Smithsonian: Russian hermit family

The Lykov family of Russian Old Believers survived in isolation in the Siberian taiga for over 40 years before contact with the outer world in the late 1970’s. A Smithsonian article titled “For 40 Years, This Russian Family Was Cut Off From All Human Contact, Unaware of World War II ” presents a fine summary of their life in obscurity and thereafter, with photographs and bibliographical references.

URL: http://www.smithsonianmag.com/history-archaeology/For-40-Years-This-Russian-Family-Was-Cut-Off-From-Human-Contact-Unaware-of-World-War-II-188843001.html

Personal note: The 1992 book by Vasily Peskov titled Lost in the Taiga: One Russian Family’s Fifty-Year Struggle for Survival and Religious Freedom in the Siberian Wilderness was one of the first books reviewed when Hermitary launched in 2002: http://www.hermitary.com/bookreviews/taiga.html

Homelessness as solitude

A TDN.com news item titled “Galovin finds peace in trading society for solitude” on a homeless man in Washington State is representative of the potential of homeless people to consciously craft a life of dignity in its simplicity and solitude. The examples of Tom Boyle and Daniel Suelo are pertinent, as is the history of Japanese eremitism.

URL: http://tdn.com/news/local/sunday-snapshot-galovin-finds-peace-in-trading-society-for-solitude/article_ca0bb8a6-62d4-11e2-8c81-001a4bcf887a.html

Poetry, loneliness, solitude

The Poetry Foundation website includes a page of “Poems about Loneliness and Solitude” with the subheading: “Poetry offers solace for the lonely and a positive perspective on being alone.” Among the categories of selected poems are Celebrating Solitude, Wallowing in Loneliness, and Being Alone in a Crowd. Includes podcasts of readings and reflections on the relationship of poetry, loneliness, and solitude.

URL: http://www.poetryfoundation.org/article/244786

William Pester, Hollywood “hermit”

Hollywood in the 1920s to 1940s produced several colorful hermits already mentioned among these entries and featured among the galleries. Another was William Pester, the German-born Friedrich Wilhelm Pester, who resided under one of the two letter L’s in the famous Hollywood sign. Pester dressed in a robe, at least at first, and was later not apparently entirely solitary. He was called the “Hermit of Palm Springs.”

URLs: 1. http://www.mydesert.com/article/20121128/NEWS01/311280007/Palm-Springs-hermit-made-mark-nudist-tourist-attraction-inmate, and 2. http://www.mydesert.com/interactive/article/20121129/NEWS/121129001/William-Pester-Hermit-Palm-Springs?odyssey=tab|topnews, plus a German-language article: http://www.geschichte-borna.de/joomla/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=93:friedrich-wilhelm-pester-der-eremit-von-palm-springs&catid=38:persoenlichkeiten&Itemid=72

Sara Maitland interviewed

Sara Maitland, author of A Book of Silence (2008), is interviewed by Telegraph (UK) correspondent Peter Stanford. Maitland lives in a shepherd’s cottage (shieling) in Galloway, Scotland, where she continues to write, her latest project being Gossip from the Forest, a reexamination of forests in fairy tales of Grimm and others.

Writes Stanford of Maitland’s solitude:

The things she misses in her shieling, she says, are simpler and very specific. “The first is physical contact in moments of stress, not the big ones, but when I come in from a walk and it has been raining and I am soaked and I have a deep desire for someone to be there to say, ‘God, you’re wet.’ And the second is when someone has annoyed me, usually by email, I have no one there to let off steam with, and so frequently I find myself telling the person I am angry with my reply. I need someone to puncture my rage bubble.”

The other thing she finds herself hankering after, she says, is the sort of catch-all conversation we are having. “I’m a profoundly frivolous person and I grew up with smarty-pants dinner conversations. If I am ever asked to be in Who’s Who, I will put as my hobby deipnosophy, banter-like exchanges round a dinner table.” Couldn’t she just break silence once a month and invite local friends over for a good set-to over supper? “You don’t understand,” she protests, a look of mock horror on her face, “there is hardly a soul within spitting distance of where I live.” Their loss is my gain.