When I'm Gone, Look for Me in the East

A Novel

Quan Barry

The setup to this wildly entertaining, deeply spiritual novel might not sound like your cup of (salty milk) tea, but take this as an enthusiastic invitation to give it a go.

Here’s the setup: A young monk named Chuluun is charged with a sacred mission: Find the child who’s the reincarnation of the great lama. He sets out across Mongolia — with his estranged twin brother — on this last worldly experience before taking his final vows.

Here’s the thing about that summary, it’s true, but it’s not wholly accurate.

What it doesn’t say is that this is really a road trip story. Or that the twin brothers have a magical connection to each other. Or that during their search for this vital reincarnated spiritual teacher, they will have huge adventures — while also confronting their relationship and questioning their own faith.

Chu, the young monk, narrates the story. He’s obviously devoted to Buddhist beliefs — he’s about to become a monk for good. But he’s also a young man. With curiosity. And hormones. Sitting in the truck beside a pretty young girl, he’s almost breathless when her long braid brushes his shoulder. He’s all too human, losing patience with his brother, aching for physical intimacy, and repeatedly questioning and recommitting to his spiritual path.

We’re inside Chu’s head on this quest, and his internal monologue weaves bits of Mongolian history and family lore into the narrative. We get enthralling details about Chingiss Khan, horror stories about how the monasteries were destroyed under communism, and a fascinating passage about the American paleontologist who found dinosaur bones in the Gobi in the 1920s. All of that is made relevant to the brothers’ lives now.

Big swaths of the story read like a travelogue as their search for the lama takes them on a road trip across all of Mongolia — to reindeer herders, to eagle hunters in the mountains, to the Gobi Desert, to Naadam, and to the Golden Eagle Festival. They also survive a car crash, weather a massive sandstorm, and experience an odd juxtaposition of environs during a stop at a meditation center for Western tourists seeking enlightenment.

The plot points will urge you to read faster, but the sentences are so precise, you’ll want to take your time and linger over passages like this: ‘Can you hear all the universes glimmering in your heart? Are you ready to drop the world’s bait? What would happen if we each renounce the need for a grand narrative and simply vow to be present for each moment along the path?’

Fair warning: After spending time with these extraordinary brothers, you may be ready to go on your own spiritual quest/road trip adventure in Mongolia.

Eight months in and I love everything there is about monastic life. I love the learning, the sitting for hours among my brothers and developing a strong sense of calm. I like helping out where I’m needed. I like the nights when we are allowed to watch movies on the monastery’s only TV with an attached VCR. I like thinking about my consciousness and how it is connected to the consciousness of every other sentient being on the planet. Conversely my twin is growing pale. This time of year we would normally be outside for most of the day. There would be games played on horseback, nights filled with singing. My brother is living proof man’s happiness lies out on the vacant steppe. Here, the only singing we do is chanting, though one monk likes to wander the monastery grounds in his free time with headphones on, belting out the song from Titanic. — Quan Barry

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