local seagull becomes jesus ( )

This was remarkably okay. Astoundingly good at being neutral. I'd give it between 2.5 and 3 stars. It was all right.

The plot was interesting. The titular seagull discovers the meaning of life and is filled with purpose. But humanity (err, I mean, seagullity) being what it is, his companions think he's too radical and shun him. He lives a deeply fulfilling life as an outcast and then gradually reaches ever higher levels of being and consciousness.

So that was interesting. But the relatively simple parable quickly gets bogged down by its own philosophy. Jonathan's purpose was to fly for its own sake, to master the art of flight, and to keep learning and honing his skill. I like that that ties into a certain pride in one's work, and I feel that any kind of artist or performer or musician could relate to this need, this burning desire, to do things well. As Arthur Conan Doyle wrote, "Mediocrity knows nothing higher than itself, but talent instantly recognizes genius."

So that's fine, so far as it goes. But it makes for a very weak central principle to uphold a whole philosophy. Unlike certain religions, for example, which call people to the high purpose of loving each other and God, the seagull meaning of life of just learning to do something really well fails to deliver any major emotional payoff. Sure, Jonathan takes his flying lessons to the ultimate sci-fi/fantasy heights: he learns to do anything he wants, period, by removing any limitation. This goes from the simple (flying fast) to the extreme (teleportation) to the ludicrous (time travel and interplanetary travel) to the spiritual (coming back from the dead, because death is apparently just another limit that anyone can ignore). But it's not very well-handled. First of all, once time travel and interplanetary travel have been established as possible, they are both ignored entirely. I suppose that having Jonathan go back in time to right the wrongs he laments would make the book too long and too complicated. So he regrets the ignorance and waste of his flock, but he also doesn't go back in time to change things.

Second, the ultimate goal of flight perfection is a bit of a let-down. He and a few other gulls have overcome death and can spend eternity in a much higher realm (explicitly not heaven). They fly better than they ever could have before. But that's it. There's no god here, no higher meaning here, no perfect love, no reunion with other dead relatives, nothing behind the main goal of flying well. They form friendships with a handful of other non-dead gulls, but they also go their own way when they want to learn new things, so instead of togetherness, there is just a collection of individuals whose paths occasionally cross. Also, this is a higher realm that most gulls never find. Jonathan's parents, for example, are never seen again.

Most jarringly, the ideas of love and kindness, when they are stated, feel tacked-on. One seagull feels called to love his flock, so he returns to this lower level of reality to teach them the flying he knows. He doesn't use his superpowers to help them find food (even though the birds are hungry and are worried about food). Rather, he uses his wisdom to help them learn to fly really well for its own sake. If the ultimate goal in life is to be good at stuff, then I guess it makes sense that loving others would have less to do with supplying their need and more to do with just teaching them to be good at stuff, too. (Maybe I'm cynical, but I have this vision in my head of a food pantry where people are trying to fight world hunger, and someone donates a bunch of pianos saying that life's purpose is music, and if those poor people would just learn to play well, they wouldn't mind being so hungry all the time.) That's probably not fair, but when gulls are trying to feed their children, the instructor offering to teach them a perfect slow roll for the heck of it just feels callous.

Finally, I couldn't shake the feeling while reading that this whole story is meant as an implicit critique of religion. Jonathan insists that he's an ordinary seagull, but the other gulls believe that the is the Son-of-the-Great-Gull. He comes back from the dead (sort of). He is a radical outcast who has his own band of followers and students (disciples?). He heals the sick/injured. He raises the dead. He is transfigured—a word that never appears in the story, but when light is shining from him and his feathers turn whiter than the whitest white, what am I supposed to call it? They believe he came from heaven, but of course, in this story, there is no heaven and no god.

I read a relatively recent publication of this story, which included a final chapter not originally published. That fourth part is an explicit allusion to religion, with gulls praying and discussing the afterlife and making pilgrimages and building religious monuments. It didn't feel like part of the same story at all. The seagulls going so far down such a dark and disturbing path—all while Jonathan et al are able to time travel and prevent these misunderstandings, but don't—seems like lazy storytelling. Jonathan had been both great and misunderstood, but he was always willing to be there to help any gull who wanted to attain higher understanding. Now, in part four, he's just cold and uncaring about all of it. There is an author's note at the end explaining why he had originally left off that final chapter and why he was putting it back in now. He envisions himself in this note as two different people, then-him and now-him. He asserts that this fourth chapter belongs to then-him, and that now-him is just publishing it. But, isn't then-him also the one who removed the chapter in the first place all those years ago? He did it for a reason.

It's not just the out-there ending or the butchering of the beloved characters from before. If I had read just the original version, with the first three parts, I still wouldn't give it higher than probably a 3.5. It just missed the mark, for me. Interesting, but not as substantial as I would have liked. ( )

I am trying to make up my mind whether this book is worse than "The Alchemist". Tough call. I strongly suspect that both authors had great fun planning to kid us into believing their supposed wisdom and were as flabbergasted as I was when the books actually ended up being successful. ( )

#InANutshell: A great story but not for people like me.

As a person who detests the philosophical genre, I am the wrong _target reader for this book. But the pressures of giving a go at a much-loved classic led me to attempt this little novella. The result? Mixed feelings.

Jonathan Livingston Seagull tells us of a seagull who wants to fly, be the best flier he can, surpass all limitations set upon him by his gull body and go beyond to a whole new level of gull flight. The problem is that he belongs to a flock who want to go with the flow. Their mantra in life is: Why tamper with the status quo when you know what you have suffices your needs? The book seeks to educate and inspire to reach for the stars and not stick to the established.

The book is divided into four parts, the last of which wasn't a part of the original tale but available only in the refurbished version. I loved the first part where Jonathan rebels against his flock's norms and aims to daisy his longing to fly. His attempts won my heart. The second part is also great, with Jonathan realising that there are other realms and other achievements to conquer. The third and fourth parts went a bit too abstruse for my liking.

The book stresses on living not to survive but to be the best you can, to enjoy the journey rather than the destination, to find a greater purpose than the mundane... All of which are noble ideas but practically tough to implement in this competitive world.

On an aside, I found it amusing to see all those long-winded triple names attached to gulls. Imagine a Terrence Lowell Gull and a Charles Roland Gull! They added a cute amount of snobbery to the story.

My edition was beautiful, with many gull photos (though only in black-and-white) to add to the charm. If you are a fan of this book or these types of fables, try to pick up this edition.

One line that struck a chord with me:
The gull sees farthest who flies highest.

All in all, I think this can be a very good read for those who seek the meaning between the lines, the deeper truths in life, and the purpose of existence. But if you are like me, you may safely skip it.


A 2.5 from me, rounding up to 3.




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A very mannered Ram Dass style Christ allegory presented in the cringe-inducing language of white-guy-Eastern-spirituality. I assume mind-altering drugs lent this story a profundity in the minds of 70’s readers that isn’t there in the text alone. ( )