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Castle of Wisdom (Paperback)
by Rhett Ellis
| Category:
Inspiration, Fiction |
| Market price: ¥ 118.00
MSL price:
¥ 108.00
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| Stock:
Pre-order item, lead time 3-7 weeks upon payment [ COD term does not apply to pre-order items ] |
MSL rating:
 Good for Gifts |
| MSL Pointer Review:
A story about man's search for the meaning of life, full of suspense and symbolism, Castle of Wisdom is bound to go down as a classic. |
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Author: Rhett Ellis
Publisher: Sparkling Bay Books
Pub. in: December, 1999
ISBN: 0967063108
Pages: 142
Measurements: 8.6 x 5.6 x 0.3 inches
Origin of product: USA
Order code: BA00044
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- MSL Picks -
It is obvious that you can't separate being wise and being successful. We treat wisdom as one crucial element in man's success. That's why great people always have a lot to enlighten and share with us. And for this reason, we actually treat wisdom as part of success.
Castle of Wisdom by Rhett Ellis is an amazing book, the very best of its kind. It is about a curious young man named Elias who wants to know the purpose of his existence, the meaning of life. Around his village's bonfires he had heard a story about a mysterious stranger who passed through his country bearing a message from a strange old castle called "Wisdom." The young man is intrigued by the legend of the stranger so at the urging of a village elder he sets out to find the Castle of Wisdom for himself. What a journey he has!! Along the way he encounters many hardships but also many victories. He learns much in the course of his journey too, more than he really wanted to know. The great reward in the end is that he learns the meaning of life.
Castle of Wisdom is a deep book with a powerful message about life.
Target readers:
General readers
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- Better with -
Better with
The Purpose-Driven Life: What on Earth Am I Here For? [LARGE PRINT]
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From the Publisher:
Castle of Wisdom is the gripping story of Elias, a curious young man who leaves his tiny village to search for a mysterious old ruin called The Castle of Wisdom where, according to legend, he may find inscription that reveals the Master-Truth, the greatest of all secrets. His journey carries him through danger, romance, pain, joy, hopelessness, defeat, and deep love, all the way to ultimate victory.
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I sat beside a stream and contemplated a blade of grass. There it was, as green as it could be, sharp on the edges, soft in the middle. I looked at it up close. I twisted it around it in my fingers and turned it over and over in my mind. At the regional school, we had been studying structure of things. With millions of cells, billions of molecules, and trillions of atoms, each alive in their own way and all of them dependant on the whole of everything else for their stage of being, could the blade of grass have been a cosmological accident? Yes, maybe it was just some kind of chance happening that the blade of grass and all there is, from the swirling galaxies to chirping crickets existed, but I did not think so. Or, more accurately, I did not feel so.
I reclined in the grass and studied the sky. Puffy, white clouds soared overhead with the grace of swans, and like a conquering warrior, the sun marched slowly from horizon to horizon. I had heard that on a high mountain somewhere beyond that edge of the sky there was a castle called Wisdom. Its builder was a king. He was supposed to have been the wisest man who ever lived, one who had discovered the purpose of our existence.
I had heard of the castle around my village bonfire. There was a story, a story told by the oldest of our elders. He said that a strange once passed through our land. His name had been forgotten, but his appearance had not been. The strange was a very old man with a long grey beard and many small scars on his face, hands and feet. The elder did not know when the stranger had come, perhaps hundreds of years in the past, but he did know the stranger had claimed he had visited the castle. I rose from my seat in the grass, hoisted my bundle of wood, and walked back to the village. There would be a bonfire that night, and I wanted to hear the story about the stranger again.
My village's bonfires were held every new moon, although there was always much joking and laugher, the bonfires were sacred occasions. The elders told the old stories, the stories that gave us identity, made us brave, and made us happy to be alive.
The night's bonfires began in the customary way with the lighting of leaves and twigs. The children were given little bunches of straw to be dipped in the perpetual fire. With expressions of wonder and joy, they each took their turn placing their burning straw around the edges of the Circle of the Great Fire in the dry leaves and twigs. The leaves began to smoke and crackle, and the fire more toward the center of the circle to the large pile of wood. From the time of the lighting of the leaves to the time when the flames leaped high in the night sky, there was always chatter, teasing, and joviality. The old man gathered on one side of the circle and smoked their pipes. The old women gathered on the other to repeat gossip from neighboring villages. Young lovers sat close to each other, held hands, and stared dreamy-eyed into the fire, and children played their games just beyond the edge of the assembly. It had always been my favorite part of the night of the new moon. The village seemed to become a family at that time.
When the flames were at their peak, shooting into the air like a giant, frightened hawk, our chief gave the drummer the signal to begin the song of dance. The drummer began to beat slowly on the large, skin covered, hollow log, and those of us who were no longer children (I was the oldest of these) but not yet adults rose and began the dance around the fire. We stomped our feet and swayed to the rhythm of the drum. As we danced, the adults joined in and then the children until everyone in the village was dancing except for the very, very old and the babies they held tenderly in their arms.
