Stone Mattress

Hello Gentle Reader

The short story is a genre which is plagued with an inferiority complex. It is often passed over and looked down upon when compared to its literary relation the novel. It wasn’t (it appears) until recently that the short story begin to gather overdue attention. The most spectacular recognition came for the short story in two-thousand and thirteen, when Alice Munro, would be crowned the Nobel Laureate in Literature. Munro in her usual modesty, sloughed off any personal pride of the award and shifted the attention to the short story, by stating the award was a wonderful thing, but certainly a wonderful thing for the Short Story. As Alice Munro often voiced, the short story, was often seen as something a writer did as practice—in order to prepare themselves—for the great novel they were about to publish. Munro herself admitted and lamented her own dissatisfaction with the short story genre at first, she continuously told herself after this she would get ready to write ‘that novel,’ in which she was meaning to write. Yet every time she would set around to write it, the work in which she produced, would lose its steam and become, yet another short story. Eventually, Alice Munro would stop thinking about the great novel she dreamed of writing, and resigned herself to the short story. In what many writers would see as failure or a shortcoming, Munro had appeared to take this ‘set back,’ in stride. Rather than giving up Alice Munro pushed forwarded with the short story genre, and began to make it her own. As her career began to mature, and each new short story collection was refined and produced, one after another, critics began to see and claim that in a span of thirty pages, Munro had depicted a life; better than most novelists could in three hundred plus pages. A hallmark of Alice Munro’s fiction is the ordinary lives of the characters in which she depicts. She once claimed that every life she can muster is extraordinary—never ordinary.  In an interview in nineteen-eighty six, Munro is quoted to have stated:

“I don’t know who the ordinary people are. Because everyone is extraordinary to themselves. In fact, I read one review that said: ‘These people don’t have any extraordinary experiences. They’re civil servants, farmers, accountants, nurses.’ Well, nurses have about the most dramatic life I can think of. I don’t know about, it’s probably that I don’t write about—what secret agents? Or people who have psychic experiences or something like this? But I never consider these people ordinary. But then I never meet anybody I do consider ordinary.”

Such is the truth with Alice Munro’s work. There are the quiet dramatic moments of a life which gradually unfold in her clear prose. Despite the ordinary and mundane being present and her characters varying from nurses, to accountants, to farmers and civil servants—tragedy can still strike. Much like Doree from the short story ‘Dimension,’ from the collection “Too Much Happiness,” who at the age of twenty three, finds herself emotionally and socially isolated—and be aware this is the clincher; her husband Lloyd was abusive, and in a fit of righteous delusions, asphyxiates their children to death. Beneath the quiet surface of household chores, motherhood, careers, and small town values and the quiet and nameless luxuries of the ordinary, Alice Munro, shows just how unordinary, gothic, and tragic the lives of her characters are; and just how little we anyone may know about the person sitting next to them on the bus, or their neighbour. The short stories of Alice Munro, are gentle stones tossed into a pond, and the ripples orbit out, caress only briefly—they never crash. Yet, just as soon as they were there, the surface of the pond falls back into its stable self once again; and life goes on.

Alice Munro’s short stories are written with grace and ease. The language is plain, ordinary, and rooted in an almost colloquial manner. They are written as if someone is relaying neighborhood gossip to another over a cup of coffee; or a chance encounter confession from someone, whose is casually feeding the ducks at a pond. There is never a hint if literary pretentions to one of her short stories. Alice Munro never eviscerates, dissects, vivisects; pokes or probes her characters, nor does she display their internal workings, or seek to understand the reasoning by their actions. Rather, