Paulo Coelho - The Alchemist - Fiction
The Alchemist – Paulo Coelho (12 mins total)
The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho:
The Alchemist – Spoken Script for Delivery (~500 words)
The Alchemist – Spoken Script for Delivery (~500 words)
Have you ever wondered what it means to truly follow your dreams? // To search for something in life that feels deeply meaningful, even if you don’t know exactly what it is? // That’s what literature, what fiction, is really about—it speaks to the heart, to our emotions, our hopes, and the courage it takes to pursue what truly matters.
The Alchemist tells the story of Santiago, a young shepherd from Andalusia, Spain, who sets out to discover his purpose. // Motivated by a recurring vision, he leaves behind his home, his family, his friends, and everything familiar, and embarks on a journey across deserts and foreign lands. // Along the way, he meets mentors and guides—like Melchizedek, the king of Salem, and a wise alchemist—who teach him to read the signs of the world, trust his intuition, and follow the path of his heart.
But the story is much more than a literal journey. // Santiago’s adventure is an allegory for the pursuit of one’s Personal Legend—the true calling that gives life purpose and meaning. // The novel explores themes of courage, persistence, faith, and self-discovery, showing that obstacles and challenges are not roadblocks—they are essential steps along the path. // The lessons learned, the people met, and the experiences gained often turn out to be more valuable than the destination itself.
At its core, The Alchemist is about listening to your heart, recognizing the interconnectedness of all things, and having the courage to pursue your dreams—even when the path is uncertain. // Paulo Coelho reminds us that fulfillment comes from aligning with our deepest desires and trusting that the universe supports those who take steps toward their true purpose. // Life’s challenges are not meant to stop us—they are meant to guide us, teach us, and prepare us for growth.
And the story behind the book mirrors Santiago’s journey. // When The Alchemist was first published in Brazil in 1988, it went largely unnoticed. // Only one copy sold the first week, and the original publisher abandoned the project. // Coelho, forty-one and desperate, refused to give up. // He believed in his story and in his own Personal Legend. // Eventually, another publisher gave the book a chance, and slowly, through word of mouth, it began to reach readers. // Today, it has sold over 65 million copies worldwide, been translated into more than 80 languages, and inspired generations to reflect on their own paths in life.
So—why should you read The Alchemist? // Because it’s more than a story about a shepherd’s journey. // It’s a poetic meditation on courage, hope, faith, and the transformative power of following your heart. // It reminds us that literature and fiction are about the heart, and that pursuing dreams often means leaving comfort and familiarity behind. // It encourages us to trust our intuition, remain patient and resilient, and recognize that the journey itself often holds more meaning than the destination.
In the end, The Alchemist leaves us with a question we can all ask ourselves: What is your Personal Legend? What is the dream or purpose that gives your life meaning? // And are you willing to take the journey to discover it, trusting that the universe will conspire in your favor?
Excerpt THE BOY’S NAME WAS SANTIAGO. DUSK was falling as the boy arrived with
his herd at an abandoned church. The roof had fallen in long ago, and an
enormous sycamore had grown on the spot where the sacristy had once
stood.
He decided to spend the night there. He saw to it that all the sheep
entered through the ruined gate, and then laid some planks across it to
prevent the flock from wandering away during the night. There were no
wolves in the region, but once an animal had strayed during the night, and
the boy had had to spend the entire next day searching for it.
He swept the floor with his jacket and lay down, using the book he had
just finished reading as a pillow. He told himself that he would have to start
reading thicker books: they lasted longer, and made more comfortable
pillows.
It was still dark when he awoke, and, looking up, he could see the stars
through the half-destroyed roof.
I wanted to sleep a little longer, he thought. He had had the same dream
that night as a week ago, and once again he had awakened before it ended.
