it's this last one, remarkability. Remember the mountains and prairies comparison? In reality, neither mountains nor prairies are more unique or rare than the other. But mountains are usually looked upon with more awe than prairies because of their remarkability. 

Humans live in a predominantly horizontal world, and so we are more attuned to something in the vertical plain. It catches our attention. The day to day jobs that you and I work are in the horizontal; jobs of athletes and entertainers are in the vertical. This seems to be a differentiating factor in determining subsequent compensation and interest. This may not be entirely consistent with the other factors influencing value, but it is understandable, dissectable.

Worth

Sometimes, however, we conflate value with worth, which is a problem. The vertical is no more "worthy" than the horizontal, any more than the mountain is more worthy than the prairie. This is why I chose a picture of the Konza Prairie in Kansas as the header of this post. Kansas (my home state) is often the subject of dismissal and disdain, usually regarding its lack of vertical features. But this in no way makes it "less than." 

In a similar vein, you are of no less worth than someone else simply because you earn less or because the world values their dreams more than yours in a monetary sense. As complex as the notion of value can be, worth is even more so. Do not conflate the two, for we are all of equal worth, and, simultaneously, "all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God" (Romans 3:23 NKJV). Develop the components of value to your benefit and as you are able, but remember that we are all equal in a cosmic lens, even if that can be a difficult thought to maintain in the day to day.

The Ancient Paths

https://unsplash.com/photos/lWAzWOLod5g

This is what the LORD says: "Stand at the crossroads and look; ask for the ancient paths, ask where the good way is, and walk in it, and you will find rest for your souls. But you said, 'We will not walk in it.'" 

Jeremiah 6:16 (NKJV)

How often we stumble. And I'm not even speaking in a strictly Biblical sense. We let our friends down. We do not give our family the time they deserve. We don't give an honest effort in our pursuits. We prioritize money over time, and find when it's all over, it was the wrong choice. We seek things that will not fulfill us. 

We distract and drown ourselves in technology and plans to the extent that if we came to a crossroads in life, we might not even be aware of it. We would blaze on past, never stopping to consider that there is an ancient path, let alone what it might hold. And it is all to our detriment. It is our loss.

It seems that we have forgotten how to be present, how to take it all in. Life can be simple. We simply choose not to allow it to be. God promises rest to us if we will only walk in these ancient paths. But we must ask. We must stand still. We must prioritize listening over speaking, for only then will we find direction.

Perhaps we don't even know what the ancient path would look like. Perhaps we are just aimless, though not deliberately so in this instance. Is an ancient path a craggy, twisted trail through the woods? Is it found in making a literal pilgrimage along a trail, such as the Camino de Santiago? Or is it more a matter of finding our purpose in life? Is it found by fulfilling some nebulous but unexplained "destiny"? Or is it simply listening to that still small voice that guides our thoughts and actions, if only we would heed its call.

Probably it's some combination of the above. It undoubtedly looks different to each person. What I suspect each ancient path has in common, though, is a commitment to truth. But what truth, exactly?

There are certain near-universal truths found among humanity. In general, most cultures hold that one human being should not kill another. Humanity's basic needs of water, food, and shelter do not vary across different groups. Studies have found that facial expressions are recognizable and understandable across cultures. We all collectively use languages to communicate, call one another by some identifying name, develop a system of management or governance, and engage in various forms of art.

Further, research shows that while values vary from individual to individual, relative prioritization of values within and across cultures displays a remarkable level of agreement. For instance, most cultures give "honesty and other prosocial values" a high degree of importance. Meanwhile, "wealth and other power values" are given a lower degree of importance. These findings, while remarkable in demonstrating the agreement across cultures, are what we might better call common sense. Or values that your grandparents would teach you out of the wisdom of their age. 

It goes back to the fundamental notion that at the end of our lives, we tend to think back to the good times shared with others rather than sit and count our money or think of the perceived power that we used to have. We instead ruminate on what it means to be human. What it means to have lived a good life. A life full of love and gratitude and relationships. That is what is to be found on the ancient paths. And we all receive the call to walk in them, to find rest. The question is, will we?

La Sal Love

 

La Sal Mountains, Utah

I took this photo on my first visit to Arches National Park in the deserts of Utah. The clouds scattered just so, leaving their shadows to dot the desert floor. The peaks of the La Sal Mountains jut above the stark tree line to face the onslaught of sunlight, wind, rain, and snow that will inevitably batter them through the seasons.

Words

Majestic; textured; stark; vivid; rugged; beckoning

Haiku

Sunlit desert where

Clouds swarm, sage dots, sand spreads forth;

Mountains capped, not bowed.

On The Sea Wolf and Virtue

https://london.sonoma.edu/

The Author

Jack London is another favorite here at Deliberately Aimless. The Call of the Wild is among my favorite books, and others of London’s aren’t far behind. After having read The Sea Wolf, I was not disappointed, and upon completion it landed itself in perhaps the upper ten percent of books that I have read.

