Tag Archives: 中国

rituals and the myth of choice

I’ve been getting fancy mail in the past couple of days. A classy wedding invitation, pictures from a wedding I couldn’t make it to, and a letter saying I’ll be getting a bunch of money in the next few months. That last one wasn’t very fancy. And it’s money that used to be mine anyway, but will still be nice to receive.

If I ever get married I hope that I’ll be able to say something like “We were married on ‘the day the drought broke.’” I like that a lot. It has a small society feel to it. That you could say that and it would provoke knowing nods among the right people. That’s the kind of thing you want your rituals to do.

I’m really looking forward to the Chicago road trip we’re doing this summer. We’re going to bring baseball gloves and hang out in a park somewhere and throw a ball around the way Sean and Reyn and I did the other day, and it will be a good time. Though I’m bringing my ball glove to Chicago, I’m sending it home with the driving folk, as that’d take up too much space in my bag to take to China and back. Holly doesn’t like baseball and it will be too hot there to do anything but possibly breathe. My passport should be returning to me tomorrow, Chinese visa in hand, making that trip possible.

I just finished Still Life with Woodpecker (review here) and one of the things I appreciate about that book is the celebration of choice. I’ll be registering for school soon and the whole doing something new feels really natural to me, like I’m not getting stuck in some life where I don’t have anything to choose between, that I’m keeping from having to make difficult choices. When I hear someone say “That was fun, now back to real life” I realize how much I don’t want to say that, at least not in the sense of real life being the boring routine you break from every once in a while. School isn’t going to be nonstop excitement. It may even be nonstart excitement, but I decided to go and try this out, and I will learn new things. That sits well with me. I’m no outlaw with a stick of dynamite, but I would prefer to be somewhere nearby curious about how it works.

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manlibcon 2010 day 1

I was volunteering at the Manitoba Libraries Conference today and I learned… not a lot about library stuff. This is because I was working the registration desk in the afternoon and almost everyone had registered in the morning. I pointed people towards the rooms for their annual general meetings and stuff, but there wasn’t a lot of complex work to do. Selah.

That actually turned out great because I was working with this nearly-90-year-old guy at the desk. He was the kind of old guy who just liked to talk. He talked about victory gardens in World War 2. He talked about Henry Morgenthaler, and about the creation of the Canadian health care system. He talked about an 1100 year old bible with marginal notes written in French from some museum in London. He talked about the Mackenzie King diary and how he found the errors in the digital copies made by the National Library. He talked about his daughter giving basic law school lessons in Laos: “You see, they used to have a Napoleonic code and then the communists got rid of it all. Now that people are allowed to own things they need lawyers to teach them how contracts and wills work.”

He told a great story about a colleague of his from Finland who went to a conference in Tokyo in the early 1970s. By train. There was problem after problem with visas and all these things to get through Russia and China. Once he was on the train and they were crossing Siberia they kept on having to stop to let trains loaded with tanks pass them “on their way to the Chinese frontier.” He told me about getting kicked out of an art exhibition in Madrid because Franco’s soldiers were setting up machine guns.

He talked about the importance of early child development and how all the fundamentals we need to be able to learn are pretty much set by the time we’re three, so when those get messed with, it’s catastrophic for a society. He talked about how in Canada, the more educated you are, the cheaper your healthcare is, which is why early childhood education, “especially in our northern communities” is so important.

He’s got some chip in his car that monitors his driving habits because he’s part of a study to try and “keep old fogeys like me off the road.” He wasn’t angry about it, just talking. He’s got a little bit of old man drift to him, but you could tell he’s a smart guy. He was a doctor, now retired so he has time to be on library advisory boards. He told me about some of the rural boards where politicians get on the board to make policies and proudly proclaim “I’ve never read a book in my life!” and he’s there to try and counter that.

So yes, I didn’t do a whole lot, but got to hang out with the guy I’d like to be in 60 years.

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bone marrow cancer serious

I do love the sound of a rainy night. Not just saying that to get myself ready for moving to Vancouver, either. I’ll take this any day instead of winter.

It’s wonderful having a bunch of stuff to look forward to this summer. Last year was so tied up in feeling bad about things, I’m happy to have cool things coming up. Talking to Sarah at the Camby the other night, I mentioned how we’re going to Chicago for Sean’s bachelor party. And she loves Chicago and has things for us to see, places to eat pizza and boats to ride for our architectural tours. Yes, we do nerdy bachelor parties. But there’ll be baseball too. I hear Jared has a feeling about the Cubs. This might be their year. They are just three games back of the wild card spot with only 140 games to play.

