I finally finished the book: 365 photos, 366 days later.
One (long and very interesting) year after I completed this photo project, I have completed the book of the photos. It is for sale via the Blurb website for the cost of the book – a total non-profit enterprise, as I imagine all feats of the ego should be.
I hope you take a moment to look, and thank you for following the blog, the photos, the process.
xoxo
a
ps: If you don’t want the book, you can still visit the blog…
Holy Crap. This guy is my hero. (Well, one of them…)
I had heard of Romanpoet (also here) somehow, not sure how. It sounded kind of, you know… cool. But being neither Luddite nor particularly motivated to explore the tech-underworld I never really investigated.
Should have.
Here is a kid with some ingenuity <– understatement. And he has used it in a pretty effective way <– ditto. So, he is a PhD candidate at Caltech (don’t worry, not getting fished in again [at least not yet]) and he is studying computation and neural systems. He says his life goal is to make a computer that feels. While I have a few comments on emo computers, I am absolutely fascinated in contemplating (maybe someday I’ll move beyond that phase) the way in which our brains take in, understand, manipulate, infer. categorize, utilize, store and apply information. And all the attendant variables.
In the mean time, this (just) 27-year old has been referred to as The Internet Man of Mystery and gotten the attentions (lawsuits) of the powers that be. He certainly does appear to have some panache. He is young, smart, creative and well-groomed. Win. He also came up with an application, WikiScanner (now on version 2) to see who is editing Wikipedia entries, and it is not who you might think. He told the Times of London, he did it “to create minor public relations disasters for companies and organizations I dislike.” Like it Centurion. Like it.
In his spare time he hangs out in Santa Fe at the Santa Fe Institute. Now this is a place that is thinking about some very cool shit. They focus on complex systems research. That is like, the total shit of synthesis: “Complex systems research attempts to uncover and understand the deep commonalities that link artificial, human, and natural systems. By their very nature, these problems transcend any particular field, for example, if we understand the fundamental principles of organization, we will gain insight into the functioning of cells in biology, firms in economics, and magnets in physics. This research relies on theories and tools from across the sciences. Part of the rise of the complex systems research agenda can be tied to the use of theoretical computation as a new way to explore such systems.” Um. Yes, please. Would that I had a PhD that might be my dream job.
And then… he is the man behind the Musicthatmakesyoudumb and Booksthatmakeyou Dumb. Best graphics EVER (concept here.) I am frightened by the placement of the Book of Mormon and in honor of The Dude, I am going to have to question how Eagles can have less of a dumbing effect than Queen, though I suppose Bohemian Rhapsody and We Are the Champions fucked that statistic up. I think the next one should be clothes that make you dumb, there would be a complex system, and all the raw data is here.
But don’t let me be the judge and jury (or do, I am fine with that…) have look for yourself after the jump (or via the above concept link.)
He’s got mad skillz.
CAESAR:What say’st thou to me now? speak once again.
On March 15th, I had the extremely good fortune to see Pulitzer Prize winning author, Junot Diaz speak as a part of the Man Hong Kong International Literary Festival. [Documented here first.] I adore Diaz’s novel, and because my immersion into the pedagogy of literature and writing has piqued my interest in the writer’s craft – or perhaps the lack thereof on occasion (not this one) I was totally psyched to see one in the flesh: A Writer. Add to all this that Diaz is something of a cultural icon these days, basically radiating the kind of geek chic that is so cool because you have to be an insider to understand most of it… But, check this out, you don’t have to understand it all to appreciate it, or in my case love it. Plus, the novel is about Latinos and you all know how I feel about them. Oh, and it has footnotes. Win.
As usual with certain aspects of my life, attendance at this event was not seamless. But no bother. I made it work. I arrived in enough time to make a comfortable entrance and see the people I meant to see. Of course, Diaz topping the list.
Sitting and listening to him – the opportunity to take in his voice live – was in so many ways, just as I thought it would be. His humor and his intelligence lending so much to what he had to say about subjects as diverse as diaspora, family, compassion as pedagogy, Oscar and Junior, Santo Domingo, hip-hop, his craft, race, New Jersey, language, the Fantastic Four, reading, geeks, Pulitzer Prizes, friends… And how, in concert, they combine to provide a backdrop for an entire human experience. There were so many things he said, quite specifically, that I wish I would have written down. I particularly wish I would have thought to record his reading from Oscar Wao. As I did not, the afternoon is captured in my memory as a collection of images of humor and ingenuous interest not only in the effect of his work on us, as an audience, but in us as people, students, teachers, writers – thinkers.
Following the all too brief (yeah, yeah – and wondrous) talk, Diaz availed himself to book signing. For this I was also excited and well-prepared. I brought my hardcover, first-edition for him to sign, and it did not go unnoticed. As we talked about the sort of normal stuff – what I do in Hong Kong, etcetera, etcetera, I mentioned that I had been met at the event with by a friend I thought he might know. So, I did a reverse name-drop and in the act of said droppage suggested that he, Diaz, may be interested in seeing another side of Hong Kong = Lamma. He was down. In retrospect, hardly surprising based on personality, but totally surprising on logistical considerations coupled with jet-lag. After a tour of duty with the refreshments (‘Can we just take the bottle?’) Jason-of-the-name-drop and I were beginning to formulate a plan. And it was looking like a good one.
