Now if a rude gust should arise and bear
A yet unripened orange to the dust,
Shall I describe this as unfair or fair,
Shall I pronounce it tyrannous or just?
Where is the evil if we all must die?
Why clamour and appeal from what is right?
(Shahnameh {Epic of the Kings}, Ferdowsi, the story of Rustam and Sohrab)
People have all sorts of wrong ideas about what makes a piece of fiction a work of Fantasy and therefore fail to grasp the meaning and significance of the genre. One of the best recent examples that sheds a pleasant beam of moonlight on the joys of reading Fantasy is episode 6 of the series Sandman. Needless to say by reading I mean more an encounter with any creative work on any given medium and not just facing words on a page.
In the first part of the said episode, Sound of Her Wings, we have Death, yet another of the seven archetypical Endless and older sister of Dream Lord on her various assignments and if we manage to comprehend the beauty Neil Gaiman has inserted into this short and concise but subtle piece, we will find life a more amusing journey.
Death (Kirby Howell-Baptiste) and (Dream) Tom Sturridge encounter a man near death. (Photo from Netflix)
This picture is ever more precious to me since in Persian culture, very much like Christianity, death is not portrait as something bearable let alone pleasant. In Iran, with all the ceremonies and traditions, it becomes almost impossible for the wound over losing a dear one to scab anytime soon. There are ceremonies to hold on the first, third, seventh and fortieth day of someone's passing and then there is the yearly one. Some happy nation we are, right?
It gets even worse when you're constantly told the angel of death is this scary figure unless you've committed no sin and who's to say they've done nothing wrong, ever? So, above the fear of unknown, there's the fear of torture at the moment death comes to collect your soul. So how am I supposed to live my life when I know somewhere on the line, reaper is just waiting menacingly to shred me into specks?
That's why the picture given in Gaiman's story is counted as an added therapeutic bonus to me because Death in here, is not an angry spirit coming to collect me savagely. She's rather a helping hand, a guide of some sort to help me get to the other plain. What happens there is not up to her.
I understand the fear of unknown is a grain deep in all of us humans but why should we have been fed such a sickening diet while growing up is something I do not get. Obviously I can't say I'm happy by people dying. I miss some of them dearly and believe me, I know that sense of loss. And I do believe there might be some people you can't afford to lose but as much as my own death is considered here, I'm not really worried. Of course I prefer an easier exit rather than say being bed-ridden but generally speaking I'm glad I get to die some day. As someone once said, Death is but the next great adventure.
Who is there, chieftain! free from dread of Death?
However long or short the way may be
We scatter when he joineth company. (ibid)
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