Shibumi by Trevanian

Young Nicholai asks his mentor, whom he later kills, what he means by the word shibumi.  She, as well, has been patiently waiting for the author to explain this concept, the Japanese word he titled his book with.

Oh, vaguely.  And incorrectly, I suspect.  A blundering attempt to describe an ineffable quality.  As you know, shibumi has to do with great refinement underlying commonplace appearances.  It is a statement so correct it does not have to be bold, so poignant it does not have to be pretty, so true it does not have to be real.  Shibumi is understanding, rather than knowledge.  Eloquent silence.  In demeanor, it is modesty without pudency.  In art, [...] it is elegant simplicity, articulate brevity.  In philosophy, [...] it is spiritual tranquility that is not passive; it is being without the angst of becoming.  And in the personality of a man, it is... how does one say it? Authority without domination?  Something like that.

She finally exhales the breath she has been holding while reading the paragraph, and bites into the sour patch kid that has been hovering mid air by her lips.   Her mind is granted her permission to wander off.

Very few things are subtle these days.  Loud, bright, enticing, and catchy things hog the center of attention.  Perhaps being understated no longer gets noticed, let alone appreciated.

Instead of clean and simple lines with careful details, modern architecture is more of curves and large reflective window panes.  Take the Dancing House in Prague for example.  The lopsided structure cannot be conducive to maximizing the space available.  On the other hand, the Guggenheim, though unique in shape, still maintains poise.  The shape is actually thoughtfully calculated to guide the spiral movement of museum visitors.

This thought reminds her to read The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand.  He said that it would answer some of her questions about modern architecture.