"The West, or the universal civilization it leads, is emotionally rejected. It undermines, it threatens. But at the same time it is needed for its machines, goods, medicines, warplanes, the remittances from the emigrants, the hospitals that might have a cure for calcium deficiency, the universities that will provide master's degrees in mass media. All the rejection of the West is contained within the assumption that there will always exist out there a living, creative civilization, oddly neutral, open to all to appeal to. Rejection, therefore, is not absolute rejection. It is also, for the community as a whole, a way of ceasing to strive intellectually. It is to be parasitic: parasitism is one of the unacknowledged fruits of fundamentalism." --from AMONG THE BELIEVERS: An Islamic Journey (1981) by V. S. Naipaul
"Great subjects are illuminated best by small dramas." V. S. Naipaul
The complexity of your subject, the simplicity of your expression. That has attracted me to you. And, here, behind your 'universal civilisation' I find in my own way the tucked away secret, a juggernaut pattern wobbling, namely human kinds wobbling, cupidity being palliated by cupidity, great wording with some sense shed being hollowed by greater wording but just parroted so. And, sadly, a norm or pattern of homogenisation, the chase ahead, despite such unthinkable gulf of insulation between fellow human beings growing wider and more edgy. I am deep down in it, embedded. If you can't speak a foreign tongue, you're fool now. If you can't speak Chinese, you're backward. Then isn't it, at last, all about the sensual culture playing on our weakest spot?
Fortunately, Uncle Tom's Cabin is a great piece of literature of the yonder time, descriptive skill great, captivating. I could visualise the landscapes in my own way. By and large, it is the life blood of a kind, caring mind, rather seemingly of such sobriquet as 'true christian'. Thanks Harriet Beecher Stowe! I'm nearing the end, really a sad novel. She must have shed much of hers over it, through its development despite being her own mother-tongue, for as per the nature of bookmaking of such kind --something like fiction in tryst with real events so far, and recounting real events is always painful. And, above all, despite not casting a streak of light on the major human's greed begot crime. The history of mankind is condemned as so