He arose and, taking up his crook, began to awaken the sheep that still
slept. He had noticed that, as soon as he awoke, most of his animals also
began to stir. It was as if some mysterious energy bound his life to that of
the sheep, with whom he had spent the past two years, leading them through
the countryside in search of food and water. “They are so used to me that
they know my schedule,” he muttered. Thinking about that for a moment,
he realized that it could be the other way around: that it was he who had
become accustomed to their schedule.
But there were certain of them who took a bit longer to awaken. The boy
prodded them, one by one, with his crook, calling each by name. He had
always believed that the sheep were able to understand what he said. So
there were times when he read them parts of his books that had made an
impression on him, or when he would tell them of the loneliness or the
happiness of a shepherd in the fields. Sometimes he would comment to
them on the things he had seen in the villages they passed.
But for the past few days he had spoken to them about only one thing:
the girl, the daughter of a merchant who lived in the village they would
reach in about four days. He had been to the village only once, the year
before. The merchant was the proprietor of a dry goods shop, and he always
demanded that the sheep be sheared in his presence, so that he would not be
cheated. A friend had told the boy about the shop, and he had taken his
sheep there.
“I need to sell some wool,” the boy told the merchant.
The shop was busy, and the man asked the shepherd to wait until the
afternoon. So the boy sat on the steps of the shop and took a book from his
bag.
“I didn’t know shepherds knew how to read,” said a girl’s voice behind
him.
The girl was typical of the region of Andalusia, with flowing black hair,
and eyes that vaguely recalled the Moorish conquerors.
Part 3: Reading Segment 2 (3 mins)
Excerpt The wind began to pick up. He knew that wind: people called it the
levanter, because on it the Moors had come from the Levant at the eastern
end of the Mediterranean.
The levanter increased in intensity. Here I am, between my flock and my
treasure, the boy thought. He had to choose between something he had
become accustomed to and something he wanted to have. There was also
the merchant’s daughter, but she wasn’t as important as his flock, because
she didn’t depend on him. Maybe she didn’t even remember him. He was
sure that it made no difference to her on which day he appeared: for her,
every day was the same, and when each day is the same as the next, it’s
because people fail to recognize the good things that happen in their lives
every day that the sun rises.
I left my father, my mother, and the town castle behind. They have
gotten used to my being away, and so have I. The sheep will get used to my
not being there, too, the boy thought.
From where he sat, he could observe the plaza. People continued to
come and go from the baker’s shop. A young couple sat on the bench where
he had talked with the old man, and they kissed.
“That baker . . .” he said to himself, without completing the thought. The
levanter was still getting stronger, and he felt its force on his face. That
wind had brought the Moors, yes, but it had also brought the smell of the
desert and of veiled women. It had brought with it the sweat and the dreams
of men who had once left to search for the unknown, and for gold and
adventure—and for the Pyramids. The boy felt jealous of the freedom of the
wind, and saw that he could have the same freedom. There was nothing to
hold him back except himself. The sheep, the merchant’s daughter, and the
fields of Andalusia were only steps along the way to his Personal Legend.
The next day, the boy met the old man at noon. He brought six sheep
with him.
“I’m surprised,” the boy said. “My friend bought all the other sheep
immediately. He said that he had always dreamed of being a shepherd, and
that it was a good omen.”
“That’s the way it always is,” said the old man. “It’s called the principle
of favorability. When you play cards the first time, you are almost sure to
win. Beginner’s luck.”
“Why is that?”
“Because there is a force that wants you to realize your Personal Legend;
it whets your appetite with a taste of success.”
Then the old man began to inspect the sheep, and he saw that one was
lame. The boy explained that it wasn’t important, since that sheep was the
most intelligent of the flock, and produced the most wool.
“Where is the treasure?” he asked.
“It’s in Egypt, near the Pyramids.”
The boy was startled. The old woman had said the same thing. But she
hadn’t charged him anything.
“In order to find the treasure, you will have to follow the omens. God
has prepared a path for everyone to follow. You just have to read the omens
that he left for you.”
