Embarking on the Quest
Introduction
Years ago, I received The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho as a gift from my thoughtful sister. She understood that reading had become an integral part of my identity, and that I loved nothing more than discovering the themes within a text. Sadly, the book remained on my shelf for years before I decided to read it. Part of my thought process involved the novel’s length: if the book was less than two hundred pages, would I truly be able to feel connected to the characters? Would I be able to grasp the hidden depths embedded in the narrative?
Thankfully, I was given the tools to unlock the secrets of The Alchemist through the “How Writers Read” course at Rowan University. The course, created by Dr. Drew Kopp, is designed to teach it’s students how to read closely, so that one may begin to notice the complexities of a written work. With Dr. Kopp’s assistance, we studied “theories of reading and writing that concern structure, register, genre, intertextuality, and rhetorical concerns” (Kopp).
When I first was tasked with choosing a book that was atypical to what I usually read, I was immediately drawn to The Alchemist. In the past, the vast majority of the novels I’ve read fall under the young adult category, specifically fantasy series spanning multiple books. So in order to step out of my comfort zone I wanted to choose a book that was on the shorter side and not labeled as young adult. I approached the text with a healthy amount of skepticism: what could I possibly get out of a book less than two hundred pages? The short answer: a new perspective on reading. This annotated bibliography is a testament to the concepts that I’ve grasped which go beyond the surface of a text.
Part 1
My Personal Legend: What am I reading for?
As I previously mentioned, I was cautiously optimistic when I began reading The Alchemist. It differed from my usual tastes but I was determined to relate to the text in a meaningful way and to power through my first assignment. Part of what I am usually “reading for” involves my emotional entanglement with the characters. Oftentimes as I’m reading I find myself comparing my attributes to characters of the narrative and in doing so I project a version of myself onto said characters and believe I know them and their motivations. For the purpose of this assignment I wanted to step away from that pattern and read what was specifically on the page rather than what I was projecting onto the page. As I read The Alchemist I had a hard time not comparing Santiago’s journey to self-realization to my own personal triumphs and shortcomings. However, thanks to my recognition of these projections I was able to better sidestep them and see the characters and the plot for what they were rather than an idealistic personal message to me.
Premise and Summary: Santiago’s Hero’s Journey
The small summary on the jacket copy reminded me of the hero’s journey, discussed at length in The Hero with a Thousand Faces by Joseph Campbell. In my previous years at Rowan College of South Jersey, I had come to know that the hero’s journey is a template of sorts—one that involves a hero who is called to action, takes off on a quest to overcome numerous obstacles, and returns transformed.
As I read I wanted to determine the premise. Robert McKee, in a chapter dubbed “Structure and Meaning” of his book Story defines premise as “the idea that inspires the writer’s desire to create a story . . . an open-ended question: What would happen if . . . ?” (McKee 112). With this definition of premise in mind, I was able to determine early on in the text that the premise was likely “What would happen if a shepherd gave up everything and went in search of his personal legend?” Santiago is presented with a choice: he could remain a shepherd, a profession which has gifted him a good life and allowed him to travel many places, OR he could give up his flock and pursue his Personal Legend, his soul’s mission on earth.
During the early stages of the book, Santiago falls asleep in an abandoned church and experiences a recurring dream of a child telling him of a hidden treasure at the Egyptian pyramids. Through the wise words of a Gypsy and the king of Salem, Melchizedek, Santiago comes to learn that this dream is a nudge in the direction of his Personal Legend, a mission assigned to him by the Soul of the World. Santiago gives up his flock and travels from Spain to Africa in search of the treasure hinted at in his dreams. During his travels he encounters a crystal merchant, an Englishman, a woman named Fatima, and an alchemist, as well as many others who teach him new things about the Soul of the World and the universal language that all are capable of understanding in their heart if they learn to listen. The novel roughly follows the pattern of the hero’s journey, which is typical of an adventure novel.
- The Call to Adventure (Call to head off into the unknown) – Santiago’s recurring dream.
- Refusal of the Call (Sense of duty or obligation, fear, insecurity etc.) – Disbelieves the Gypsy’s claims that his dream is worth pursuing, doesn’t want to leave his flock.
- Supernatural Aid (Magical helper appears) – The Old King teaches him what Personal Legends are and convinces him to go in search of it.
- The Crossing of the First Threshold (Journeys into unknown) – Santiago makes it to Africa and is robbed of all the money he gained from selling his flock, comes to understand that he is in an unknown world.
- The Road of Trials (tests to overcome) – Aids the crystal merchant in revitalizing his shop to earn money. Joins the caravan on their journey through the desert and meets the Englishman. Learns to interpret the world’s omens at the Oasis and meets the love of his life, Fatima.
