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“It is as if, then, the beauty—the beauty of
the sea, the land, the air, the trees, the market, the people, the sounds they
make—were a prison, and as if everything and everybody inside it were locked in
and everything and everybody that is not inside it were locked out. And what
might it do to ordinary people to live in this way every day? What might it do
to them to live in such heightened, intense surroundings every day” (Kincaid)
In this passage from the final section from Small Place, Kincaid addresses
the mixed blessing of Antigua’s beauty. Once again, she does so by considering
the difference between the Antiguan point of view and that of anyone not from
the island. The landscape cannot make Antigua wealthy in a material sense—there
is no oil, timber, or great fertile prairie to be developed. Instead, the
landscape’s beauty is Antigua’s great natural resource, which means it is also
one of the great determining factors of Antiguans’ lives. Tourists are drawn to
the island because of this beauty, and, for them, the inhabitants are part of
the scenery. In this sense, outsiders are “locked out” of understanding what
the lives of the insiders are truly like. The insiders are “locked in” in a
similar way—they belong to the landscape more than it can ever belong to them.
The surroundings are so “heightened” and “intense” that they seem to negate
some of the intensity of people’s actual existences. As Kincaid says, the
beauty of the island is so perfect and unchanging that change itself seems
impossible. When everything is extraordinary, making judgments about what needs
to change is difficult, and the fate of becoming simply a passive observer of a
beautiful cage seems unavoidable.
It's kind of weird how we (when we travel) navigate through both ambiences as we are exploring new horizons while being tourists ... it's sometimes hard to choose the right side and that's the problem.
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