But as plans are prone to do more often than not, they changed. The details of the pre-plan and the actual-plan are hardly necessary here. Suffice it to say that I ended up as part of a very cool group that got to escort a writer with mad skillz and his lovely lady friend across Hong Kong and into the wilds of Central, a place I used to describe as “Where the White People Are” – a characteristic preemptively noted by our out-of-town companions. On the way we talked about ex-pats and travel and life in Hong Kong and Facebook (aiyah!!!) and MIT and Harvard and Coachella and the ambiguous but tragically important notion of Home. Once settled in conversation floated around books and work and wine and sports and teaching and relocating and publishing and language and universities and music and Macbeth and realism and potentialities of all sorts. Here is a person who said in no uncertain terms he knows the next chapter of my experience is going to kick ass.
How fucking cool is that?
Caesar was warned of the ides of March, and much to his ultimate chagrin, I must imagine, he was heedless. For me, the ides of March brought so much more this year, that to hear the soothsayer reply in the same manner as he does to Caesar, I would not have been disappointed. I believe that the effect of the ides shall resonate with me for quite some time.
After this post, I may need to be “Committed.”
It has happened again.
I am reading a book with so much immediate and significant relevance I am wondering how it is possible that it landed in my hands at this time. Of course I know, technically, how it happened: I went to the bookstore and saw a book written by an author I enjoy, about a subject I am perplexed by, fascinated with, horrified of, uninitiated unto, and perhaps even, somehow excluded from. And I bought the book.
The subject is MARRIAGE.
Liz Gilbert writes like a blogger. Not sure if that comes across as a compliment or an insult, but as she says in her book, people used to say she wrote like a man and she was as sure that it was meant to be a compliment as she was sure that it was meant to be condescending when people described her as a chick-lit writer. In the end it is not so important. The way she tackles this particular subject and the perspective she comes at it from are perfectly brilliant. For me. Lots of people I know here in Hong Kong don’t like her style, they seem to think she is derivative or somehow generic. One friend of mine said of Eat Pray Love (among other books) “I could write that book.” Hmmm. I am not sure about that. But if there were a book I could dedicate to all of my girlfriends on all of their respective continents, regardless of marital status or ambitions, this would be it. And I would also recommend it to a number of my gentleman friends as well. Especially those about to wed. READ IT.
The premise of Gilbert’s latest book, Committed, is simple: two people who fell in love after brutal divorces swore they would never get married and were perfectly okay with that for every conceivable reason. Then, due to circumstances largely out their hands, they were faced with an ultimatum of sorts that indicated they would have to marry. And this book is the result of Gilbert’s method of coping: investigation. She really, really, really looks into marriage – its history, effect on women (and men), purpose, and the cult-like fascination that encompasses it. She is clear about her limits as an anthropologist and scholar in general, but some of the things she uncovers are really eye-opening. Which is not to say you read them and go, “Well I never!” It is more like you read them and you go, “Holy shit! Maybe I am not crazy.”
I am not married. I have never been married (though almost one and a half times.) I have, like most girls and women I know, vacillated wildly between desperate longing to get married and a cavalier not giving a shit attitude about it. But through it all, I have always been, and imagine I will always be, interested in the ongoing fascination with marriage and from where said fascination springs eternal. To this end, Gilbert’s text is immensely satisfying for me.
The time frame of this book places Gilbert in Southeast Asia throughout the long, hot summer of 2006. Interestingly, I was likely within earshot of her on more than one occasion as we were in exactly the same places at the same times. Weird. Add to that the detail that she and both seem to have wreaked romantic havoc on a good portion of our own lives. My BFF tells me my motto could be: “Amanda – Making bad relationship choices since 1989″ – and she’d be more correct than I want to admit. And the pattern of this chaotic, period of infatuation can be summed up thusly:
“My new love interest seemed to have a giant EXIT sign hanging over his head – and I dived right through that exit, using the love affair as an excuse to escape my collapsing [whatever you need to escape from], then claiming with an almost hysterical certainty that this person was everything I truly needed in life.
“Shocking how that didn’t work out.” (Gilbert, p. 101)
Tou-freaking-ché.
Further, Gilbert points out that psychologists call infatuation, that deluded state of madness, “narcissistic love.” Along with Gilbert, I am gonna have to say: “I call it ‘my twenties’.”
Hello.
And through her examination of marriage Gilbert uncovers with some very interesting stuff, like the Marriage Benefit Imbalance. This is the suggestion (real enough for me through an analysis of my own empirical evidence) that men get more out of marriage than women. I would add to this that in spite of the conventional wisdom assumption that women are desperate to be married, I find the opposite to be true in my (admittedly limited, though extremely variegated) experience. She has caught a lot of flack for her use of the M.B.I. as a concept. But when people complain about it and then sum up their argument this way: the main point of marriage as a social institution: to protect and raise children, it becomes clear that we are going to have to agree to disagree. I am still stuck back in that illusory place where marriage is about a partnership of two adults to do whatever the hell they want. (Could be one more reason why I am not married…) Not surprisingly, my understanding also comes from the generation of divorce so do what you want, but just remember, a lot of the time what you want is not exactly what your partner wants.
Gilbert spends a lot of time talking about the “Auntie Brigade” as well and the social pressures to have children that go along with marriage. Every woman I know is familiar with this pressure to some degree, whether it comes from their own psyche or from external sources. Not having kids seems like some kind of cultural failure on the “How to be a girl” chart of life. On the other hand, in Sunday’s South China Morning Post this week there was an article about how the single most beneficial thing a person can do to help stave off the seemingly inevitable doom of planet Earth is to not have kids. Yay me. I am suddenly so inadvertently green I can take all those plane trips and not worry about my carbon foot print anymore. Which brings me to another point. While I am no longer in the habit of ruling out life possibilities or choices, on the approach to forty things do start to look different. In a discussion of the SCMP article on Sunday, a good friend of mine, (single, forties, “Auntie,”) told me she has no interest in kids because she doesn’t want to be chasing toddlers around throughout middle age, she has other things she wants to do. She admits she was inclined to have kids in her twenties, but “things didn’t work out” with the potential F.O.B., so she has moved on – mentally, physically, etcetera. Good point. (And Green!) At the same time I have another friend here whose sole (soul?) objective is to get married. When I was telling her about my trip to Bali over New Year’s she couldn’t even talk about the trip – only wanted to talk about my companion and “Don’t you want to get married?” The non-sequitur-like nature of the conversation gave me a headache, and she never got to see the photos.
