Thorkild Hansen (1927–1989)

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> La Mort en Arabie, de Thorkild Hansen (éd. Actes Sud). Le récit d’une expédition de prestige organisée en 1761 par le Danemark pour aller en terre d’Arabie. Sept savants composent l’équipe dont un seul survivra ; résistant à l’adversité, et aux tensions du groupe qui ne sont pas un mince obstacle.
—Nouvelles Clés, (6), Juin/Juillet/Août 1989, (p. 75)… (mais)

“This circle, which formed the basis for almost all Niebuhr’s measurements, also enclosed all the basic concepts of his universe: light and matter, the stars and the earth, his firm belief in reality. It is called ‘the circle of vision,’ and further than that he had no wish to see. When he had overstepped it, things had gone badly for him; but within its confines the dome of heaven lay about him as though he stood enclosed in a drop of eternity. This circle was like a magic ring drawn round him for his protection. Within it he was invulnerable and in his native land. It encircled him when he tended the cows in the fields near Altenbruch. In the desert he found it again, every bit as large and clear. In his old age it lay about him once more. And when at last he lay lame and blind in his bed, it was not so dark that he could no longer see the stars rise one by one above the same great circle. In this land Carsten Niebuhr took his departure. Perhaps here at last was Arabia Felix.”

The best of Thor Heyerdahl’s work is imbued with optimism and ends the high adventure with triumphant results—all without sacrificing the empirical research needed to lend such great work gravitas. Thorkild Hansen’s 𝘈𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘪𝘢 𝘍𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘹 has barely any of this optimism, but it is just as methodical in its recreation of a doomed expedition, pulling together diaries and letters and drawings into a compelling story that had been largely forgotten until its publication in 1962. The bold endeavor may have been a failure in its time, and cost the lives of nearly every poor soul in the party, but I found it inspiring nonetheless; especially in its lone survivor’s long trek back to Copenhagen. This is what I read nonfiction for—illumination, history, science, a deeper understanding of the journey that led to what we take for granted today as common knowledge. When those facts and graphs and data are rolled up in a narrative that is impossible to break away from, it’s a reward that I hope in some small way justifies the sacrifices made by tougher men in tougher times who were also just trying to understand the world around them. This would make a great movie. It would be depressing as shit. And, yet, maybe fire another group of adventurers to make their own danger-fraught journey into discovery and dare to record what mysteries those open eyes happened upon in the desert—whether on this planet or another.… (mais)