ARTS & RESISTANCE
No. 58 (Fall/Winter 2023)
Revisiting Lost Horizon
When I first started as an intern at the Clements Library, I was tasked with organizing the papers of Marilla Waite Freeman (1871–1961), part of the Dwight- Willard-Alden-Allen-Freeman Family Papers. The papers relating to Freeman, a public librarian, and her family extend back through multiple generations. Reading Freeman’s correspondence and documents painted a beautiful picture of the woman that she was and drew me deeper emotionally into the field of library science (I am now a graduate student at the University of Michigan School of Information). Freeman worked as a public librarian for roughly fifty years, finally retiring in 1940 from her position directing the Cleveland Public Library. While working in Cleveland she was very involved in the local Novel Club, a group of thirty-five men and women, some of them university faculty members and their wives.
Freeman obtained prominence in her field, referred to as “one of the best known and most beloved librarians in the country” by the Cleveland Plain Dealer upon her retirement in 1940. Photograph courtesy of The Miriam and Ira D. Wallach Division of Art, Prints and Photographs: Print Collection, The New York Public Library. “Marilla Waite Freeman.” The New York Public Library Digital Collections. https://digital collections.nypl.org/items/510d47df-bef2-a3d9-e040-e00a18064a99
The Novel Club met to discuss James Hilton’s Lost Horizon in December 1935, two years after its initial publication. Four years later the novel would top Simon & Schuster’s list of mass-marketed Pocket Books. Lost Horizon related the story of four people kidnapped while fleeing conflict in the fictional city of Baskul and taken to the Tibetan Kunlun mountains. They were brought to a utopian valley where the inhabitants lived to be hundreds of years old and moderation was the rule of the land. This valley was home to the mythical lamasery called “Shangri-La,” which has since become a catchphrase meant to invoke images of a paradise, typically in a location perceived as distant and exotic.
Freeman compiled a list of discussion questions for the group along with a biographical sketch of Hilton, using information received from his publishers and from Hilton himself. In his correspondence with Freeman, Hilton praised her reading of the tale: “I wish I could explain more fully in a letter the philosophy of the book, but I can see from your own suggestions that you have read it with much sympathy and understanding” (September 3, 1935). As an homage to Marilla Freeman, a few staff members here at the Clements Library chose to host our own book club to read and discuss the novel using her questions as a guide.
James Hilton’s concern about the fate of the arts during times of conflict was prescient. The onset of World War II just 6 years after his novel was published, led to the destruction of literary and artistic works across Europe and Asia. This Japanese print, showing views of Tokyo at the time of Commodore Perry’s second visit in 1854, includes a handwritten note in the margin indicating that this copy survived an air raid in a shelter on the evening of April 13, 1945.
The most striking of Freeman’s questions asked if the “world cataclysm” that Hilton warned about was already upon them. Looking back, Hilton’s words feel prophetic, coming between world wars: Hitler rose to power two years before the club met to discuss Lost Horizon; they were a few years into the Great Depression; and the first major drought contributing to the Dust Bowl had occurred the year before. Unfortunately, most of the Novel Group responses were not recorded, so we can only speculate how the group might have responded to this question. Our book club discussed our perception that a cataclysm has been ongoing for some time now, and that maybe there has never been a time when the feeling of impending doom fully disappears.
In the novel, one of Shangri-La’s central purposes was to act as a repository for a large library of books and art, reflecting Hilton’s very real worries about these treasures being lost in times of conflict. He expressed this fear in an interview, stating that, “If humanity rushes on at its present headlong speed it must inevitably crash sooner or later. When that time comes I’m afraid all the precious things in this world will be lost—books, pictures, music . . . ”. This focus on Shangri-La as an archive piqued the interest of the Novel Club here at the Clements Library, calling to mind a Japanese print in our collection marked with a stamp indicating that it was held in a bomb shelter throughout WWII for its safety.
Freeman wondered if “Eastern mysticism” was one of the main draws of Hilton’s story. The Clements group reflected that Hilton referenced “Eastern” themes and ideas in a manner that may not have been challenging to white audiences of the time. While reading this book and watching the original film adaptation, depictions of Tibetan and Chinese characters stood out as racist caricatures. Although Shangri-La is in Tibet, it’s explained that Tibetan and Chinese people don’t have the stamina to live as long as white people. The leader and founder of the lamasery, the High Lama, is himself a French Christian. On top of this, the film adaptation casts a white man in the main speaking Chinese role, for which he received an Academy Award nomination.
Freeman’s correspondence with James HIlton revealed the author’s hope that his novel would focus attention on his fear that “the world has reached a parting of the ways in which a decision must be made between the reign of violence and that of the quieter life; otherwise, civilization as we know it will perish from the earth.”
While many of these depictions were viewed as offensive by our book club today, we did wonder if the novel’s portrayals came across as progressive in its day. Conway, the main character of the story, settles into Shangri-La quite quickly. This is in part because of the decade that he spent living in China, leading him to feel “at home with Chinese ways,” hinting at the positive effects of a non-Western culture. While Hilton did seem to have a real reverence for Tibet, he never actually visited the region: “I entertain a lot of dreams and illusions about it that would probably be rudely shattered. I prefer to keep them intact,” he explained in an interview. One of my coworkers brought up the point that something similar might happen in our work, where something we write with the intention of being inclusive and respectful might be considered offensive to future readers.
The one recorded response of the original Novel Club was to the question regarding the success of the novel, which the members attributed to “Its peace, its picture of a place of refuge from the present world unrest.” Freeman’s discussion questions for the Novel Club included the prompt, “What would we do if a Novel Club picnic should meet with the experience related in this book?” Like the character Mallinson who spent the entirety of the story looking for a way to escape, perhaps some would resent being kept away from their friends, family, and the life that they had built back home. Others, myself included, viewed Shangri-La as a restful opportunity to take a break from our busy day-today lives.
In the novel, one of Shangri-La’s central purposes was to act as a repository for a large library of books and art, reflecting Hilton’s very real worries about these treasures being lost in times of conflict.
The importance of rest and relaxation is emphasized throughout Lost Horizon. Upon hearing the phrase “slacker” being used in a negative manner, a resident of Shangri-La remarks, “Is there not too much tension in the world at present, and might it not be better if more people were slackers?” The 1973 musical film adaptation of the book includes the very charming song “The Things I Will Not Miss,” which features a long-term inhabitant of Shangri-La expressing her desire to leave the lamasery and a woman who was more recently brought there wishing to stay. The one thing that both characters fully agree on is that they would not miss work, which I feel is a sentiment most of the audience past and present can relate to. The focus on (moderate) relaxation in the story feels revolutionary and freeing to imagine.
Joining the previous members of Cleveland’s Novel Club across time was a very moving and impactful experience. The opportunity to slow down and analyze a piece of literature with my colleagues helped me to better understand my fellow staff members and the novel, and to share a literary experience with like-minded book lovers of almost a century ago.