Tuesday, January 25, 2011

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Sukkwan Island

A middle-aged father and son who still, for thirteen years, has not entered adolescence. A very isolated cabin in Alaska, a place where nature imposes high demands. For the father, a retired cherished the hope of regeneration, an environment in which to recover serenity, balance. The son, however, misunderstands the sense of adventure. The place is scary, the difficulties of living there are obvious upon arrival. Only accepted the pleas be there by paternal. Perhaps think of the best moments, things go fairly well. But his confidence, and input is very weak. And that he wants to be helpful, to please his father, the last thing you would want to disappoint you, increase your distress.

But no one can escape from himself. Wherever he goes, one it carries, and the change of scenery, or the romantic adventure of survival in an inhospitable environment, do not fix anything when the pain is very deep and it carries one where it moves, does not matter whether a city or the place where they finish this father and son.

How does a guy of his father's incessant anxiety, confusion, despair? How it undermines the child about parental lack of control? A guy needs to trust his father, feeling safe with him, knowing that you have provided possible contingencies, especially feel the warm peace that comes from the certainty that the adult has a higher maturity, that has the keys to life. Quite the contrary, Sukkwan Island witnessed the staging of the damage that a father brutally self-absorbed, confused and hesitant can cause your child.

David Vann, the author has told her that his father asked when he was thirteen, to accompany him during a season in Alaska, in a remote and isolated. He refused. His father was alone, and soon after committed suicide. The fault has been haunted since the writer. What would have happened had they been together? That possibility sparked his imagination. The result is explored in this book. A text that would have been worth nothing, of course, if the author had not managed to turn his speculation, his game imaginative in the highest literary quality.

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