What marriage is and what it was and what it may become seem to be deeply personal. I am certainly not proclaiming a permanent, or even actual, disdain for any of it. But I do advocate for it all to be taken in some sort of perspective, like really, the proverbial ‘grain of salt.’ I do not need a husband for any concrete reason. And I am no longer convinced that partnership is somehow more valid through legal documentation. It has been a very relaxing change of heart. That doesn’t mean I won’t agree to some sort of permanent partnership should the cosmos find themselves in perfect alignment or something. On that note, the idea that “all we need is love” is also examined in the book. What do you think? Yes? No? Maybe so? Seems like there may be a little more to it than that. Go figure. Had I married the boys (men in a few cases) that I was completely and desperately in love with…
sorry… not able…………..
to……… type……..
having physical reaction akin to shock……………………….
On the other hand, I am sure I let a couple of “keepers” get away. Though, that certainly does not make me unusual. One of my favorite asides in Committed is a story of a friend of the author asking a Mongolian singer who had just completed a performance in NYC what the songs were about, because in spite of not understanding a word she had found them heart wrenching. He said, “Our songs are about the same things that everyone else’s songs are about: lost love, and somebody stole your fastest horse.”
Amen. [And now I know where Tom T. Hall got his material - I guess everything does come from Asia.]
Gilbert’s book, through the best parts and my least favorite bits, is really a worthwhile read especially for looking at the personal and public histories that have contributed to our understanding, née, fetish with marriage at least in my generation and demographic. She hits on divorce, gay marriage, remarriage and non-marriage from a lot of vantage points. Let me also say that the obvious double entendre in the word choice “committed” is not lost on me. We commit to things (or in the case of some of us, we categorically rebel against it) and we get committed in other instances. Loony bin, church or Justice of the Peace. In the end it turns out the choice is up to me, and that is just a-o-k. Though, one might be wise to bear in mind the sentiments of Albert Camus:
“You have the freedom to choose your actions, you don’t have the freedom to choose the consequences of your actions.”
The brief and wondrous life of Oscar – WOW!
Sunday there was quite a lot of pre-Oscar speculation at my house as we all completed our ballots to see who could pick the most winners of the 24 major award categories for the 2010 Academy Awards. I find that just about everything is more fun when you have a wager on the line. [Sue won with a tie-breaker over Vickie, both having guessed 12 correctly...] One big disadvantage of living in Asia is that we do not get a lot of the hype associated with the movies nor do we get a chance to see a lot of them in the theaters, certainly not prior to the Academy award telecast. [Though, The Hurt Locker is coming now, and as I was walking through the Causeway Bay station on my way to work about an hour after the end of the live telecast in Los Angeles, I saw the poster for it and it says winner of 6 Academy Awards - that was fast! (On second thought the sign is in Chinese so I suppose the "6 blahblahblah 9" could mean something else...)] On the other hand one of the big advantages is that we have almost all of the movies (save for foreign films, documentaries, and shorts – far too, what? Too cultural? I don’t know…) on DVD thanks to our very industrious pirated entertainment industry. So, among us we had seen a pretty significant number of the films up for awards.
It made for a very lively discussion (along with whether or not my neighbor, now living in Saigon would vie to defend his impressive win (21 of 24) from last year, via the interwebs. (He did not…) Sue was sure Mo’Nique would win, Vickie and Andre had their money on Sandra, I knew this would be the year The Dude would Abide, Jerry was simply convinced that Avatar was not good enough for a Best Picture win, but conceded that it might… We vacillated between The Fantastic Mr. Fox and Coraline lot about the animated features, which in hindsight was kind of lame since, as Neil Gaiman pointed out, when one of the cartoons is also nominated for Best Picture, it is probably going to get the nod in the Animated Feature category. Personally, I was totally pulling for the regional flavors in the documentaries and I didn’t get either with Burma VJ or China’s Unnatural Disaster.
In general, the whole spectacle is just an excuse for a party and a chance to banter on pop culture phenoms. I have always loved the Oscars and I am not entirely sure why. The telecasts can be terribly tedious, the hosts can be painful, the politics too much or not enough, and the Red Carpet interviewers (hosts?) generally make me want to punch something. But still, I love it. The clothes, the couples and the speeches.
Oh, and the “In Memoriam” part always makes me cry. Serious. This year they did not include Farrah Fawcett and some people were pissed about that, but I am not sure she was ever in a movie, was she? I don’t know, maybe they should have put her in simply because her death got totally overshadowed by MJ. I am always amazed – and saddened in a strange way as I certainly do not know any of these people – when I watch this segment. I guess it serves to remind me of the fragility or the inevitability of death. Doesn’t matter if you are a SuperStar or drive a big fancy car…
Brief and wondrous.
