Lost In Translation

The Cockfighter

Last year I read my first Charles Willeford novel, Miami Blues, and really enjoyed it. I asked a friend who was a fan if I should continue on with he Hoke Mosley series or another novel-one of his recommendations was The Cockfighter (1972). As fate would have it I came across The Charles Willeford Omnibus (which included The Pickup, The Burnt Orange Heresy, and The Cockfighter) for a mere ¥500 last Monday while out and about-so I bought it. The Cockfighter, obviously, is about a man who trains chickens for fights that often end in death of one or both animals, thus, it is not for everyone. It is a subculture I knew very little about, but thanks to this novel, I now know a lot about  after following the exploits of the protagonist Frank Mansfield. In fact, it could be said to be the "Moby Dick" of cockfighting novels in that there are several sections that discuss the intricacies of the cockfighting trade as well as the conditioning of the birds. It was one of the elements that I found engaging in Miami Blues as well-I was able to immerse myself in the southern culture of Miami and Miami Beach-places that I had never set foot in myself. The same can be said of this novel. I was able to inhabit the southern cockfighting tour and share the triumphs and setbacks of the eccentric protagonist Frank Mansfield whose one and only goal in life is to be the cockfighter of the year. This is a similarity between Hoke Mosely (from Miami Blues) and Frank Mansfield they are driven to succeed and be the best they can in their respective professions almost to the exclusion of other aspects of their lives. Willeford is a master of creating believable and unusual characters in his novels and I look forward to inhabiting his world of fiction in future novels as well.

Food For Thought

In Kate Elwood's last column of 2011 for The Daily Yomiuri she looks at the cultural associations with western and eastern staples, bread and rice:

Both bread and rice symbolize livelihood, as can be seen in a variety of phrases such as "earn one's bread," "know which side your bread is buttered on" and "take bread from someone's mouth," as well as meshi no tane ("rice seed": a means of living), meshi ga kuenai ("cannot eat rice": cannot make a living), and fude ippon de meshi o kuu ("eat rice by one ink brush": make a living as a writer). "Eating the bread of idleness" also corresponds nicely to muda meshi o kuu, to eat useless rice, which means to be unproductive. Bread and rice also both signify a communal experience. The idiom "break bread together" signifies sharing a meal, similar to onaji kama no meshi o kuu, to eat from the same rice-cooking pot.

But cultural associations of rice perhaps go one step further. Linguists Dmitrij Dobrovol'skij and Elisabeth Piiraninen have made a study of cross-cultural and cross-linguistic figurative language. They note that rice is further associated with the whole living situation, as exhibited in the phrase hiyameshi o kuwasareru, being made to eat cold rice, a way of expressing being treated coldly. Tanin no meshi o kuu, eating the rice of other people, means to gain experience and become mature by leaving one's family.

Unlike these rice expressions, a focus on undesirable or external sources of sustenance is not seen in common bread idioms. "Bread and water" may be understood to be the most minimal provisions, traditionally associated with provisions for prisoners, but the expression does not figuratively describe a chilly reception. There is no idiom related to eating bread somewhere else and to say it would simply suggest a sandwich obtained elsewhere, not a vital representation of becoming independent from Mom and Dad.

A traditional name for Japan is Toyoashihara no Mizuho no Kuni--the land where abundant rice shoots ripen beautifully. Emiko Onuki-Tierney is an anthropologist who has done extensive research on the Japanese attitude toward rice, including writing a book titled Rice as Self: Japanese Identities through Time. According to Onuki-Tierney, in one story in the Kojiki collection of myths about the origin of Japan, the goddess Amaterasu is the mother of a "grain soul" and Jimmu, the first emperor of Japan, is the son of one. Amaterasu gives Jimmu rice grains and tells him to transform the wilderness into a land of rice. Onuki-Tierney points out that unlike other creation myths in the world, Japan's mythology is not about the creation of the universe but about changing wilderness through rice cultivation. While other Asian countries obviously also have rice, Japan's own rice has been viewed as distinct. Westerners were not traditionally thought of as bread-eaters but rather meat-eaters, as opposed to rice-eating Japanese people, due to Buddhist prohibitions in Japan on the consumption of meat.

