James Michener’s The Drifters is an exhil­a­rating and timeless novel that describes the lives of a group of young men and women who set out to discover the world for themselves. More than just a story, it is a presen­ta­tion of the lives of the young and the old, and the relation­ship between the gener­a­tions. Although it was written in the 1970s, the narra­tive maintains its relevance even today. In part, this is because the problems and preju­dices that are gradu­ally revealed by the author can be easily seen all around us today.

The narra­tion begins with the background stories of a variety of charac­ters, each extra­or­di­nary in his or her own way. Chance brings them together and they set out on a journey through Europe and Africa, in the search of meaning to their lives. Eventu­ally, their journey is seen to be a spiri­tual trans­for­ma­tion, rather than a mere explo­ration of places and people.

The appeal of this novel may be different for each kind of audience. The passage of time gives the current reader the benefit of hindsight; there are problems and problems, but will there ever be solutions in sight? The diverse group portrayed in this novel also raises the inter­esting question of allegiance — when it comes to the ‘crunch’, who will side with whom? If we can take away an impor­tant lesson from this novel, it is that the world as we know it today is the result of the choices made long ago: will we make the right choices today?

This theme of society and choice always lingers somewhere in the background, never quite raising its head until the very end. Until then, the author treats us to a world of excite­ment, rituals, sex and drugs, a world always in motion.

When I chanced to look at the map of the world today, I noticed that Seattle (where I am currently located) is almost level with many European nations in terms of geographic latitude, even though it is one of the Northern-most cities in the United States.

One of the striking differ­ences in day-to-day life when someone moves from India to the US is the length of the day. Back in Mumbai, a long summer day meant thirteen hours of daylight, but up here it would mean something like sixteen hours of bright daylight. Winter nights are just as long, and certainly as dreary as you would expect.

This made me wonder if there was some kind of human dispo­si­tion to flourish in a certain kind of climate. Is the routine of the tropics better for the biolog­ical clock? Certainly, summers and winters are far more conspic­uous in the temperate zones, providing a clock of sorts to keep track of the years. (“Another winter has finally passed.…”).

I always loved the ever-so-moderate climate of Mumbai, but now I think the variety offered by an extreme climate is almost as likeable.