Published by: World Tibet Network News, Saturday, June 29 1996

By TED ANTHONY

AP National Writer

NEW YORK (AP) -- James Hilton dreamed of a paradise tucked in Earth's most inhospitable terrain, a lush valley where reality meets faith, where the soul and mind are cultivated and the body enjoys youth that seems everlasting.

In his novel ``Lost Horizon,'' the British author gave this Tibetan promised land a name and face: Shangri-La, the Valley of the Blue Moon, where Briton Hugh Conway is brought and forever captivated.

Now, 64 years later, two Tibet independence advocates have produced a worthy sequel with a political twist. Set mostly in 1966, ``Shangri-La'' revisits the mysterious lamasery to document its struggle to survive the purges and destructiveness of China's Cultural Revolution.

``Something used to be right in Tibet. People were happy. And I don't think it's right anymore,'' says Eleanor Cooney, who collaborated on the novel with Daniel Altieri, a student of the Chinese classics.

In aficionados' eyes, Tibet itself was once paradise -- a haven for spiritual pursuits, contemplation, study. But China's military entered Tibet in 1950, saying the land was historically Chinese, and the new tale is spun against that backdrop.

``It's a useful fable,'' Cooney says. ``It says that any paradise can be threatened, any paradise can be destroyed.''

In the original, Conway, a British diplomat and World War I veteran, is one of four people on a plane diverted to a desolate pocket of Tibet in 1930. Porters lead them on a precarious journey to Shangri-La, where they encounter a series of inexplicable events that culminates in a revelation: They are in the planet's closest approximation of Eden.

The high lama, Father Perrault, a European cleric more than 200 years old, dies and passes the valley's destiny to Conway, who ultimately leaves Shangri-La against his better judgment. The book ends with his whereabouts unknown, though the implication is that he has tried to return.

``Shangri-La'' picks up in 1966 assuming that he did. Conway, barely aged, has been high lama for more than 30 years when he must risk health and life by leaving the valley.

A modern-world intrusion forces his hand: He must divert Gen. Zhang of the Chinese People's Liberation Army, which is poised to plunder Tibet's treasures and crush its way of life in the name of the forces of conformity and ``progress'' unleashed by Mao Tse-tung.

The battle is the classic struggle between individualism and conformity. Shangri-La represents excellence and personal cultivation, while the Cultural Revolution is dehumanization incarnate.

No one knows where Hilton came up with the name ``Shangri-La.'' Cooney and Altieri like to believe he based it on Shambala, the Tibetan legend of a paradise that may be earthly, may be spiritual or both.

``There was this perfect foil -- this new wave of destruction that was coming to this ancient land,'' Altieri says. ``And within that was this real myth of Shambala -- the nexus between the physical and the ideal.''

The wily Zhang, searching for Shambala, has many trump cards. The most formidable is his utter lack of Maoist brainwashing. He's his own man, holding his own in a tide of groupthinkers, and he proves a worthy adversary. But Conway, too, has an ace: Zhang's daughter, a dreamer and a romantic.

For Altieri, China's 1966-76 Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution -- Mao's purge of intellectuals and the effort to leave ``old thought'' behind that spiraled out of control -- is far too obscure in the West.

``The Cultural Revolution is one of the most bizarre events of our time,'' Altieri says. ``In a way, politics became a religion -- a repressive religion. The evil that was visited on Tibet was always bad, but it suddenly had a new driving force behind it. So we put Shangri-La in its path.''

Today, hotels across Asia bear the name Shangri-La, and Tibet is under tight Chinese control. Beijing calls it rule of law; the Tibetans -- and their exiled Dalai Lama, who oversees a government-in-exile in Dharmasala, India -- consider it occupation.

Outside Tibet, activists work to aid it. Last month, a rock festival in California on behalf of Tibetan independence drew some of popular music's top acts.

``A lot of people think the Shangri-La myth is detrimental to the Tibetan cause,'' says Erin Potts, co-founder of the Milarepa Fund, a Tibet activist organization that sponsored the concert.

``But not everybody is going to want to go to a lecture about Tibet and hear about it,'' she says. ``That's why books like this can work. You get the word out by hitting people on all sorts of different levels.''

Cooney and Altieri have collaborated before, most notably on a Buddhist murder mystery set in Tang dynasty China. They had devised a Tibet tale laced with reincarnation and magic. When they submitted it to their editors, word came back: This could be developed into a ``Lost Horizon'' sequel.

They read old travel books, watched Tibetan movies and immersed themselves in the culture that Hilton alluded to but never really depicted in detail.

Cooney, 47, an atheist, and Altieri, 49, ``basically one too,'' nonetheless adore the idea of a haven, if not a heaven, where the world's wisdom and knowledge are stored. They're hoping their tale will captivate Americans.

``Updating all those myths will definitely play nicely into the American psyche. The ground is very fertile for that right now,'' says William Ward, a professor at Susquehanna University in Selinsgrove, Pa., who studies how Americans perceive Asia.

Altieri, who like Cooney and Hilton has never visited Tibet, especially loves speculating on the chance a place like Shangri-La might give the world.

``To write this, I had to believe it was possible, even in this late time, to have a land still hidden in this trodden Earth of ours,'' Altieri says. ``You want to believe. You want to believe that such an experiment would be possible on this planet -- a place where you can reseed humanity. You want to believe something like that could really last. I don't believe it. But it doesn't mean I don't wish it could happen.''

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``Shangri-La: The Return to the World of Lost Horizon.'' Morrow. $25.