London’s uncanny ability to write powerful dialogue is, in many respects, unmatched, and is on full display in The Sea Wolf. This ability is never more clear than in another of his works, The Iron Heel, in which the characters deliver forceful, compelling, and, an oft overlooked point, believable diatribes. In The Iron Heel, we find the main character, Ernest Everhard, facing a consistent onslaught from the ruling class, and constantly having to defend his socialist point of view. He does this via quite convincing arguments, lent additional beauty and fluidity the more that London’s own socialist ideals show through. While one may have qualms with the viewpoint put forth by the character Everhard, the reader is nevertheless forced to admit that London consistently imbues his characters with a ferocity and self-assurance driven home by their convincing words.

I use the illustration of The Iron Heel not to belabor the point but because I found The Sea Wolf to be quite its equal. I also found myself disagreeing with certain viewpoints of characters, though this certainly did not take away from the joy of getting lost in their dialogue. 

The Plot

In The Sea Wolf, we meet our titular character and antagonist, Wolf Larsen, after he picks up our protagonist, Mr. Van Weyden, from a shipwreck in the crossing of San Francisco Bay. We are immediately given insight into Larsen’s character by his refusal to take Van Weydon, or “Hump,” as Larsen and the crew take to calling him, back to shore or to let him board a passing vessel. It seems that Hump has been forcibly added to the crew of “The Ghost,” a seal-hunting vessel bound for the north Pacific, under the captainship of a very physically and mentally imposing Larsen. 

I don’t want to give anything away as far as the core plot is concerned, and would heartily recommend you read The Sea Wolf, but I do want to dissect both Larsen’s and Hump’s moral fortitude, character, virtue, whatever you wish to call it. Larsen finds himself intrigued by Hump, a man who hails from the softer side of society and who has made a career as a writer. Larsen, though coarse and brutal, is self-taught in matters of philosophy and literature and soon begins engaging in debates about the meaning of life with Hump.

Larsen is of the opinion that this life is all that we get; there is nothing to follow. He argues, essentially, that there is no soul in the human make up, but rather that we are all driven by a desire to fulfill our own needs and wants, regardless of what that means for our fellow man. Hump argues against this, though it is questionable whether Larsen ever gives serious consideration to an alternative viewpoint, such is the state of his ego. While I disagree with Larsen’s view, I do want to examine more closely one of his and Hump’s conversations.

The Rubaiyat

In said conversation, Hump references The Rubaiyat, an eleventh or twelfth century poem by Omar Khayyam, seeing that it aligns with Larsen’s view of the finality of this life. Larsen, it turns out, is unfamiliar with said work. 

So let's examine some background. The Rubaiyat is a poem that was originally written in Persian, but has since been translated by several different scholars through the centuries. Most translations result in a 101 verse poem on the meaning of existence, with four lines per verse. In it, Khayyam explains his view that because we are given this life only, we should essentially maximize our pleasure while on the earth, which he proposes to do by drinking more wine. In essence, Khayyam is arguing for Hedonism. As an admirer of the Stoic philosophy, I have obvious qualms with his contention that the highest aim is to fulfill one’s desires. However, I take more issue with Khayyam's claim of the finality of this life, though he does illustrate his point with some beautiful verse, one of which I have reproduced below.

When You and I behind the Veil are past,

Oh, but the long, long while the World shall last,

Which of our Coming and Departure heeds

As the Sea’s self should heed a pebble-cast.

Verse XLVII

I chose this particular verse both because of its reference to the sea and because I agree with it, at least in part. I admire the sense of humility that it conveys, its understanding that when we have finished this life we quite possibly will be remembered no more, except by a vanishingly small number of people. It lends a certain grounded perspective to life and speaks to our inherent limitations in understanding. I don’t, however, agree with Khayyam’s (and subsequently Larsen’s) conclusion, in both the above verse and the poem at large, that essentially all is for naught, that life ends with the grave, and therefore we should indulge ourselves. Despite this, I did enjoy the poem itself, beautifully written as it is.

The Characters

To bring it back to the book, once Hump fills him in on The Rubaiyat, Larsen immediately shows an affinity for the viewpoint espoused in it. Larsen’s self-assurance is fiery, and again, it is unclear throughout whether he ever softens or questions his stance on the matter. This certainly makes for a compelling character, though, in that he remains a bit of a mystery, it is difficult to divine his motives, and therefore he is imminently unpredictable. 

Hump is a different matter entirely. At first timid and downright shocked by the behavior he witnesses not only from Larsen, but from the sealing crew at large, it takes him a while to find his sea legs, as it were. However frustrating he may find them to be, Hump gains a good deal from both his physical hardening aboard the ship as a mate as well as his sporadic rounds of mental sparring with Larsen.

In his own words (Van Weyden/Hump is the narrator), when speaking of a grievance with the cook aboard, Hump says, “Under all his cowardice there was a courage of cowardice, like mine, that would impel him to do the very thing his whole nature protested against doing and was afraid of doing.” This statement perfectly encapsulates the transformation that Hump must undergo throughout the narrative. Hump must overcome the “long years of bookish silence [which] had made me inattentive and unprepared.” Thrust into a vicious and violent world wholly unprepared, he quickly realizes that he must come to truly understand his own nature if he is ever to master his fears made manifest in the person of Wolf Larsen. 

There are some other twists and several other characters of note that I have intentionally omitted from my review, including a budding romance and a struggle for survival, all in an effort to not take away from the enjoyment of the story. I heartily recommend reading The Sea Wolf to any and all hoping to learn a little something about human nature and, possibly, about themselves.