Kingdom of the Golden Dragon (37 page)

This strength was severely tested in 1992 when Isabel's daughter became critically ill with the rare blood disorder porphyria and fell into a coma. Isabel stayed by her bedside and wrote her a letter, in an attempt to express her love and grief and bewilderment, but her daughter never regained consciousness. The letter became Isabel's soul-baring memoir
Paula
, a literary tour de force which Isabel describes as “the most important book that I will ever write. It is the event that marked me the most, that changed me the most. It is something that I remember every single day.” She continues: “After Paula's death I thought I was never going to write again. I had to pull myself out of a very dark place.”

She didn't write again for three years. “I would sit in front of my computer and nothing would come out. And then I remembered that I was a journalist—sure, I was a lousy journalist—but I could research a subject. So I gave myself a theme that would be as far removed from death as possible. I decided to write about food and sex.” The result was
Aphrodite
, a celebration of the senses. She recalls the research gleefully: “I just started asking people what turns them on, wonderful stuff came up, fantastic stories.”

And, Isabel insists, it is the stories that count. “If I can hear a story, if I can tell a story, that is the most important thing.” This love affair with words goes back to her childhood in Chile. “I was greedy for stories. I would read anything. I was always enchanted by the poetry of Pablo Neruda because he could say things in a way that would amaze me. He would describe olive oil as liquid gold, and suddenly I could see it that way. It was a revelation.” Even now, after several novels, a collection of short stories, three memoirs, and a trilogy for children, the process of writing still excites her. “I jump out of bed very early, put on my makeup and high heels, and run to my little casita at the back of the house and work all day. I am totally immersed in the story. I go through the threshold and I enter a space that is mysterious. Inside is the story, and my job is to show up in front of the computer every day and illuminate that space word by word until the characters come to life.”

About the book

A Conversation with Isabel Allende

Your adventure trilogy
—City of the Beasts, Kingdom of the Golden Dragon,
and
Forest of the Pygmies
—
has been published for both young adults and adults. How do you explain its crossover appeal?

Most books for young adults are also read by adults. I am very careful with style, language, and research. I do not underestimate my young readers; I treat them as if they were experienced readers. Maybe that's why adults are also reading this trilogy.

What are the differences between writing for adults and children?

I think that writing for young adults requires more action, velocity, dialogue, and humor than for adults. A strong plot and memorable characters are important. Less description is probably better. But in either case—for adults or for teenagers—I am very careful with language. I want quality and, if possible, beauty in the writing. I write the kind of book I would like to read, so I expected this trilogy to appeal to adults as well as to a younger readership, and in fact it has happened. I get good feedback from adult readers who are young at heart and enjoy adventure.

Did you enjoy the challenge?

I enjoyed the challenge very much! And I learned a new genre. My hardest critics are my grandchildren. They always teach me a lot.

What is your most vivid memory of childhood?

Stories. I was a great reader and I invented stories for my brothers. I read with a candle in the cellar of my grandfather's house, I read inside my stepfather's armoire, I read in bed with a flashlight under the covers. My head was full of stories and it still is.

You've dedicated the book “to my friend Tabra Tunoa, tireless traveler, who took me to the Himalayas and told me about the Golden Dragon.”

My friend Tabra Tunoa took me to India and Nepal. We trekked in the Himalayas (not too high, though). She told me about Tibet and Bhutan. I was impressed by the landscape of tall mountains and beautiful valleys. The people are unforgettable. Their culture and religion are based on tolerance and compassion.

Did you eat the monks' diet of tsampa, as well as local delicacies? What did each taste like?

I ate the local food. Tsampa and tea with yak butter had a slightly stale and smoky taste, but you soon get used to it. Mainly we ate simple vegetarian food; there is very little meat available.

Is the Hidden Kingdom a real place, like Mustang, or imagined?

The model for the kingdom of my book is Bhutan, but it is an imaginary place.

Do you think writing about it could be harmful in that more people will want to visit and therefore begin to destroy the harmonious balance?

Only a few tourists a year are allowed in Bhutan. I didn't feel the need to protect the country from visitors because the government and the people do it fiercely.

Did you do a great deal of research?

Yes, I had to do much research for each one of the books. But I am used to it because I have written numerous historical novels and even a book about aphrodisiacs that required research. Usually I work alone, but often I wish I had a good team of researchers; it would help a lot.

What would you suggest people read to find out more?

I read dozens of books. The best ways to start are a good travel book or the Internet. Research is not difficult. Once you get started, one thing leads to the other. As you peel the layers, you go deeper and deeper into the subject.

Do you have a totemic animal?

I had a very important dream in which I discovered that my totemic animal is the eagle. I do not particularly like eagles. I have seldom seen one, and I do not know why this bird is my spirit animal. When I meditate, often I feel that I can see from above and can fly great distances. The eagle is solitary and fierce. Am I that way? I have no idea

Why that particular one? What does it say about you as a person?

The fact that the eagle is always in the air, far above everything else, gives it distance to see what others do not see. Maybe that is why I am a storyteller. I observe quietly from a distance and thus I get the stories.

Is Buddhism important to you?

