Throughout reading about Ana’s childhood, I became immensely interested in the change that took place within her at the point where she uncovered the documents of her ancestor’s travels. Before she came across the vintage diaries, she had always considered herself an outlier in society. There was also somewhat of a negative feeling attached to this opinion of herself- the foundation of her judgment came from the stabilized ideologies of her European community. She understood that her expectations in life were not being met when she was immersed in the reality of her limitations. However, at that point in her youth there wasn’t a direct focus on what she was missing.
A lot of young adults feel this way when faced the daunting task of forming their identities. There is this gap where you recognize what you aren’t, but you’re not quite sure of what you are. Ana is going through the ominous phase that none of us want to relive- one of adolescence mayhem. This vulnerability to influences is what I find one of the most thought-provoking points in the novel. That she came across a journal full of treacherous voyages and prideful conquests is a fortunate occurrence. Those books were there the catalysts that impregnated her mind with images of untamable pride and voyages. Unconsciously, she was craving an inspirational text of substance.
However, these books that exposed her to the world beyond her balcony also made her dissatisfied with the mediocrity of everyday life. There existed the same feeling that follows those whose inspirations have brought their minds beyond their physical boundaries. Knowledge is both a blessing a curse. The stories of explorations molded her character in way that conflicted with her lifestyle. She wants to become an adventurer and play with the natural world, but that’s just impossible. Ana adores the engrossing concepts that color her thoughts, but she knows that they won’t form into feasible plans. I find this internal conflict both fascinating and familiar.
Like Ana, I’ve often immersed myself into books that depict a world of the past that can never exist again. I’ve sunk into literature that both rouse and motivate me to become something impossible- whether that be a character in Oscar Wilde’s fairy tales, a languid French poet, a wise bard from Mesopotamia, or even a 1960’s beatnik. With exposure, there is an inevitable pain that laches onto the pleasure of awakening. Even in sacred text, this theme is prominent. When Eve bit the apple from the tree of knowledge, her mind became aware of the vices and virtues of the human race. Ana gained the ability to judge, and with that she could evaluate what she possessed and lacked. Though ignorance is cushioning, it prevents the individual from experiencing the pleasure that’s fastened onto inevitable discomfort.