And in the spirit of brevity, right after the touching images and voice overs, we’re right back to the best and worst dressed. As I mentioned, not “watching” the awards live but through various live feeds (this year substantially bolstered by live Twitter feeds from a variety of sources, most notably the aforementioned Neil Gaiman) I saw mostly still images. I thought Sandra Bullock, Rachel McAdams and Penelope Cruz looked stunning. Nicole Richie! No idea why she was there, but she looked amazing. JLo <– WTF? Demi Moore was making it work and Charlize Theron could probably not look bad if she tried… oh wait, she actually did try once, but not here, though her dress was totally boobie-centric. Not interested in the dudes, sorry – all looked the same-ish. Oh, except RDJ, he always brings it and his wife’s dress was AWESOME. Kate Winslet looked hot too… why is everyone always on her case? The Grande Dames were working it too… Helen and Meryl FTW.
Everyone was loving on Cameron Diaz and Zoe Saldana… I am not sold. And that Twilight girl – gack. Oh, and SJP? The color was ace, but, um… yeah. And could someone please tell me what Whiney Cyrus is doing at the Oscars? On that note, Kathy Ireland? I tripped right back to 1986 on that note. Mariah Carey… eeewwwww. This link pretty much indicates that I do not share my taste with the majority of people polled. Good thing I don’t care. And these links are more interesting.
After the fashion brigade, I like to contemplate the books or stories that I would like to see make it to the big screen. And there are a few. Of course the much mentioned Steig Larsson books would be a good time (the Swedes already made them for T.V. I think), The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian by Sherman Alexie would be very good, or Counting Coup: A True Story of Basketball and Honor on the Little Big Horn – I would like to see some modern Native American young-adult stories. And one that I have been contemplating as a great screen play for some time now is The Brief and Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, by Junot Diaz. On a semi-realted note, I am hoping to go to see Junot Diaz next Tuesday in Hong Kong when he delivers a talk as part of the Man Hong Kong Literary Festival.
Would that I were a screen play writer…
Brief and wondrous sounds okay, for a day: at the Academy, followed by a party at Morton’s…
It is so fun to talk with smart people…
I finished the Steig Larsson trilogy last week and was speaking with a friend of mine who I not only adore, but who is simply one of the smartest people I know. We got to talking about my recent, Lisbeth-related assertion that ‘information is power,’ (in contrast to, but not exclusive of, the notion that ‘knowledge is power.’) I was reminded about how I am always going on about the sad state of affairs in a world of education where people are only too happy to open brain (note, not mind) and insert facts, then call it a day, rather than to employ the more organic and useful function of thinking. True that. But my point, à la Lisbeth, was that knowledge is actually based on what you do with information. You must have some information to work with. Without information, but with innate intelligence, you may be smart, likely quite curious, and certainly very interesting, but you are not yet knowledgable. It is on acquisition of information that one can actually demonstrate their knowledge – or not.
Take for example the situation of someone with misinformation, who then assumes (and in doing so already admitting they are sort of without intelligence, because you all know to assume only makes an ASS out of -ume) that they now have knowledge about something, and so they act on said bad information. Wrong – so wrong in fact, it is beyond laughable, it is hilarious. Without good information, and in this particular case, without context or much intelligence and common sense, the individual simply gets themselves in such a gigantic hole of misfortune that you might feel bad for them if they were not so ridiculous. Had this person acquired the information, then perhaps they could have demonstrated the existence of their knowledge. Unfortunately, in my (sadly all too real) example, the person is absent information, context or knowledge.
In comparison, one could be like Good Will Hunting; I have spoken of Will often. Will, like Lisbeth, has a photographic memory. In both cases this presents a dilemma because in their respective situations, the garnering of information is so easy, it becomes a default position from which it would be very easy to languish into uselessness. Will collects information (initially) and that is it, at least outwardly. It is the necessity to use, contemplate, cogitate and truly understand the scope of this information that leads Will to finally “go see about a girl” signalling the change that he has made. To simply spout off facts or read (though likely not fully understand) a broad spectrum of resources will eventually make you look like a total jack ass. It comes down to understanding information. Real talk, people.
And this is Lisbeth’s gift. She is socially strained to say the very least, though certainly not without reason. But her ability to understand, fully and deeply, the power gained by the acquisition of information underscores her knowledge. She is the perfect example of how to use information knowledgeably, though it must be said she is reticent at first to demonstrate this. [Probably a good litmus test of true smarts anyhow; those people who perpetually pontificate on their (pseudo-) intellectual prowess are generally not so smart... I mean, they have yet to realize that no one is even listening to them. Seriously. In effect, their conversations in the real world, on the internet and in professional circles are carried on with themselves. No one is interested. I wonder if it is some evolutionary coping/survival skill that they are unable to realize this fact.]
So, knowledge? Key. Information? Necessary. As another one of my oh-so-smart friends said, “It wasn’t the invention of the printing press per se that caused a revolution; it was when people learned to read.” To that I have to add… and then they learned to question what they read, you know, to actually see what it is they think they are seeing.
Yup.
So, if you are unable to see the value and power that is requisite in good information, you likely have bad information or lack knowledge. I am glad that the folks I hang around do not fall into either category.
Lessons from Lisbeth.
Occasionally I read books that have a deep impact on me and the way I see or interact in the world. This can be the result of myriad influences: good writing, interesting characters, fantastic plots, scandalous behavior… the list goes on. I love reading and have a very broad range of books that I enjoy. Like wine and music, what I like often fluctuates depending on various circumstances in my own life, and I am repeatedly impressed with how often I end up reading books that have significant resonance at exactly the right time.
Oddly, that has turned out to be the case quite recently as I have been tearing through Steig Larsson’s nearly posthumous trilogy centered around Lisbeth Salander (a great blog on the first book The Girl Who Played With Fire and excellent links here.) these books are a totally indulgent guilty pleasure. But they are far more relevant than typical crime fiction or pulp fiction… certainly for me: a capable, single woman, with a strong personality, who has often dealt with men who are not big fans. In fact, the attributes I see in my female friends (and Lisbeth) are usually the root cause of the animosity… Perplexing.