Before the boy could reply, a butterfly appeared and fluttered between
him and the old man. He remembered something his grandfather had once
told him: that butterflies were a good omen. Like crickets, and like
grasshoppers; like lizards and four-leaf clovers.
“That’s right,” said the old man, able to read the boy’s thoughts. “Just as
your grandfather taught you. These are good omens.”
The old man opened his cape, and the boy was struck by what he saw.
The old man wore a breastplate of heavy gold, covered with precious
stones. The boy recalled the brilliance he had noticed on the previous day.
He really was a king! He must be disguised to avoid encounters with
thieves.
“Take these,” said the old man, holding out a white stone and a black
stone that had been embedded at the center of the breastplate. “They are
called Urim and Thummim. The black signifies ‘yes,’ and the white ‘no.’
When you are unable to read the omens, they will help you to do so. Always
ask an objective question.
Part 4: Reading Segment 3 (3 mins)
Excerpt He spent the entire morning observing the infrequent comings and
goings in the street. He had done this for years, and knew the schedule of
everyone who passed. But, just before lunchtime, a boy stopped in front of
the shop. He was dressed normally, but the practiced eyes of the crystal
merchant could see that the boy had no money to spend. Nevertheless, the
merchant decided to delay his lunch for a few minutes until the boy moved
on.
A card hanging in the doorway announced that several languages were
spoken in the shop. The boy saw a man appear behind the counter.
“I can clean up those glasses in the window, if you want,” said the boy.
“The way they look now, nobody is going to want to buy them.”
The man looked at him without responding.
“In exchange, you could give me something to eat.”
The man still said nothing, and the boy sensed that he was going to have
to make a decision. In his pouch, he had his jacket—he certainly wasn’t
going to need it in the desert. Taking the jacket out, he began to clean the
glasses. In half an hour, he had cleaned all the glasses in the window, and,
as he was doing so, two customers had entered the shop and bought some
crystal.
When he had completed the cleaning, he asked the man for something to
eat. “Let’s go and have some lunch,” said the crystal merchant.
He put a sign on the door, and they went to a small cafรฉ nearby. As they
sat down at the only table in the place, the crystal merchant laughed.
“You didn’t have to do any cleaning,” he said. “The Koran requires me
to feed a hungry person.”
“Well then, why did you let me do it?” the boy asked.
“Because the crystal was dirty. And both you and I needed to cleanse our
minds of negative thoughts.”
When they had eaten, the merchant turned to the boy and said, “I’d like
you to work in my shop. Two customers came in today while you were
working, and that’s a good omen.”
People talk a lot about omens, thought the shepherd. But they really
don’t know what they’re saying. Just as I hadn’t realized that for so many
years I had been speaking a language without words to my sheep.
“Do you want to go to work for me?” the merchant asked.
“I can work for the rest of today,” the boy answered. “I’ll work all night,
until dawn, and I’ll clean every piece of crystal in your shop. In return, I
need money to get to Egypt tomorrow.”
The merchant laughed. “Even if you cleaned my crystal for an entire
year . . . even if you earned a good commission selling every piece, you
would still have to borrow money to get to Egypt. There are thousands of
kilometers of desert between here and there.”
There was a moment of silence so profound that it seemed the city was
asleep. No sound from the bazaars, no arguments among the merchants, no
men climbing to the towers to chant. No hope, no adventure, no old kings or
Personal Legends, no treasure, and no Pyramids. It was as if the world had
fallen silent because the boy’s soul had. He sat there, staring blankly
through the door of the cafรฉ, wishing that he had died, and that everything
would end forever at that moment.
The merchant looked anxiously at the boy. All the joy he had seen that
morning had suddenly disappeared.
“I can give you the money you need to get back to your country, my
son,” said the crystal merchant.
The boy said nothing. He got up, adjusted his clothing, and picked up his
pouch.
“I’ll work for you,” he said.
And after another long silence, he added, “I need money to buy some
sheep.”
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