The shamoji rice spatula is a symbol of the Japanese housewife. While less prevalent than it used to be, it can still be seen in various depictions of smiling women wearing kappogi long-sleeved aprons and holding the shamoji aloft, at the ready to serve up some warm nourishment. This contrasts vividly with the traditional Western images of angry housewives brandishing rolling pins, not equipped to joyfully roll out some pastry to supply their family members with a delicious savory or sweet pie, but rather to whack a wayward husband over the head. Occasionally Japanese women are portrayed using a menbo rolling pin in a similar way, but such representations are far less frequent than those of cheerful shamoji holders.

In this way, perhaps warm rice eaten at home has a cultural resonance not easily supplanted. Yet, as always, the picture is not completely black and white. When I spent a year in Europe for research a little while ago I made rice every day, thanks to a rice cooker a colleague returning to Japan after her own sabbatical had kindly passed on to me. On the other hand, many Japanese women I met in Europe had by and large happily abandoned rice for bread in their daily lives, and they expressed surprise and amusement that my daughter and I persisted in eating rice at least once a day. If rice is a symbol of physical and spiritual sustenance perhaps it can be said that variety is the rice of life.

Buried

This little thriller, Buried (2010), directed by Rodrigo Cortes flew under my radar. I saw that it was a film Steven Soderbergh saw last year, so I decided to track it down. It was a very cheap film to produce I imagine since all of the action takes place in a coffin, where Ryan Reynolds is placed by Iraqi insurgents. One of the main plot pieces involves a cell phone that was placed in the coffin with the truck driver. It was an entertaining and clever little film.

The Unnamed

I really enjoyed Joshua Ferris's first novel, Then We Came To An End, but was reluctant to read The Unnamed (2010) because the plot didn't sound that compelling to me. A successful lawyer with a family develops a condition where he goes through periods where he starts walking until his body gives out to sleep and rest. But after seeing several good reviews I decided to give it a chance and I am glad I did. It is a strangely compelling story, which almost comes across as a fable. However, I don't think its lessons are easily found. It is a fable that treats this imaginary disorder as if it were a real event-not necessarily matter-of-factly, but certainly realistically. I find his descriptions of the one child family of a successful upper class lawyer's family utterly realistic and true to life especially when held up to other contemporary books that I feel were much, much more contrived and artificial (Jonathon Franzen's Freedom and Jennifer Egan's The Goon Squad). In fact, the story almost seems biblical in the fact that at the onset of his walking jags are accompanied by biblical acts of nature: unprecedented cold, unseasonable swarms of bees, torrential rain. Perhaps, it suggests that we often take for granted the simple aspects of life that make seem incredibly bare when taken away. I found Ferris's depictions of the lives of his characters, their problems, their reactions to certain events and their inner lives full of verisimilitude. This is a strange, compelling and moving novel on several levels.

Taiga Dramas

Here's an interesting column on Japanese period TV dramas from Sawa Kurotani for the Daily Yomiuri:

A glance at the list of Taiga dramas quickly reveals that the series keeps revisiting the same historical moments. The three most frequently depicted time periods are: the Sengoku (warring) to Azuchi-Momoyama period, which extended from the late 15th to late 16th century; the transition from the Tokugawa shogunate to the Meiji era (1868-1912); and the middle of the Edo period (1603-1867).

However, what makes a jidaigeki (period drama) series popular for nearly five decades has little to do with history itself. Instead, it has everything to do with how we interpret particular historical figures and project our own social reality onto that of other eras. The middle of the Edo period was a time of peace and affluence arriving after a century of continuous warfare that resonated with Japanese viewers during the economic growth of the 1960s and '70s.

The Ako incident in 1703, in which the former retainers of the Ako clan avenged their lord's unjust death, marked an important moment in which the roles of samurai shifted from professional warriors to bureaucrats and administrators. The former Ako retainers' adherence to the outdated code of conduct and obsolete wartime ethos has solicited popular sympathy ever since its first theatrical adaptation in the late Edo period, but gained new significance in the 1960s and '70s when the old was rapidly replaced by the new.

The Sengoku period, with its chaotic social environment of gekokujo--the "bottom" overthrowing the "top" in bloody battles, turning social hierarchy upside down overnight--seems far removed from a postwar Japan ruled by social order and peacefulness. Yet, the "battle and conquer" ideology of Sengoku warlords appealed to postwar generations of sarariiman who saw themselves as warriors fighting and winning in a fierce economic battle to catapult Japan to a position of great power and global influence. The three most famous warlords of the period--Oda Nobunaga, Toyotomi Hideyoshi and Tokugawa Ieyasu--are also known for their distinct leadership styles, which resonated with corporate managers who identified with one of the three leaders.