As I have been taking in the saga of Lisbeth’s life, I have begun to see how much she has to teach me right at this very minute. These are the lessons I have been taking from Wasp.
1) Silence can, in fact, be golden.
I often want to tell/share/broadcast information that I find exciting or interesting or offensive, and of course, I mean information pertaining to me. But Lisbeth has demonstrated time and again how savvy it is to keep it to yourself, as frequently people are trying to use it against you, even in cases where you least expect it, or said people don’t actually realize they are doing this. Plus, as Mark Rothko astutely pointed out: “Silence is so accurate.”
2) Resist the urge to prove your worth/talents/knowledge to those who challenge you to do so.
Consequently, as an extension of #1, it is best to let people just carry on with their assumptions and predilections rather than trying to demonstrate they have misjudged you. A very smart man I know said, “They already know everything they want to know.” For sure.
3) Information is POWER.
In summing up #1 and #2, we arrive at #3. Yeah, I know everyone says ‘knowledge is power’ and whatnot, but what they really mean is information. Real information is the key to everything. And if you have it, you are secure and can distinguish (or allow) misinformation and it all becomes moot… until you need to use it. Then you have it.
4) Document EVERYTHING.
You can bet your ass I am doing this. This has become incredibly important in my life lately, and I am redoubling my efforts at being a meticulous record taker and keeper. It is kind of amazing the things people do that leave such a visible trace. I think in the world of investigation they call it “evidence.” I am holding on to all of it.
5) Allow people to make foolish assumptions.
This is similar to #3, but worth extra consideration. There is that old cliché that it is “better to remain silent and thought a fool, than to speak and remove all doubt.” I can honestly say that the only reason I have ever tried to combat the assumptions has to do with my own ego. But it dawned on me recently that people who make assumptions about me do not know me and so why should I care about said assumptions?
6) Maintain your integrity, particularly when it is so easy or tempting not to.
This basically has to do with taking the high road and is pretty much an extension of #2 and #5, and a warning about misusing information or documentation. If you find yourself surrounded by people who seek to bring you down by false accusations or name calling or whatever pettiness they resort to, ignore them. Acknowledge your moral parameters and stick to them.
7) Do not react.
See above. “Ignore them.” It neutralizes all their artillery
8 ) Understand that you cannot possibly illuminate dark corners for those who live under rocks.
My BFF and I had a conversation about this last summer and my aunt and I over Chinese New Year. No matter how hard you try to explain yourself or your position, if someone disagrees with you or thinks you are fundamentally flawed, it is a completely wasted effort. Remember what my wise friend said in #2… those people’s brains are full.
9) Do your research.
Know what the hell you are talking about. Just good advice and will likely prevent much embarrassment if you fly off the handle about something, and also will allow you to better recognize bullshit misinformation. Relative to #4 above, document it all, and then you substantially improve your holdings wrt #3. Win.
10) Be clear in your objectives.
Understand what you want and why you are doing anything. If you are unclear in either of these areas, stop what you are doing and reexamine the situation. It will save you a lot of time and also lead to much more satisfying results.
Reading Machine + Addendum
I am back to the books in a big way. I seem to have drifted from reading for a while as I was pursuing other endeavors, or being lazy, or being annoyed by reading certain things, or just being tired. But lately the literary mojo has returned. One reason my reading goes in fits and spurts here is that Hong Kong has totally shitty bookstores. I guess people all must order on line or they just don’t read (I will hold my tongue for which I think is the more likely answer.) So, of course, I too turned to the internet to solve my problem (or actually to increase my problem if you consider that at some point I am going to be moving all these books back home with me across the Pacific, pound for pound.) And while all is readily available on the interwebs, getting it here seems to be a bit of a costly conundrum. I default to Amazon because, well, they are so bloody easy. [Though they have been a little sucky lately.] But international shipping is a biyatch. So, I tried a site my friend Josh recommended, bookdepository.com. I liked it one for the name alone, felt a little Lee Harvey Oswald-ish and thought it might work out as they suggested free international shipping. But, they are clearly making up shipping costs with the price of their books. Fair enough, we all need to make a living, but it was back to Amazon I went.
And the generosity of Mom’s postal service to cover the shipping.
The playlist:
- 2666 by Roberto Bolaño (finished. Epic.)
- The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde (re-reading. Always worth it.)
- Ficciónes, Jorge Luis Borges (eventually.)
- The Corrections, Franzen (I don’t know why though.)
- Steig Larsson’s Trilogy (nearly finished. Total guilty love/obsession/pleasure.)
- Memory of Fire Trilogy (next.)
- Running in the Family, M. Ondaatje (for work. Love him.)
- An Imaginary Life by David Malouf (Ovid revisited… coolio.)
- Infinite Jest (the next tome to take on. I read This is Water all the time. It is amazing. Read it.)
- How We Are Hungry, Eggers (Need I say more? It is Eggers.)
- Standing Up to the Madness (autographed copy from Amy Goodman via mom. Bitchin’.)
- Bryson’s Shakespeare (good fun.)
- Reading Like A Writer from Francine Prose (totally kicking it in to gear for work)
- J.M.G Le Clézio: the interrogation (no explanation needed… but it was due to revisiting Camus and Beckett for work. Why do they call L’Étranger “The Oustider” here? I don’t know, but I guess it works….)
- A Bend in the River by V.S. Naipaul (a birthday gift from a long time friend, and I am now very interested in the Theroux/Naipaul fracas.)
