Wind, Sand and Stars

Just prior to visiting Japan this year, I had read Convenience Store Woman by Murata, which turned out to be the best possible preparation for a travel I had ever done. It gave me a feel for Japan (and its convenience stores), which no guide book could have ever given. In that vein, I went into Wind, Sand and Stars in preparation for a sailing trip to Gothenburg.

This is easily some of the most romantic writing that I have ever read, with a heavy dose of optimism and love for humanity and nature and flying. But it was also thought-provoking, light and beautifully written.

In the last third of the book Saint-Exupéry recounts his crash and struggle in the desert, which almost became the end of him. Intertwined with this is a reflection upon the human condition. And here I found what I hoped for when deciding to read this book.

On page 130:

The airplane is not an end, but a means. It is not for the sake of the airplane that one risks their life, any more than the farmer plows for the sake of the plow. But with the help of the airplane, one can leave the cities and their office workers and rediscover the old and healthy problems.

The aviator performs a human task and understands human worries. He is in contact with the wind, the stars, and the night, with the sand and the sea. He cunningly uses nature's forces. He awaits the arrival of morning, like a gardener awaits spring. He looks towards his airport as if it were a promised land, and he seeks his truth in the stars.

Note: I read the Danish translation.