And I’m going to China for a month. Just to hang out with Holly, who is then going to turn around and come to Winnipeg for a week, which is pretty awesome. I’ve been saying that it’ll be a good time for her to come because I’ll be about to leave so she’ll get an experience of my hometown tinted with wistfulness and preemptive nostalgia instead of sheepish frustration.

Whenever I hear John K Sampson interviewed and they mention the I Hate Winnipeg song (actual title: One Great City), it seems strange to the interviewer that Sampson sees it as a very tender loving song. Just because the chorus says the word hate. Maybe the interviewers are being disingenuous, just trying to make their listeners feel smarter or more perceptive or something. It seems so right to talk about how you love something by saying you don’t.

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you’re pompous and ignorant and joyless and just basically suck

The other day I heard a song in the mallish type place downtown. (Cityplace, it’s called and it’s a depressing little excuse for a mall. I’m sure the homeless people who hang out in the pharmacy make it even moreso.) The song was that “You’re so vain you probably think this song’s about you” song (by Carly Simon maybe?), and hearing it, I realized I’d never heard it before.

A few years ago I believe she auctioned off the secret of who the song was actually about. I remember that happening. I remember thinking before that, “What a great first line for a song.” But I’d never heard the actual song. I’d always assumed it was something more punkish, more confrontational, more “Fuck you!” But there in cityplace, was this wafting airy AM radio kind of thing. It threw me off.

Granted this was in (a poor excuse for) a mall, so maybe it was just a Muzakked version of the real song. But still. Tone and content. Different things. I think I liked my imaginary version better. (I refuse to go check what it actually sounds like for real. Leave me in my imagination!)

Also, I apologize for that last wave of shitty book-reviews; they aren’t reviews of shitty books, I swear. I’d been putting them off and now they were just crappy. I did change my ways on the whole corporate linking thing though. From now on, my links go to LibraryThing, not Amazon.ca. I realized after I wrote about the Vancouver and Winnipeg Public Libraries and their sponsorship issues that maybe I shouldn’t link all my reviews to a place that is solely about selling books online. It is possible to buy books through LibraryThing, but you can even check the stocks of local stores and libraries (tough luck if you’re in China). It’s a little less commercial and that’s probably a better model for the kind of thing I’m doing here anyway.

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fuck you 2009, i piss on your rotting corpse

The past few months have had really long days because of my frequent talking to people in places where it’s already tomorrow. I wake up and talk to Holly where she’s already had the day I just woke up to, then if we talk when I get home she’s home for lunch the next day. Keeps me falling forward in time. It’s 2010 in China.

I fucking hated the fuck out of 2009. This was the year my condo ate my life. The decision to buy was in 2008, but the badness was all this year. All the arguments and irresponsibility and hassle. The lack of sleep because of worry. The resignation to the fact that I made a really bad decision and have basically wiped out all the money left to me by all my dead relatives. Awesome. If you want to buy it, I’ll take offers way below the current asking price. Please. Let me out of here.

The best parts of 2009 predictably happened when I was far from the condo. I visited Caroline & Co (even though it was too early for Paisley to actually remember), went to Los Angeles, and of course enjoyed the hell out of my time in China (which it seems I never did write about extensively here).

I didn’t work anywhere and nothing of any interest happened at the places I didn’t work (oh right, I work in a cheese factory – forgot there for a minute) so “work life” falls neither in the good nor heart-shittingly bad parts of the year. The cheese factory did fund my escapes from the (utterly privileged) hell of thinking about the condo though.

My plans for 2010 are to feel way less responsible for this fucking condo bullshit. Also: Write something. Go to school. Watch some baseball. See friends get married.

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book review: number9dream

I picked up David Mitchell’s number9dream from the library last week, solely because we didn’t have The Cloud Atlas in. “Japan?” I said upon picking this one up, “Sure I’ll give it a shot.”

The thing I’ve been telling everyone about it is how British it feels, despite being about a young Japanese man from the countryside going to Tokyo to find the father he never met. It’s mostly just the turns of phrase Eiji (the main character and narrator) uses to describe things. The occasional word from the English countryside is a little jarring. At first I thought this was going to annoy me to no end, but as it went on it became kind of a translation artifact. It almost made it feel more Japanese because of the obviousness of the filter. I wonder how it is when translated into Japanese?