- The Meeting with the Goddess (hero gains something that will help in the future) – Santiago meets the alchemist, who gives him gold and knowledge.
- Woman as the Temptress (lead astray from quest) – Santiago is tempted to quit pursuing his personal legend to stay at the Oasis with Fatima.
- Atonement with the Father/Abyss (Must confront the ultimate power) – The alchemist and Fatima convince Santiago to continue in search of his Personal Legend. Must speak the universal language with the Soul of the World and become the wind to gain safe passage to Egyptian pyramids.
- Apotheosis (Point of realization) – Santiago becomes the wind and realizes the power of the Soul of the World has been within him all along.
- The Ultimate Boon (Achieves goal) – Santiago makes it to the pyramids only to discover the treasure was at the church where he first had the dream. He returns to Spain, gets the treasure.
- Master of the Two Worlds (Balance/confidence achieved) – Santiago understands his journey was necessary in order for him to become the man he is now.
- Freedom to Live (Return to normalcy) – Santiago resolves to go back to the Oasis, treasure in tow, and find his beloved Fatima.
Controlling Idea and Counter Idea: Crossing the Threshold
Reading the story and thinking in terms of Campbell’s hero’s journey helped me better understand McKee’s approach to graphing a narrative. It’s clear the events go back-and-forth between two opposing ideas: Santiago dreams of treasure (+), He disbelieves the Gypsy’s claims (-), The Old King convinces Santiago to pursue his Personal Legend (+). The structure follows this continuous ebb and flow that keeps the reader guessing. Did I have an idea how the story would end? Yes, I assumed he’d realize his Personal Legend and value his journey. However, the back-and-forth made it impossible to be certain what obstacles he would be forced to overcome and if he’d rise to the occasion. In a way, I felt as though I was undergoing the journey with Santiago, walking alongside him through the desert, interpreting omens. During the scene where Santiago must transform himself into the wind, I too felt a determination and a certainty that the world was indeed governed by a universal language, in the small unconscious ways all living things communicate.
According to McKee, “a true theme is not a word but a sentence—one clear, coherent sentence that expresses a story’s irreducible meaning,” a Controlling Idea. “The Controlling idea has two components: Value plus Cause. It identifies the positive or negative charge of the story’s critical value at the last act’s climax and it identifies the chief reason that this value has changed to its final state” (McKee 115). The Controlling Idea of The Alchemist appears to be that pursuing your Personal Legend will lead to knowledge and riches. McKee states that there must then be a Counter-Idea, which is played against the Controlling Idea: “progressions build by moving dynamically between the positive and negative charges of the values at stake in the story” (McKee 119). The Counter-Idea must be: avoiding your Personal Legend will lead to an unfulfilled life.
Through my peer Angela Faustino’s insight, I was able to better understand these opposing components by looking at two vastly different characters from the book: the crystal merchant and the alchemist himself. The crystal merchant is ruled by the Counter-Idea, choosing to forgo his journey to Mecca, leaving his Personal Legend to remain a dream rather than reality in favor of his comfortable life. Many times throughout his journey, Santiago considers ending his quest for his Personal Legend, leaning more towards the Counter-Idea value; when he works with the crystal merchant, and later when he meets Fatima are two examples of Santiago’s reluctance to continue. The alchemist on the other hand, is governed by the Controlling Idea, as he has fulfilled his Personal Legend and has achieved knowledge and riches. We can even note how different the two character’s values are by what they’ve said throughout the book. On page 57, the crystal merchant says “you’re different from me, because you want to realize your dreams. I just want to dream about Mecca. . . I’m afraid that it would all be a disappointment so I prefer to just dream about it” (Coelho 57). In the later chapters as Santiago gets to know the alchemist we can see the stark contrast between him and the crystal merchant through what he says: “You’ll spend the rest of your days knowing that you didn’t pursue your Personal Legend, and that now it’s too late” (Coelho 124).
We can see how the narrative bounces between these two contrasting ideas and ends on a positively charged note—which is why the Controlling Idea is positive. The Controlling Idea is then dubbed an Idealistic Controlling Idea. Once Santiago unearths the treasure and achieves his Personal Legend, we can see the Idealistic Controlling Idea win out over the Counter-Idea.
Part 2
Genre: The Quest
According to an article written on thoughtco.com by Mark Flanagan, “A quest is an adventurous journey undergone by the main character or protagonist of a story. The protagonist usually meets with and overcomes a series of obstacles, returning in the end with the benefits of knowledge and experience from his quest. There are several elements to a quest in storytelling. Typically, there must be a protagonist, i.e. the “quester;” a stated reason to go on the quest; a place to go for the quest; challenges along the journey; and sometimes, the real reason for the quest – which is disclosed later on during the journey.” One statement I’d like to add to this in-depth description is that the goal of the quest is oftentimes symbolic or allegorical.
