Alienation

I was at a talk by a Thai author and his English translator today. At one point when they were discussing one of his recent novels, the translator remarked that a number of reviewers had picked up a strong sense of alienation in the novel. The author replied that the alienation had nothing to do with the present-day illiberal political climate in Thailand. He felt like an alien in any place he inhabited. That statement struck  a chord with me. The feeling of not belonging anywhere, of simultaneously yearning to belong and silently feeling grateful for not belonging. Of being pulled towards people and feeling like running away from them. The constant tug-of-war between the ache of loneliness and the comfort of solitude. I might not be a "creative" in the conventional sense of the word but I do see myself as a writer. And, I think writers are like a duck's skin. They inhabit their milieu of their subject but don't allow it to inhabit them. Reflection, especially critical reflection, needs distance as much as it needs closeness to the subject. Just like the duck's skin, which even when immersed in water, doesn't get wet. I am not saying writers need to feel a sense of alienation. All I'm saying is those who do face these challenges are likely to be writers or some other creative type.