The thing that really made the book for me was the shifting styles in each part. There’s the story of Eiji Miyake trying to find his father, but each section has different sort of dreams. Panopticon is filled with wish-fulfillment action movie daydreams (and are perfect for making the book grab you and knock you a little off-kilter). Lost Property is all flashbacks and remembering. Video Games is mediated escape from reality. Et cetera. So structurally/stylistically: great.

The story itself works, though the quest itself isn’t the main thing. At least not for me. There are unrealistic things that happen. There are Yakuza; I won’t deny that. There is a bit of a sense of the writer stringing the protagonist along in service of the structure of the book. But whatever. I was happy to take the ride. It took me through some of the same headspace that a Haruki Murakami novel does (there is a discarded Murakami novel as a tiny bit of set-dressing in one of the chapters and I am sure Mitchell was conscious of the comparison) which is a place I like to be.

I don’t know if it’s a really good book or not. Maybe it’s culturally imperialistic or ethnocentric or one of those other very bad things of me to think that some young white guy can write a good novel about Japan. Maybe I only like it because it’s the kind of Murakami pastiche my China book might turn into. I know I liked it though.

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book review: the crazed

Ha Jin writes in English, but about China. I’ve talked about a few of his books before. The Crazed is about a literature student at a shitty Chinese college in 1989. He’s studying for his PhD exams so he can go to Beijing with his fiancee when his adviser has a stroke. The student has to take care of his teacher and listening to the babyish madman in his hospital bed makes him think about things differently. It’s quite good. That same understated kind of tone I’ve felt in the rest of his books. You keep on waiting for the big melodramatic thing to happen but for the most part it doesn’t, making it all feel much more real.

That it’s 1989 is significant to the story and Chinese politics are around, though not as prominent as university politics. I kind of feel like if I didn’t know modern Chinese students and how universities out there worked I might not have liked this as much as I did, but I feel like I knew how accurate all this stuff was.

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book review: my war gone by, i miss it so

Holly was reading Anthony Loyd’s book My War Gone By, I Miss it So while we travelled through Sichuan and passed it on to me after she finished. It’s a story about journalism in the Bosnian war from the mid-90s, a war I knew practically nothing about. When I say story, I mean it is his factual, emotional account of covering the war. And about heroin.

So there’s a lot going on. A lot of characters in fragmentary glimpses. A lot of horrible things that soldiers do to people. Loyd has his point of view in the book (I don’t know what his filed stories at the time would read like), his allies and who’re good soldiers and who’re murderous bastards. I have a touch of a “Hey, what about the guys you’re villainizing here” but he would say that’s because I wasn’t there and didn’t see the HVO send Muslim prisoners back to their lines remotely wired with landmines and so I don’t get to say anything.

Loyd talks a lot about how he needed to be on the front lines, right in the action, to see things for himself, which is an instinct I recognize in me (though I’m obviously too timid a person to be able to translate that into any sort of effective journalism myself). But he talks about growing up in a military family, about having respect for soldiers, about wanting to be one himself, and that I don’t understand.

But whatever, that’s not the point of the book. The point is to talk about war and the limited point of view and limited actions a person gets to take in the face of all these events.

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book review: war trash

Before leaving for China I was reading Ha Jin’s novel, War Trash. It’s got similarities to the other Ha Jin books I’ve read, but felt a bit more serious, less fable-like.

It’s about Chinese POWs in the Korean war. I didn’t know much about that war before starting the book, and I guess I still don’t, though I feel like I know more about POW camps. The narrator isn’t a staunch Communist which gives him many problems in the Communist and Nationalist factions in these camps. It all feels very much about the difficulty of an individual to make his own way. Especially if he is talented (the narrator knows English which makes him valuable to everyone in the camp). But everything sort of works out. I mean, people die, and the narrator gets into a couple of close scrapes, but nothing important feels super-threatened.

There’s this distance to the whole thing, to all the Ha Jin books I’ve read actually, that bugs me. I don’t know if it’s because it’s Ha’s second language or intentional, but it’s noticeable.

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book review: in the pond

A novel by Ha Jin, In the Pond is about a maintenance worker who is passed over for a new apartment and the attempts he takes to redress this outrage. It’s a very simply told story and it’s funny. There’s sort of this clash between art and bureaucracy and everyone mistakes everything. The book never really piled on the whole huge amounts of misery that it could have, but you kind of see what an asshole the protagonist is too. It was a quick read and felt a bit more like a short story than a novel. Actually it felt more like a fable, especially with the kid glove treatment of the protagonist. The officials call him crazy but they’re also more scared of him than I would have expected.

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