When the dancing was finished, we were all tired, thirsty, and hungry. The flames had subsided, and fire was burning steadily and evenly in the center of the circle. Eight or nine of the men went to retrieve the freshly slaughtered pigs. The pigs were suspended near the center of the long poles, the ends of which were placed on supports at the edge of the circle. As the meat roasted over the fire, the aroma filled my nostrils and my hunger deepened. Fruit drinks were being passed around in wooden cups and bowls, and I drank intensely like a man just emerged from a desert. When the meat finished roasting, we ate. I began to feel very sleepy, but just before I began to doze, the story telling again, and the drowsiness departed. Wide awake with fascination, I sat upright and listened, enchanted with every word.
The elders spoke with the eloquence of the poets. They often closed their eyes, envisioning the resplendent days of antiquity, pouring all their emotions into their voices. Their stories were a wonder to me, and I never doubted any of them. They told of the journey of Mabo to the far reaches of the west and how he returned with the perpetual fire. They told of the great hunt when the men of the villages killed a thousand of sharp-clawed lions and made coats of their skins, ending forever the pervasive terror of lions in our land. They told of the adventure of Prince Tynus in the land of the White Mountains and how he returned with the greatest treasure of the place, a man of learning who became his advisor and established the regional schools in our country.
The children had long fallen asleep, my friends growing restless, and the time of the story telling was almost finished when I rose to my feet. There was always a long interlude between the stories, a time for the stories to sink deeply into our minds and hearts, and on occasion, someone (but never one who was not yet an adult) would request a favorite story during this time. I knew that I was very close to breaking custom (perhaps I was breaking custom) so I did not lift my eyes when I spoke.
My voice grow weak, as I trembled as I said, "Fathers, I would hear the story of the stranger who passed through our land from the Castle of Wisdom." I sat down on my deer skin rug and waited. There was a long silence. I would not lift my head, but I glanced across the glowing embers to the place where the elders seated. They were whispering to each other. Their faces were serious, and I was afraid that I would be punished for impudence and disrespect.
The rest of the villages began to whisper, sit up straight, and stir about. I could hear my name echoing around the Circle of the Great Fire in tones that reminded me of the wind in golden grass. I was paralyzed with embarrassment and fear, and I was thinking of running into the woods when the oldest of the elders lifted his staff from beside the bundle of the skins upon which he was sitting, placed one end of the staff on the earth, and slowly elevated himself. Shaking as he stood upright and balanced…
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An American reader (MSL quote), USA
<2006-12-27 00:00>
First, let me say that I do not believe that Castle of Wisdom is a book for every reader. It is a strange book, and it is controversial too.
Castle of Wisdom's point of view is that of conservative Christianity, which means that those who accept the "morality of the moment" and "political correctness" might take offense from some of its implications.
Castle of Wisdom is the story of a man who ventures out of his native village to search for the meaning of life. According to legend, the meaning of life is written in stone at the "Castle of Wisdom" so the young man spends something like eighteen years searching for it.
The story held my attention very well, and I think I understood at least the first level of symbolism. I enjoyed the book, but again, I say that it is not for all readers. Just be prepared to think and to be challenged if you decide to read it. |
An American reader (MSL quote), USA
<2006-12-27 00:00>
My favorite part of Castle of Wisdom was when the main character lost his sanity. In a fictional biography that is a rare occurrence, and not one that is easily written, but I have to say, the author of "Castle of Wisdom" did a masterful job at pulling it off. I felt like I was sinking down into the depths of insanity with the main character, but I also felt like I was rising back to the surface when he recovered his mind and went on to find the meaning of life. "Castle of Wisdom" is such a great book. It is so refreshing to read something that is so out of the ordinary but so good. |
An American reader (MSL quote), USA
<2006-12-27 00:00>
The interesting thing about Castle of Wisdom is the symbolism. At once the story is action packed, full of romance, mysterious, etc., but the story reveals its true depths in its symbolism.
The story begins with a young man sitting beside a stream, looking at a blade of grass. The grass is sharp on the edges but soft in the middle - so already from the outset we know the main character is contemplating his own person (sharp on the edges, soft in the middle). The young man thinks that he would like to know the meaning of all existence - not just the meaning of life, but the meaning of absolutely everything. He wants to know WHY!
At the urging of a village elder, the young man leaves his village to search for the Castle of Wisdom, where he believes he will learn the final and most important truth of all.
What a journey he has - it makes for a great read. But again, the true meaning of the story is found in the beautiful symbolism. |
An American reader (MSL quote), USA
<2006-12-27 00:00>
More than anything else, I liked the characters in Castle of Wisdom, especially the main character. I could identify with his search for meaning in life. I thought the writing could have been better, but I did not think the story could have been. It held my attention all the way through, and for me that is the mark of a good story. |
View all 10 comments |
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