When we apply this genre—along with its expectations—we’re able to see how closely The Alchemist resembles “the quest.” Firstly let’s look at the basic elements of a quest: the protagonist is obviously Santiago. The stated reason for the quest is to discover his Personal Legend and gain riches. The challenges of the journey are vast: being robbed when arriving in Africa, navigating a new culture, gaining enough money to pay for safe passage across the desert, the tribal wars threatening their passage, the temptation of remaining with Fatima, the armed men taking them hostage, the refugees beating Santiago. All of these obstacles were put in Santiago’s way for him to overcome and gain valuable lessons from, and as we can see they become increasingly more dangerous the further along the story goes. As I outlined above, this novel closely follows Campbell’s Hero’s Journey, a typical structure of an adventure novel such as this. Santiago sets forth into an unknown world, encounters a plethora of challenges that he rises above, and returns from his journey a changed man with riches, knowledge, and a lover.
What makes The Alchemist an allegorical novel is the symbolic nature of Santiago’s journey and the treasures he’s awarded at the end. While the obvious reason for Santiago to pursue his Personal Legend is for the treasure he dreamt of, it’s clear that the knowledge he gained and the relationships he’s formed are what the true treasure is. The idea that Santiago held all of this unlimited potential within him and the journey was the key to unlocking it conforms to the adventure genre explicitly. The fact that the treasure was in fact where Santiago first began, is confirmation of my interpretation.
“The boy fell to his knees and wept. He thanked God for making him believe in his Personal Legend and for leading him to meet a king, a merchant, an Englishman, and an alchemist. And above all for his having met a woman of the desert who had told him that love would never keep a man from his Personal Legend” (Coelho 165). In the moment that Santiago finally reaches his destination, he thinks of the lives he’s touched, not just about the material treasure awaiting him. Santiago even wonders aloud “Couldn’t you have saved me from that?” and the voice on the wind answers “No. If I had told you, you wouldn’t have seen the Pyramids. They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” (Coelho 170). If Santiago had simply been told where the treasure was to begin with he wouldn’t have undergone the transformation that has turned him into the man he now is.
Proairetic Code: The Sequence of Events
In many ways the proairetic code is related to genre conventions. According to Kaja Silverman in “Re-Writing the Classic Text,” chapter six of The Subject of Semiotics, the proairetic code “determines the sequence of events within a story. It is the ‘glue’ which makes certain that clusters of events will follow each other in a predictable order” (262). Based on the detailed descriptions of the Hero’s Journey and the quest genre conventions that I previously outlined, we can see how events are somewhat predetermined depending on the genre we’re reading.
One of the most obvious conclusions we can draw from The Alchemist early on is that Santiago will reach his goal. Based on knowledge derived from reading similar texts, once Santiago dreams of his Personal Legend, we automatically assume that by the conclusion he will have realized his goal. If we look at the text on more of a micro level, we’re able to make the same assumptions from event to event. When Santiago encounters the gypsy and greets her with distrust—mentioning all the stories he’s heard of gypsies deceiving people—we can predict that he won’t believe her. Then for the story to continue, we know that he must meet someone else, perhaps a wise and presumably trustworthy figure who will convince him to go forward with the journey.
We’re even able to determine what types of events will happen as Santiago goes on his journey based on the outline of the Hero’s Journey. We assume he’ll at first refuse the call to adventure, receive supernatural aid (the alchemist and King of Salem), encounter trials that will transform him (helping the merchant, crossing the desert and interpreting omens, turning himself into the wind), meet a woman who tempts him to abandon his quest (wants to stay with Fatima rather than continue) and so on.
Hermeneutic Code: The Search for Truth
Silverman explains that the hermeneutic code “inscribes the desire for closure and ‘truth’ . . . provides not only the agency whereby a mystery is first suggested and later resolved, but a number of mechanisms for delaying our access to the desired information” (257). The mystery in this case would obviously involve Santiago’s Personal Legend being realized. The hermeneutic code delays the answer to the mystery because once Santiago’s Personal Legend is realized, the narrative ends. The entire premise of the book is based on Santiago going on this quest, and if he encountered no obstacles or was simply told where the treasure was to begin with, the journey would have ended before it started. As readers, we continue turning the page not only to achieve this realization but also to see how Santiago will overcome the challenges along the way.