Buddhism is very attractive to me, but I am not a religious person. I have a private spiritual practice, but I do not belong to any church.

Is there a special skill from any of the three books that you wish you had, for example, being invisible, reading auras, fighting in the Tao-shu style, talking with and understanding animals?

I would like to have all the skills that I mention in the trilogy! I would love to be able to fly or to transform myself into an eagle—wouldn't you? But what I envy the most is the innocence and courage of Nadia and Alex.

Do you believe in yetis?

I believe that the world is a very mysterious place. Anything is possible, including yetis.

Are the Blue Warriors based on a real gang?

The Blue Warriors are based on a tribe of nomads in northern India who worship the scorpion. They have that name because the dye used in their clothes tints their skin a dark blue color.

What is your most treasured memory of that trip?

My best memory is trying to communicate in broken English and sign language with the sherpas, the monks, and the people in the remote villages. They are beautiful people. Their faces are soft, they are polite and calm, and they always smile.

Did you bring back any souvenirs?

I brought back some old beads and thousands of photographs, but I am not a collector of souvenirs. I collect stories, images, sounds, and smells. I store them in my head and my heart, and sooner or later I use them in my writing.

Has writing these high-velocity adventure stories had any lasting impact on the way you plot and craft your novels?

Not that I am aware of, though in every book I learn something. Each book has its own tone, rhythm, style. I can't use a formula or a recipe.

I have the feeling that every time I have to invent everything from scratch.

Could you give your readers some hint of what they can look forward to in the final book in the trilogy
, Forest of the Pygmies?

Nadia Santos and Alex Cold are on a safari in Africa with the grandmother, Kate, who is a travel writer. Their small bush plane crashes in northern Congo, in a tropical jungle, and my characters end up in a very isolated village where a terrible king/military man/wizard has imposed a regime of terror and is enslaving and exterminating the pygmies. Nadia and Alex get involved in trying to help, but this is not the usual story of the white foreigners who save the natives, like Tarzan. They are willing to learn, work in a team, and take orders from those who have more experience. These brave young people will risk their lives several times, as they did in the Amazon and the Himalayas, but now they are older, they know the risks better, they understand fear, and also they have stronger feelings for each other.

Alex and Nadia's Adventures Continue An Excerpt from
Forest of the Pygmies

A
T AN ORDER FROM THE GUIDE
, Michael Mushaha, the elephant caravan came to a stop. The suffocating heat of midday was beginning, when the creatures of the vast nature preserve rested. Life paused for a few hours as the African earth became an inferno of burning lava, and even hyenas and vultures sought the shade. Alexander Cold and Nadia Santos were riding a willful bull elephant named Kobi. The animal had taken a liking to Nadia, because during their time together she had made an effort to learn the basics of the elephant's language in order to communicate with him. During their long treks, she told him about her country, Brazil, a distant land that had no creature as large as he, other than some ancient, legendary beasts hidden deep in the heart of South America's mountains. Kobi appreciated Nadia as much as he detested Alexander, and he never lost an opportunity to demonstrate both sentiments.

Kobi's five tons of muscle and fat shivered to a halt in a small oasis beneath dusty trees kept alive by a pool of water the color of milky tea. Alexander had developed his own style of jumping to the ground from his nine-foot-high perch without mauling himself too badly, since in the five days of their safari he still had not gained the animal's cooperation. He was not aware that this time Kobi had positioned himself in such a way that when Alex jumped down, he landed in a puddle of water up to his knees. Borobá, Nadia's small black monkey, then jumped on top of him. As Alex struggled to pry the monkey off his head, he lost his balance and plopped down on his seat. He cursed to himself, shook off Borobá, and only with difficulty regained his footing because he couldn't see through his glasses, which were dripping filthy water. As he was looking for a clean corner of his T-shirt to wipe the lenses, the elephant thumped him on the back with his trunk, a blow that propelled him face first into the puddle. Kobi waited for Alex to pull himself up, then turned his monumental rear end and unleashed a Pantagruelian blast in his face. The other members of the safari greeted the prank with a chorus of guffaws.

Nadia was in no hurry to get down; she waited for Kobi to help her dismount in a more dignified manner. She stepped upon the knee he offered her, steadied herself on his trunk, and then leaped to the ground with the grace of a ballerina. The elephant was not that considerate with anyone else, not even Mushaha, for whom he had respect but not affection. Kobi was an elephant with clear principles. It was one thing to transport tourists on his back, a job like any other, for which he was rewarded with excellent food and mud baths. It was something entirely different to perform circus tricks for a handful of peanuts. He liked peanuts, he couldn't deny that, but he received much more pleasure from tormenting people like Alexander. Why did the American get under his skin? The animal wasn't sure, it was a matter of chemistry. He didn't like the fact that Alex was always hanging around Nadia. There were thirteen elephants in the caravan, but he had to ride with the girl. It was very inconsiderate of Alex to get between Nadia and him that way. Didn't he realize that they needed privacy for their conversations? A good whack with the trunk and occasionally breaking wind in Alex's face were just what that young man deserved. Kobi trumpeted loudly once Nadia was down and had thanked him by planting a big kiss on his trunk. The girl had good manners; she would never humiliate him by offering him peanuts.