The turbulent period toward the end of the 19th century, when the long rule of the Tokugawa shogunate collapsed and political control of Japan was "returned" to the emperor, represents another moment of upheaval when established social order broke down and competing world views clashed against one another. Key actors of this era, such as Tokugawa Yoshinobu, Sakamoto Ryoma and Saigo Takamori, had to set aside ingrained prejudices, shake hands with age-old enemies and embrace foreign ideas and new technologies to strengthen a newly emerging nation. They had also forsaken their personal well-being and ignored individual gain for the sake of a larger cause.

In his recent book, economist Taichi Sakaiya identifies the three most significant moments of "defeat" in Japan's modern history: the end of the Tokugawa shogunate, World War II and the two decades following the collapse of "bubble" economy. After the first two defeats, Japan came up with new paradigms to reinvent itself and move forward. Now that Japan is facing its third defeat, he implores its political and economic leaders to devise a new way of thinking and show a clear course of action so Japan can once again rise from the ashes.

Incidentally, next year's Taiga drama, Taira no Kiyomori, will purportedly follow the life of an energetic warrior from the late Heian period (794-1192) who broke away from a stifling social order to look outward at the rest of the world--much like Sakamoto Ryoma from 2010's Ryoma-den and Oda Nobunaga, the uncle of 2011's heroine Princess Go from Go-Himetachi no Sengoku. Until we find our own Ryomas, Nobunagas and Kiyomoris, we can at least continue watching Taiga Dorama to fulfill our yearning for a true leader, if only for 45 minutes a week.

2011 Year In Films

This has been one of those years where I didn't get a chance to see a lot of the celebrated movies of the year. However, I was able to see several while at home on vacation at the year end and these are my choices for the top films:

1. The Descendants

2. Drive

3. Shame

4. The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo

5. Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy

6. 13 Assassins

7. Uncle Bonmbee Who Can Recall His Past Lives

8. Of Gods And Men

9. Rise Of The Planet Of The Apes

10. Tree Of Life

I guess I'd recommend anyone to see these on the big screen. And here's two solid renters as a bonus and heads up on one that I wasn't so impressed with.

Sleepers: Win Win, The Debt     Most Overrated: Midnight In Paris

The Postman Always Rings Twice

I've always liked the film adaptations of books by James M. Cain, so after seeing the HBO adaptation of Mildred Pierce, I decided to read one of his novels and started with The Postman Always Rings Twice (1934). It was a short book just 128 pages, but it was a compelling story told in the noir vernacular. Perhaps, Cain is not as adept with dialogue, but there is some skill in that regard as well. There was also something primal and lurid about the tragedy of Frank and Cora as well. It was an extremely entertaining version of LA noir and I expect to read his other classics, Double Indemnity and Mildred Pierce, in the future.

The Debt

The Debt (2011) directed by John Madden (mostly known for Shakespeare In Love) was the only film worthy of mentioning that I saw on the flight back to Japan. It was a well made thriller that was essentially two stories in one. The first story was the botched attempt to bring a Nazi war crimes criminal back to Israel to answer for his crimes. The second story is how the members of the Mossad team try ot deal with the repercussions of their failure. There are different actors cast for the younger versions and the older versions-all well acted with appropriate period details. The actors include perennial favorites such as Helen Mirren, Tom Wilkinson, Sam and Worthington. All the younger versions of the actors were unknown to me, but quite capable in their roles. It was a well made thriller and somewhat of a sleeper, since I had never heard of it before the flight.

Anglomania

Ian Buruma has been one of my favorite contemporary public intellectuals with the likes of Christopher Hitchens, and Milan Kundera. He has a vast array of knowledge from Asia (he has lived in Japan and China and speaks both languages fluently), he is of Dutch and English ancestry (essentially he has two native tongues), and has an interest in contemporary politics and religion. He has written books on Japan, China, other Asian countries, Germany and Japan’s post war guilt, Muslims in Holland, and the rift between eastern religions and the west. So it should come as know surprise that he has written a book about Europe’s fascination with English culture, Anglomania: A European Love Affair (1998), which is a combination memoir/history book.