The hermeneutic code continues delaying the answer with increasing levels of intensity until we achieve closure. If we look at the string of events from The Alchemist we can see how the earlier challenges were minor compared to the overwhelming hurdles in the later chapters. Santiago’s first real challenge was to simply decide whether or not he would go on the adventure to begin with and what he’d do with his flock. One of the last challenges he faced was to literally turn himself into the wind. If the impediments didn’t become increasingly difficult as the story went on, there would be no tension and when we finally reach the destination it wouldn’t have felt like a hard fought victory for Santiago and for us as readers.
It wasn’t until I thought about the story in these terms that I was able to understand how these narratives—for lack of a better term—manipulate the reader into reading more. The stakes’ rising intensity and the drive to know the final answer forces us to keep going.
Semic Code: Names and Gypsies
Of the codes that Silverman lays out for us, the semic code was the most easily understood. The semic code “represents the major device for thematizing persons, objects, or places. It operates by grouping a number of signifiers around either a proper name or another signifier which functions temporarily as if it were a proper name” (251). By grouping these signifiers with a proper name or another signifier, the author is influencing our perceptions of said persons, objects, or places.
One aspect that was pointed out to me by my classmates was the meanings of the names of various characters. The name Santiago means “Saint James,” which furthers our perception of Santiago as the protagonist and the personification of “good.” Melchizedek, the king of Salem, is a reference to the biblical figure Melchizedek. He represents a priestly figure in the book and oftentimes is the guiding voice that Santiago refers to when making decisions. Lastly we have Fatima, whose name translates to “fate,” which suits her character perfectly as she is Santiago’s fated lover, and ultimately encourages him to pursue his Personal Legend.
The other major example of the semic code surrounds the Gypsy in the early chapters. I myself am descended from Romani Gypsies and I’ve done a lot of research on their history and culture. Many times Gypsies are associated with fortune-telling, and unfortunately, thievery. The saying “I got gypped” meaning, “I got swindled,” was derived from stereotypes that surround Gypsies.
Santiago uses the character’s identity as a Gypsy as a reason to mistrust her, proving that the semic code surrounding Gypsies is prominent in the world of The Alchemist. “People said that Gypsies spent their lives tricking others. It was also said that they had a pact with the devil, and that they kidnapped children….” (Coelho 14). Santiago takes his previous knowledge of Gypsies that he’s heard second-hand and allows it to inform his situation, similar to how my previous knowledge of Gypsies allowed me to anticipate that the Gypsy would end up being correct in predictions of the treasure. Many depictions of Gypsies in pop culture show them as untrustworthy, but extremely powerful (getting cursed by a Gypsy spells disaster in many horror movies). It’s interesting how Coelho was able to include this depiction, thereby supporting the stereotype and debunking it at the same time.
The Gypsy proves to be trustworthy since she tells Santiago what he must do, but she’s also untrustworthy in a way for making him promise part of the fortune. One all-encompassing theme I’ve noticed when it comes to depictions of Gypsies is that they value self-preservation, and at times do need to resort to lying in order to survive, so it’s interesting that this depiction had her tell the truth, and become rewarded by doing so.
Of all the descriptions mentioned, the Gypsy’s seems to be the most unabashedly pessimistic. The semic code surrounding her continues even after we’ve departed from her and are now conversing with the king of Salem, Melchizedek. Once Melchizedek asks Santiago for one-tenth of his sheep in exchange for information about the hidden treasure, Santiago automatically assumes the Gypsy plays some role in this scheme: “The boy remembered his dream, and suddenly everything was clear to him. The old woman hadn’t charged him anything, but the old man—maybe he was her husband—was going to find a way to get much more than money in exchange for information about something that didn’t even exist. The old man was probably a Gypsy, too” (22-23). The semic code surrounding the word gypsy has a negative connotation in these early instances, despite the Gypsy’s apparent loyalty to Jesus that Santiago witnessed and the fact that she charged him no money whatsoever. Santiago continues to view her and other Gypsies through a lens of prejudice that he’s inherited from word of mouth of other people’s supposed experiences.
By the end of the story, when Santiago claims his treasure and ends his journey as a changed man, his view of the Gypsy no longer has a negative connotation: “Then he remembered that he had to get to Tarifa so he could give one-tenth of his treasure to the Gypsy woman, as he had promised. Those Gypsies really are smart, he thought. Maybe it was because they moved around so much” (Coelho 170-71). Much of The Alchemist follows this theme of confronting Santiago’s preconceived notions and altering them.
Part 3
Symbolic Code: The Knowing and Unknowing
Silverman describes the symbolic code as “central to the organization of the cultural order to which they belong . . . entrusted with the maintenance of that order’s dominant binary oppositions” (Silverman 270). There are plenty of unresolvable oppositions within The Alchemist: knowing and unknowing, fulfilled and unfulfilled, active and inactive. Santiago encounters these symbolic codes several times throughout the narrative.
