If an obituary can do this, so can writing about the living.
The Economist's obituaries are some of my favorite pieces of writing.
That sounds morbid, I'm sure. But take the recent obit for Sashimani Devi, the "last human consort of the god Jagannath."
Never heard of Sashimani Devi? What about Jagannath? That the obit editor of this major publication decided to focus on this topic for the week's one remembrance in print is a bit confusing. Yet, that's not unusual for this feature. And it's brilliant.
The prose is unpretentious and absorbing. And for a few minutes every week, the words transport you elsewhere. Here's the author describing Sashimani Devi's relationship with her husband:
"Each day she would rise early, bathe and go to the vast temple complex, where on the highest spire Lord Jagannath’s red pennants flew to show he was inside. There he was, her wooden spouse, freshly dressed and decked in flowers, on a high jewelled platform beside his sibling gods. She would arrive as his breakfast was served to him of coconut, sweets and ripe bananas, and afterwards she danced in the main hall for the visitors."
Naturally about the person who died, these obituaries give you a glimpse into one person's existence.
But they're much more than that. They're deep commentaries on living and some of life's most difficult themes, from the personal to the international.
The author adds texture and personality to these themes. She makes big, intangible issues bite-size and digestible. She leaves you with firm takeaways and roots in the present despite looking to the past.
A reflection on the life of Naty Revuelta, Fidel Castro's mistress, blossoms into a story of unflinching devotion to a man and an idea, no matter the cost. It never mentions the thaw in U.S. relations with Cuba going on at the time of writing or revolutionary upheaval around the world, but it doesn't have to flaunt its relevance.
An offering on Billie Whitelaw, Samuel Beckett's muse, is supremely personal. The story about deep insecurity and success in the face of adversity is both inspiring and sad.
And then there's Sashimani, whose story highlights the struggle between modernity and tradition along with all sorts of questions about religion, devotion, love, and more.
All that is wrapped up in just three words in the quote above: "her wooden spouse." The narrative is about Sashimani's love of her husband, a god and "a mere stump of wood with round, staring eyes," as the author puts it. She was married to him at a young age and remained devoted to serving him her entire life, mourning the loss of her beloved when the piece of wood was replaced with a new one every twelve years.
This is writing that sheds light on the some of the world's deepest divisions, questions, and problems, but it doesn't do that in 15,000 words or with bullet points or through policy recommendations. These are engrossing and unique narratives that make very real some very abstract ideas.
If an obituary can do that, so can writing about the living.