Addendum: I rarely modify a published blog here (save for catching those elusive typos) but I had a funny conversation with one of my students yesterday that made me reconsider this blog with a chuckle. We were discussing how to answer a question for a university application supplement that asked for a favorite movie and a favorite book. The student said that this question was really initially, but then realized that actually saying, or rather admitting, his favorite book might not “Say the right thing” about him. I said, “Come on, authenticity rules.”
But does it?
We got to talking again about the rationale for a university asking such a question; they must be looking for something, he insisted, this was not just small talk – they don’t really have time for chit chat. Or do they? I certainly do not purport to have much to do with university admissions, but could they really just be trying to flesh out some sort of feeling as to the students personality – or is it really a chance for the student to ‘prove’ they have some sort of edgy, intellectual, sophisticated understanding of the world and consequently what matters…? Inevitably the conversation turned to [bloody] Facebook, as it always seems to lately, and we reconsidered all of those memes, the quizzes, the iPod shuffle games, the “turn to page X, paragraph X, line X of the nearest book” posts. Were people being authentic or were they carefully constructing an image of themselves… or are the two more similar than we give them credit for? Looking at my book list I have to say, those honestly are the books sitting on my shelf, relatively in the order they will be or are being consumed. But, he said, why did I want those books in the first place?
Good question.
Image crafting? Brain-bragging? Tyring to appear a certain way in the eyes of a certain person? I definitely had to admit that the collecting of at least 75% of the list had not been coincidental. There were reasons for all of them.
Hmmmm… I guess that line that I used to win free tickets to San Diego Street Scene last year might be more true than I thought:
“She’s crafty… “
I am seriously reading the Worst. Book. Ever.
I must preface this by saying I love books. I mean, really, I love them. I love to look at them, smell them, buy them, organize them, touch them, possess them, and of course, read them. I love the entire experience of “A Book.”
Enter Never Enough. I am reading this book for my book group. And it is so bad I am almost wishing for Dan Brown. It even has cover art that includes blood spatters. I have taken to covering it with a coat or pashmina when I am reading it to keep it out of sight. And the writing is so distractingly bad, I have to take a break about every two pages, which makes for incredibly tedious reading especially because it is on about a two-page-redundancy cycle. Joe McGinniss may be a really nice man, I have no idea, but skilled auteur he is not. [I get it that you think Nancy is hot, Joe.] So, a little back story. This is a “true crime” book. I was really into true crime at one time. I read everything I could get my hands on about the mafia, Charlie Manson, JFK, Marilyn, Gia Carangi… And I remember being really disappointed when I realized that Rosemary Clooney survived her difficult life (Apologies George, I know that sounds awful but, I only meant it in terms of making a good story.)
Then I started 11th grade.
This particular book is about the Kissel murder. So, in theory it had some potential. It is about an American ex-pat couple in Hong Kong, and I do enjoy reading books that take place in familiar locales for the comparative perception value. Also, when I came to Hong Kong in August of 2005, the trial and all the attendant drama were the only things in the news. I arrived on August 26 and Kissel was sentenced to life in prison for premeditated murder on September 1. [Of course, Kissel appealed and fairly recently (2008) was in the news again, but she lost. As this book was published in 2007 I think it probably does not cover that.] The book details quite a bit about the Asian financial crisis and the ex-pat i-banker life, if you can wade through the prolixity redundantly peppered with comments about Ms. Kissel’s appearance. It is certainly making me very glad not to be involved in the world of investment banking in any way (as if the current financial climate was not enough.) There are all sorts of mentions of places that I have been and seen, Cheung Kong Center, the China Club, HKIS, Parkview, Tai Tam, etcetera, etcetera. It talks about the SARS outbreak (albeit very briefly), which is also interesting as I know so many people who were directly effected by that event. But apart from that? It reads like bad television drama and there is not a single redeeming character in the book. None of the family members or friends of these people are individuals I would want within a fifty foot radius. They are portrayed as vitriolic, entitled, acrimonious, sanctimonious, greedy, obtuse, self-centered, wasteful, spoiled, shitty people. Even the Kissel kids seem to suck. That takes effort.
Bear in mind I am not even finished reading the book yet. However, like Titanic, you sort of go into it knowing what happens. And since I know what happens in the end anyhow, the story needs to be really well-told to keep me interested. Need I say this is not the case?
And so, with regard to my recent rant on book burning? Yeah, I think this is one I might through in the pyre. I am pissed off that I even spent money on the book somehow contributing to the perpetuation of such schlock and I feel like I need to take a shower every time I pick it up – seriously, it makes me feel dirty. But, I will finish the book, because that is what I do. And I know my whole book group will love it because it is totally plot-driven and so if you are into the plot, I guess it would be great. It is described as “riveting” and “compulsively readable” [compulsively? No , I did not make that up, that is courtesy of Entertainment Weekly...] And the paragon of news that is the USA Today said of the ‘book’: “Front-row seats to someone else’s family horror fest.” What a god-freaking awful thing to even want to participate in.
Oh well, they suffered through my book selections [The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao and Me Talk Pretty One Day], so I guess it is quid pro quo.
*sigh*
You wanna ban a book?
Ban books? What is this, the Dark Ages? Well, I guess if you want to determine what I should be allowed to read I won’t call you an idiot. At least, not quite yet… though you may infer my true sentiments before I do resort to name-calling. Actually, you probably can’t infer much if you are a book banning type, so at the risk of killing my punchline: You are an idiot.