If we look at the book with the symbolic code in mind, the most prominent instances involve Santiago’s encounters with Melchizedek and the alchemist. When Melchizedek reveals himself to be the king of Salem, it’s clear that he embodies “those who know,” because he has boundless knowledge of the world and Personal Legends. Santiago on the other hand, remains a part of “those who don’t know,” as he struggles to understand: “None of what the old man was saying made much sense to the boy,” (Coelho 24). As the story progresses it becomes clear that Santiago often stands on the unknowing side of the dichotomy, but through his journey he undergoes a transformation in order to become one of the “knowing.”
Much later, after Santiago has made it to the oasis, he meets the alchemist, another embodiment of “knowing.” While Santiago has gained a new understanding of the world and the universal language, he still lags behind the alchemist. Santiago shifts between knowing and unknowing, active and inactive several times during his conversations with the alchemist: when he grasps the lessons the alchemist gives, he inches towards knowing, but then he claims that Fatima is better than any treasure he’ll find at the pyramids and he returns to being unknowing. The alchemist further proves his knowingness when he tells Santiago exactly what will happen if he chooses to forgo his Personal Legend and remain with Fatima: “You’ll spend the rest of your days knowing that you didn’t pursue your Personal Legend and that now it’s too late. You must understand that love never keeps a man from pursuing his Personal Legend. If he abandons his pursuit, it’s because it wasn’t true love . . . the love that speaks the Language of the World,” (Coelho 124). With the alchemist’s urging, Santiago decides to become “active” and continue his journey.
If we look at the various other characters throughout The Alchemist we can see that they often fall on either side of the various symbolic codes:
- Knowing: Gypsy, Melchizedek, Crystal Merchant, the Alchemist, Fatima, Santiago (by end)
- Unknowing: the Baker, the Englishman, Rebel Leader, Santiago (throughout book)
Although the crystal merchant and the Englishman inform Santiago and ultimately teach him valuable lessons, they still remain on the opposing sides of the dichotomy compared to Santiago. The crystal merchant knows his Personal Legend but refuses to achieve it: “you want you realize your dreams. I just want to dream about Mecca. . . I’m afraid that it would all be a disappointment, so I prefer just to dream about it” (Coelho 57). So while he is wise and in the “knowing” category, he remains inactive.
The Englishman also aids Santiago on his quest, but fails to realize his own pursuits despite falling on the “active” side of the dichotomy. The alchemist mentions the Englishman’s inability to join the “knowing” side: “He has other things to do first. But he’s on the right track. He has begun to try to understand the desert” (Coelho 118). At this point, Santiago has begun interpreting the desert’s language, whereas the Englishman has become too absorbed in his studies to see the world around him.
Of all the characters throughout the narrative only one embodies the “fulfilled” aspect of the fulfilled and unfulfilled dichotomy: the alchemist. Until Santiago realizes his Personal Legend, the only other character that we encounter who has done so is the alchemist. The other obvious considerations would be Melchizedek and Fatima. While Melchizedek has vast knowledge, he admits that “the gods should not have desires, because they don’t have Personal Legends. But the king of Salem hoped desperately that the boy would be successful,” (Coelho 36). Not only is Melchizedek admitting he’s a god, but that he doesn’t have a Personal Legend, which would technically not place him on this spectrum to begin with. Fatima on the other hand is not a god and therefore must have a Personal Legend. It is hinted that Fatima’s Personal Legend was to meet Santiago “So, I love you because the entire universe conspired to help me find you,” (Coelho 126). The alchemist even comments on Fatima’s treasure, which is associated with the realization of one’s Personal Legend: “And she already has her treasure: it’s you,” (Coelho 122). So while the book seems to be suggesting that Fatima’s entire existence was tied to her meeting Santiago, I’d like to think the universe had bigger plans for her.
Cultural Code: The Universe Conspires to Help You
Silverman explains that the cultural codes “provide the means whereby the ‘information’ contained in the authoritative texts of a given symbolic order finds its ways into the novels, poems, and films which perpetuate that order . . . proverbial statements as one of the most conspicuous symptoms or manifestations of cultural coding” (Silverman 274). The cultural codes are closely tied to the symbolic codes. I prefer to think of cultural codes as nuggets of wisdom.