The first chapter, “Churchill’s Cigar” is about Buruma’s personal history as an Anglomane due to his lineage as the son of an English mother of German heritage and a Dutch father. He also goes onto explain his Dutch associations with Anglomania. The next section is “Voltaire’s Coconuts” which is a discussion of England’s image to Voltaire as a land of freedom and tolerance. For many in Europe it was a model of liberal and religious tolerance, which Voltaire likens to coconuts that will thrive if planted anywhere after a period. “Goethe’s Shakespeare” in Chapter three looks at the great German writer’s appreciation and influence from Shakespeare. Chapter five, “Fingal’s Cave,” Buruma explores the intellectual differences between Great Britain (Scotland in particular-David Hume, Adam Smith, James Boswell, and James Macpherson). The Scottophila tradition is that of romance of pre-civilization of an apolitical community of natural men or noble savages. This is in contrast to the Anglo tradition of idealization of political institutions, social arrangements of a civilized society. Then there’s the whole romantic tradition of Sir Walter Scott to consider as well. Buruma then looks at German Prince Hermann von Pucker in chapter five, “The Parkomane,” which was one of his monikers along with Musakau, Prince Pickle (in England), and Lord Smorttork (in Dickens’ The Pickwick Papers).  This name is related to his reputation as “the Goethe of landscape gardening”-which corresponds to gardening as a symbol of England and a metaphor for their culture. It seems that this figure and several other throughout the book have mixed feelings about England and prefer their idealized versions of the country to the true state. This is a motif that is discussed throughout the book. Chapter six, “The Graveyard of Revolution,” discusses all the dissents like Marx and the all the others from the failed revolutions of 1848 who found freedom to voice their opinions and plot their next step in England. This includes dissidents form Hungary, France, Russia, and Italy. In “School Days,” chapter seven, Buruma and many Anglophile’s fascination with English public schools are discussed. In particular a series of books called Tom Brown’s School Days. “A Sporting Man” (Chapter eight) deals in particular the idea put forth by Wellington that Napoleon was defeatd on Eaton’s playing fields is discussed. British games have always been an important aspect of the culture. In chapter eight, the importing of British games (cricket, rugby, and the establishment of the modern Olympics) to Europe is discussed. Buruma’s mixed German/English background is the focus of chapter nine, “Wagnerians.”  This chapter also begins a discussion about Jews in England since it seems most Germans who emigrated there were of Jewish ancestry. Thus, Chapter 10 follows with “Jewish Cricket” and the influence of English Jews like Theodor Herzl and Benjamin Disraeli. The concept of Zionism in particular came from these quarters and is one of the major the subjects of this section. “The Anglomane Who Hated England” (Chapter 11) continues to discuss Germanic concepts of Englishness via the impressions of Kaiser Wilhelm II, who obviously had mixed feelings about the English.  The actor Leslie Howard is the subject of Chapter 12, who is known to embody the idea of a true Englishman in spite of the fact that he was a Hungarian. Architecture is the subject of Chapter 13, “Dr. Pevsner.” He was another European obsessed with English architecture and the study and recording of the many examples. Buruma follows this chapter with a discussion of his time as a writer for The Spectator in Chapter 14, “ The Man In The Tweed Coat.”  It shows his ambivalence about being an Anglomane. The last chapter, Chapter 15, “The Las Englishman” is a sort of postscript or coda about the separation of England from mainland Europe and what the future might hold.

As usual Burma has written a book that is well researched and a compelling read for anyone interested in England and its relationship with Europe. I like how Bururma drew on his own experiences growing up in Holland with an English mother as well as making observations from his life living in places like Japan, Hong Kong, and England. It is probably only of interest to those who have an interest in British culture and the history of ideas.

 

Schultzy's

Schultzy's is a U-District institution and was one of my favorite places to eat on the Ave. (which is a commercial street near the University of Washington). It's been gentrified and has become an upscale eatery, but they still have a selection of sausages, which was their forte along with some spicy chili with sausage. Now they have beer and cocktails and decent happy hour as you can see I got a German Pilsner-Veltins and a Ragin Cagin (the spicier cousin of Andouille. Smoky garlic flavor, but a little more heat-served w/ grilled onions & peppers).