We discuss censorship a lot in this part of the world. Primarily for how and why China applies censorship logic. And then of course there is that SAT essay prompt that asks if the government should restrict certain kinds of information from the public. [Most of my students here say yes. They view it as some sort of necessary protection without considering the issue of surrounding who we give the authority to determine what is okay for our innocent eyes and ears.] China has a strange censorship policy – like, it gives new meaning to the concept of arbitrary, but it does keep us guessing. I think they are aware they are fighting a losing battle especially concerning the internet and so they do that thing where they continue acting like they are in control of everything and then just sort of ignore the obvious evidence that they are not.
Recently a teacher was suspended for assigning a Chuck Palahniuk story called “Guts” in his class. This caught my eye for a few reasons (ok, yeah, it was brought to my attention by a Twitter tweet…) but more to the point, last year I had a student bring me the story and wanted to use it for a class assignment of his own. I read it and thought, “Wow. Okay, it is definitely an interesting piece of literature,” and frankly it was perfect for the project the kid had in mind, but was I comfortable telling him to go forward with in in light of the fact that he attends a “certain” school with “certain” religious overtones and a particular belief that they have some sort of high-end image to uphold? And what of his parents; would I be willing to defend the story if his fairly conservative Korean family came down on me about it? I paused. What were the issues here? This was a 15-year-old who was reading. Of his own volition. And, though clearly intrigued by the shock value of Palahniuk’s short story, he was interested and willing to talk about it. Isn’t that the point of having kids read? And, further, doesn’t that diffuse the potential for problems that generally lie in the misunderstanding in the first place?
I said go for it.
SMS Fail. Or not.
All sorts of communication issues are bound to crop up when you live in a place where interacting with people from all over the world is part of the daily grind. Honestly, it is linguistically fascinating, but not always efficient. Mis-communication, non-communication, dis-information, mis-understanding… sometimes straight dissing. It often reminds me a one of my very favorite childhood books, Bendemolena, by Jan Slepian and Ann Seidler.
Bendemolena is a kitten who lives in a very loud house and so she puts a pot on her head to make things quiet. This is a great strategy (akin to me and my ubiquitous earphones in Hong Kong…) But the problem arises when her mom starts to give her instructions about things she needs to do… and she hears: “Buffalo bink? Put the horse in the sink?” You see where this might lead.
So, what to do about this? Well, Bendemolena could just remove the pot. For me, I can take out the earphones, but I then I have to say, I [sort of] hear [some of] the words that are coming out of your mouth… but…
So, there are lots of acceptable, and not-so acceptable strategies for dealing. I have on one occasion or another tried all of the following:
- Nodding and hoping for a repeat
- Polite chuckle
- Making an educated guess for a response
- Saying, “Excuse me?”
- Saying, “Huh?”
- Saying, “WTF?”
- Giving up and walking away
- Smiling
- Handing the person whatever it is that I am holding in my hand (seriously)
- Replying in Spanish (works only if your interlocutor is most definitely NOT Spanish speaking)
- Saying, “I can’t hear you, text me….”
And there the trouble began.
Me via text: Hiya… Sorry have been a stranger, keeping very odd hours these days. Anyhow, thinking of you and thought I’d say hi!
Friend via text: Merci for the thoughts… also full on week for me: should be better next week. planning to be nakked but relieve on sat afternoon… let’s catch up!
Me out loud: W.T.F.
Me via text: Why are you planning on being naked? Why are you telling me?
Friend via text: I have three ways of interpretation to your reply which I will not clarify via sms… see you soon!
Me out loud: SERIOUSLY. W.T.F.
Me via text: No clue what you are talking about being naked – as usual we misunderstand each other!
Friend via text: Naked = more than tired! (too cold for the other one)
Me out loud: In what language??
**Epiphany**
Me via text: Oh my god. You mean “knackered”!
Friend via text: definitely a weird way of spelling and it doesn’t match the way I am pronouncing! it is a revelation!
Me out loud: So, I wonder how many people she’s been telling she would be naked on Saturday afternoon…
So there goes the whole, it will be a lot more clear in a text. Tho y i thot tht i duno cos mst msgs i get look lik dis, n usu hv no vwls.
Edumacation: not a simple liberal ideal
“If a nation expects to be ignorant and free in a state of civilization, it expects what never was and will never be.”
~ Thomas Jefferson
There is much debate about the state of education these days, ironically more and more as the funds seem to dwindle, it would appear. I think my educational philosophy has been pretty consistent over the years, and while I am not advocating for stasis, I do think it is good to have a foundation from which you pontificate. I believe some people refer to this foundation as a “soapbox.” Allow me to climb on mine for a moment.
Education is important. [And, for the record, one does not become a qualified educator through the process of giving birth - though many people who have given birth seem to believe that they are at that point educators.] Education is not only attained or gleaned in a classroom setting, but if you are in a classroom you should be getting something. Education is not about opening up a cranial cavity and inserting facts. Learning one thing does not make a person educated. Learning one thing makes a person trained in a single skill. Education and training are fundamentally different. I am not suggesting that one is actually better than the other (even though I obviously feel that one is better) but to call training education is an arrant misnomer.
So, I am in a book group.
Why, you ask? Well, because I like to read and I like to talk and I thought a book group would be a great way to do both those things with other people so I didn’t always have to do them on my own and appear to be totally nuts.
Of course there are sometimes when I am convinced that I actually am in a book group because deep down I am a total masochist.
The book for our last meeting was The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao. It was my selection, and I really liked the book. And there was the added bonus that the cutest guy in my village (did I just say cutest guy in my village?) had just taught the book in one of his Lit classes at a university in Hong Kong so I had a nearly 100% legitimate reason for asking him to join us. Which he did and we got to talk about the book like… well, literati snobs, I guess. I thought it was great. Not everyone was as thrilled, however.
A little background on out group:
We started the book group in July of 2007. I basically extended an open invitation to whoever and decided to see what would happen. An interesting strategy to say the least.