A phrase that immediately sticks out to me in terms of a cultural code is said by Melchizedek and repeated several times throughout the book: “when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you achieve it,” (Coelho 24). This, in my opinion, equates itself to the phrase “everything happens for a reason.” In the universe of The Alchemist, everything is governed by this ultimate truth: “there is one great truth on this planet: whoever you are, or whatever it is that you do, when you really want something, it’s because that desire originated in the soul of the universe. It’s your mission on earth,” (Coelho 24). So while many of the citizens inhabiting this world do not know it, they’re all assigned a mission at birth and that mission is their Personal Legend. This is the cultural code that Santiago chooses to live by when he gives up his flock and goes on his journey.
The code further proves itself to be true as every event leads Santiago further along his path: if he wasn’t robbed he wouldn’t have met the crystal merchant, if he hadn’t met the crystal merchant he wouldn’t have learned how important his Personal Legend was and wouldn’t have made the vast amount of money used to get safe passage across the desert, if he hadn’t gotten safe passage across the desert he wouldn’t have met the Englishman and learned how to speak the Language of the World and so on and so forth. In The Alchemist, everything happens for a reason.
Another potential cultural code could be “quitters never win.” The crystal merchant has quit attempting to pursue his Personal Legend, and thus will never “win.” The Englishman, while unfulfilled, is still attempting to achieve his goals and therefore he wouldn’t fall under the quitter category. As Santiago gains new knowledge, riches, and relationships throughout The Alchemist, he proves time and again that following his Personal Legend leads to success.
While I could name a plethora of cultural codes at work in The Alchemist I want to end this section with one that I often hear from my father: “be aware of your surroundings.” Thanks to Paige McTernan’s blog post involving these codes, I was able to see how important nature is to understanding the Soul of the World. While traveling through the desert, Santiago gets rid of his book and instead decides to focus on observing his surroundings, which leads him to learning more about the desert’s language. The idea that remaining present is given further emphasis by the Englishman’s inability to grasp alchemy; he stays absorbed in his books during their travels and fails to learn the universal language. The omens are laid out before Santiago, embodied in the animals, elements, and people he interacts with. The fact that once Santiago achieves the enormous feat of speaking to the Soul of the World he becomes a simum—a strong sand cyclone—further proves that the Soul of the World and nature are closely tied together.
Networks of Controlling Values
Since cultural narratives govern how we see the world, they often find their ways into texts. These cultural narratives are made up of a purpose and a context: “For every purpose (solution) there is a context (problem). The purpose operates as a valued compensation for the persistence of the context (a problem that continues to assert itself in multiple situations); the context then acts as a warrant for the purpose, that is, the context provides a sufficient reason for the rhetor to pursue the worthy aim of the purpose. The negative context and positive purpose may both be articulated as some way of being, doing, or having that results in a consequence: an unpleasant consequence for the context, and for the purpose a desirable end” (Kopp).
While trying to formulate versions of The Alchemist’s controlling values I began to think that the first purpose could be: pursuing your Personal Legend leads to success and fulfillment. The context for this purpose could be: abandoning your Personal Legend will lead to regret and unfulfillment. For the opposing controlling value I wanted to think of it in terms of a different character, for instance the crystal merchant. If we envision what he would be ruled by, the purpose could be: forgoing your Personal Legend will lead to a comfortable and safe life. The context for this opposing purpose would then be: achieving your Personal Legend will lead to disappointment and nothing to live for.
Santiago is ruled by the first purpose, whereas the crystal merchant lives by the opposing purpose. Both believe strongly in their way of doing things, and while the crystal merchant’s life wouldn’t be considered “unfulfilled” exactly, he still has abandoned his soul’s mission on earth and thus will never truly achieve the level of fulfillment that Santiago and the alchemist have.
Part 4
Submitting to and Resisting the Narrative
In “A Rhetoric of Reading,” James Seitz claims that reading is similar to a social interaction: a conversation taking place between the author and the reader. According to Seitz, as a reader, I bring to the text my experiences and my biases, which influence how I’ll interpret what I’m reading. “It appears that readers serve not only as addressees, but that readers themselves address the text through their dispositions towards the mock or implied readers they are asked to enact,” (Seitz 142). Each text expects us to take on a new role as we read it, and our responses to these roles are an aspect of the social exchange between the writer and reader. In order to full grasp the intended meaning of The Alchemist, I must submit to the text and become the ideal reader. But it’s impossible to fully submit to any text, and it’s my job to build off of my classmate Angela Faustino’s blog post and attempt to understand those moments of resistance and attempt to understand them.
Very early in the narrative, I had my first major resistance. When I read what Santiago presumed about the Gypsy woman, I brought my own values and knowledge into the text. I said to myself “What a stereotypical description. How could a book beloved by so many in the world contain something so daft?” A loud inner voice told me to put the book down and denounce it, but I knew that I had to go on. That inner voice was one of my virtual readers: “virtual readers of all sorts may call for attention if one feels in any way resistant to the values of the implied reader” (Seitz 149). My own knowledge about the stereotypes surrounding Gypsies influenced how I was perceiving the text, but I have a theory: Coelho intended the reader to have a moment of resistance. The reason I suspect this is due to Santiago’s apparent ignorance at the onset of his journey. Based on my past experiences with the adventure genre and narratives in general, I assumed that perhaps Santiago was flawed, and that the Gypsy was likely honest.
Seitz claims that this is to be expected, “we not only keep track of specific events but also imagine what these events might mean in terms of the story as a whole; only a reader who is in some sense dysfunctional would wait until the narrative were completed before attempting a guess at the author’s intentions,” (Seitz 146). I assumed that the inserted stereotype was meant to halt my submission—especially given that the claims surrounding the Gypsy were so outrageous and contrasting to her demeanor—so we can see Santiago’s starting point, and then watch as he progresses in the world and grows as a character.
A similar moment of resistance presented itself when Santiago first came to Africa. When he saw the people of different faiths praying, he made another rash judgement: “‘A practice of infidels,’ he said to himself. As a child in church, he had always looked at the image of Saint Santiago Matamoros on his white horse, his sword unsheathed, and figures such as these kneeling as his feet. The boy felt ill and terribly alone. The infidels had an evil look about them,” (Coelho 36-37). As he navigated this new land, I rightly assumed that he’d grow to embrace the different cultures and learn from the various people he met.
While I was able to predict much of The Alchemist’s endgame, I still found myself submitting to the text—though I knew when a surprise was coming, I never knew what the surprise would be—specifically in the meaningful scenes. As Santiago speaks to the wind he says “I have inside me the winds, the deserts, the oceans, the stars, and everything created in the universe. We were all made by the same hand, and we have the same soul,” (Coelho 151). This beautiful sentiment deeply contrasts with the Santiago we meet at the beginning of the tale. He’s now come to understand that we’re all just humans, no matter the religion or culture. He goes on to speak to the sun about love: “It is we who nourish the Soul of the World, and the world we live in will either be better or worse, depending on whether we become better or worse. And that’s where the power of love comes in. Because when we love, we always strive to become better than we are,” (Coelho 155). In these scenes, I submitted to the narrative and was able to glimpse the underlying meaning that makes this book treasured across the world. We are all the same, yet so uniquely different. Love is universal and it unites everyone under the sun. We are all individuals capable of great things, and perhaps simply striving to be better is a step towards becoming better in and of itself.
Narrators and Addressees: The Four Audiences
With the submissive and resistant moments of The Alchemist in mind, I want to discover what role I was being asked to play by the narrative. When I submitted to the text, who was I becoming? According to Peter J. Rabinowitz in “Truth in Fiction: A Reexamination of Audiences,” there are four basic audiences at play in any given narrative: the actual audience, the authorial audience, the narrative audience, and the ideal narrative audience. The actual audience “consists of flesh-and-blood people who read the book,” and the author has no control over them, but the other three audiences are much more complex.
Rabinowitz claims “the author of a novel designs his work rhetorically for a specific hypothetical audience . . . we must, as we read, come to share, in some measure, the characteristics of this audience if we are to understand the text,” (Rabinowitz 126). The author assumes that we have prior knowledge, or at least enough to be able to understand and interact with the text. This first hypothetical audience is the authorial audience. In The Alchemist, the authorial audience is likely someone looking for some sort of guidance in life.
The book reads as an exalting outlook on existence and humanity, which leads me to believe that perhaps the authorial audience is someone looking for either a simple adventure, or perhaps something more inspirational. Based on the biblical and other religious references, this audience has some prior knowledge of religions, and perhaps other philosophies. Melchizedek is a biblical character, and despite my knowledge of the bible I did not recall ever hearing about him. However, Abraham and Joseph are also mentioned in the book, and even without much prior knowledge to the bible, I believe that most would recognize at least one of their names, even if they do not know of the stories. I assume that the audience is intended to have this knowledge because the biblical characters are mentioned, but not truly explained, therefore the audience was meant to already know, or at least be smart enough to understand based on the context. Just having the hint of religious knowledge allows the reader to see that there is more going on in the plot of this book than a simple journey. The abstract philosophical commentary grounded by the quest for a Personal Legend leads me to believe that Coelho believed his readers would come to this book with an open mind, and likely an open heart.