The initial response was very positive… very female… and seemed workable. In hindsight, I think that “very positive,” “very female” and “very workable” may have been overstating it a bit, if not mutually exclusive. I invited people I knew and they invited some they knew and so on. We ended up with about 15 people. Then one person said: “Men should not come, women won’t feel free to express themselves if men come.” Hmm. Then one person said: “I hope we are going to read real books.” Huh? Then there was much discussion about logistics. How to read books, how to choose books, where to meet, how to discuss books. I was ready to start drinking before we had even made a selection about anything.
We ended up meeting at my place to discuss a book that met most people’s criteria as it was well known, easy to find in paperback (crucial for the member of our group who will never buy books on the premise of their expense… but I believe if she spent less money on plastic surgery she could probably afford first run books.) We read 1000 Splendid Suns and had a fairly interesting conversation followed by a good amount of eating and drinking. We did allow two men to join, and the anti-man person didn’t even show up. (Of course she rarely does show up and she has never read a book, so why she bothers is a mystery… ) We are a multi-cultural group, Frenchie, English, Aussie, ‘Merican, Chinese… and everyone brings their own idea of what is good about a book. This is a good thing. Mostly.
Since that first meeting we have read:
- 1000 Splendid Suns
- The Time Traveler’s Wife
- 19 Minutes
- The Perfect Hostage
- Animals in Translation
- Enduring Love
- Eat Pray Love
- Never Let Me Go
- The Reader
- Into the Wild
- Three Cups of Tea
- The Seville Communion
- Infidel
- The Brief and Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao
And now we are reading Q & A (the book on which the film Slumdog Millionaire is based…) So, some stellar choices and some absolute rubbish. Through it all there have been many episodes I thought of documenting. Some because they were awesome and memorable. Others for the sheer pain that could only be assuaged through therapeutic rambling.
Because four of my closest women friends in Hong Kong are in this group all the ridiculousness is generally tolerable and it is a fun reason to get together and share food drink and conversation. At our last meeting all the love couldn’t temper the absolutely insane behavior of some of the members. Perhaps the insanity was due to the impending holiday season, or perhaps because there were to other guys there (cute villager and my cousin) throwing things into disarray. All I know is that I was left without words save for “WTF?!?!”
All manner of commentary ensued surrounding the situation, emails were sent and apologies rendered. And it got me really thinking about why I am in a book group in the first place.
Here are some choice samplings from a year in the life of our book group:
- I am not reading this book. No way. [Riiiigghhht.... why are you here again?]
- If you don’t have the spoon you can’t talk. [Yes, we are adults. Spoon throwing followed and I left]
- Someone needs to help me get into my flat right this second because I have locked my keys in. [Already been blogged]
- Hm. Well, I guess there is nothing for me to eat here since I don’t eat gluten. [Hm. Well, that is your problem.]
- I am not reading that book. No way. [Because, why stretch yourself?]
- Oh my god, do you not read the New York Times? [In other words, "I am so much better than you."]
- Well, I didn’t read it, but… [But I am going to take a lot of time to give my opinion anyhow.]
- No thanks, I have good wine at home. [I waited to hear her say, "Kidding!" after this. She did not.]
- I knew you guys woldn’t like it, but I loved this book. [Three cheers for this one, because integrity is where it is at.]
- Does it make you want to be a vegetarian? [Hmmm....]
- There was just too much information in that book. [Oh no! Information.]
- I’m not going to read that book. [Errmm...?]
- I couldn’t keep the names straight. [Fair enough.]
- Did you know they were clones? [I didn't.]
- Can I get another drink? [Pass the bottle, please.]
So, why am I in a book group? My best guess is that in spite of the oddities and affronts that exist and occur, I like it. I still like to read and I still like to talk. And in the final analysis, there will always be someone who wants to talk book somewhere…so it is good to be prepared.
…and it might just be the best way to get to know that really cute guy in my village…
Ex-Pats Read A Lot.
Ex-pat life is very strange to me in most of the ways that I view it. Ex-pats, on first glance, seem to be escapists for the most part. There is a more glamorous view, which paints them as romantic, adventurous, erudite… But most of the ex-pats I see are in the former category: escaping. It is part of my (hypo)thesis about ex-pats and books.
Ex-pats read a lot.
I thought I had died and gone to snobby, educated heaven when I first took notice of how much reading ex-pats do. Books, newspapers, (high-brow) magazines. They have it all. They can talk about all the latest things… and it has so much more flair or panache than I found in similar conversations at home. But like most things my opinion is constantly shifting and for those of you happening across this page that is what you get….
Now I see the reading as something different.
Mail (as in, you’ve really got mail, like real mail you can touch)
The advent and maturity of email, texting, on-line photosharing (is that even a real word? Can you have compound verbs?), even blogging, has permanently altered the way we communicate. I don’t condemn these changes by and large, and in fact rely on the modern convenience of them daily to maintain my ties to people near and far. Still there is something really great about receiving real mail.
As part of the Thirty Voices cadre for the past year I was personally introduced to blogging, as well as a really interesting group of women from a lot of interesting places doing a lot of interesting things. I had never really considered having my own blog before, and now… well, now we all know what has happened (a home for my garrulous verbosity!)
As the T.V. project came to an end, one of the originators of the idea had another idea… would it be fun to do a gift swap with the other writers… send something(s), not too extravagant, but somehow meaningful and representative of the friendships forged and the places physically occupied by our on-line community. I thought it was a great idea… and while I have yet to send my package off (I will meet the deadline – that is a promise…) I received mine a week ago, and what a joy to behold!
Amanda