Next is the narrative audience, which the reader becomes by pretending to be who the narrator themselves is addressing. The point of view is third person omniscient, though the narrator primarily focuses on Santiago as he undergoes his journey. My classmate Angela Faustino believes that the narrator “addresses the audience as if they were their students,” (Faustino). In many ways Santiago represents a student—undergoing a transformation by gaining knowledge and meeting new people with different perspectives. The fact that the narrator focuses so intently on Santiago leads me to agree with Faustino’s interpretation of the narrative audience; we become the alchemist’s pupil and learn the secrets of the world with Santiago. The narrative audience is going on this journey alongside Santiago, gaining new knowledge as he does and growing. The further we get into the narrative, and the more confident Santiago becomes in his newfound worldview, the more confident we become. “The narrator wants the readers to be patient and grow more and more in touch with the world around us as Santiago does,” (Faustino). In many ways, as Santiago considers his Personal Legend, we too begin to wonder what our own destiny has in store for us.
To step into the role of the narrative audience we also must suspend disbelief. The fantasy elements involved call on the narrative audience to accept what the authorial audience would call scientifically impossible. If we’re to become who the narrator is addressing, we must become part of the world the narrative takes place in. “Jules Vern’s From the Earth to the Moon has obviously lost much of its impact as science fiction now that moon voyages have become a part of our lives. If we wish to read it and get anything like the intended effect, we must first, as authorial audience, pretend not to believe in moon travel so that we can then, as narrative audience, pretend to be convinced that it is possible,” (Rabinowitz 128). It’s similar to how we’re able to forgive villains/antiheroes in our favorite books or television shows despite the fact that the crimes they’ve committed are likely unimaginable in our reality. We’re donning a new mask and taking on a new role so we can become immersed in the story and grasp its meaning.
Lastly is the ideal narrative audience, which simply accepts uncritically whatever the narrator has to say. Unlike the authorial audience, or even the narrative audience, the ideal narrative audience would not be shocked that Santiago was able to turn himself into the wind or that he sells his flock and gives up his livelihood on what some would call a whim, or that Fatima would have been totally cool with the love of her life heading into the dangerous desert for an unknown amount of time. The ideal narrative audience does not blink at any of Santiago’s decisions, or any of the events. The narrative audience is meant to take on the role of a student alongside Santiago, but still critiques certain decisions the characters make. “This final audience believes the narrator accepts his judgements, sympathizes with his plight, laughs at his jokes even when they are bad,” (Rabinowitz 134). The ideal narrative audience drinks the kool-aid, and hangs off of the novels every word.
Personal Legend Achieved
Reflection
When I first began “How Writers Read,” I felt fear for the first time in an academic setting since I bombed the math portion of a placement test during my freshman year of college. Over my time at Rowan College of South Jersey and Rowan University, I have always embodied confidence when it came to academics, specifically writing and reading related coursework. This course made me question whether I truly knew anything about reading. But I now realize that sometimes the lessons you truly have to grasp for can be the most rewarding.
According to the Writing Arts Core Value 1, “Writing Arts students will demonstrate the ability to critically read complex and sophisticated texts in a variety of subjects.” Before “How Writers Read, I would have beamed with undeserved pride and claimed that of course I could critically read complex texts in multiple subjects. Now, having crossed the threshold into actual critical analysis, I’ve emerged bloody and bruised, but beaming nonetheless. I may not be an expert, but through my dedication and (somehow excellent) time management, I’ve managed to come away with a new understanding of what it truly means read critically. I’m now able to notice more often when my own personal projections are distorting the meanings of what I’m reading, and I can attempt to step into a different role.
Not only has my understanding of reading undergone a transformation, but my writing has as well. By looking over my own writing with some of these theories in mind I’ve come away with not only better prose, but a deeper appreciation for the toil necessary to produce incredible narratives. A lot of my prior success has been due to my affinity for writing, but now I feel as though I don’t have to rely solely on base skill; I can try new ways to hone my craft and continue reaching and growing until I become the best possible writer that I can be. This course has even inspired me to attempt new genres that I never envisioned myself writing.
Reading The Alchemist with these various theories of reading and writing in mind has opened my eyes to the truly complex processes between writer and reader. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to read another book on such a surface level again after delving so deeply into these texts. I feel as though an intense power has been bestowed upon me and it’s as if this was destined to be a step on my journey towards my own Personal Legend. To end our pilgrimage through The Alchemist’s many layers,I’d like to leave you with a quote from the book that made me smile:
“He thought of the many roads he had traveled, and of the strange way God had chosen to show him his treasure. If he hadn’t believed in the significance of recurrent dreams, he would not have met the Gypsy woman, the king, the thief, or . . . ‘Well it’s a long list. But the path was written in omens, and there was no way I could go wrong’ he said to himself.”
(Coelho 169)
Works Cited
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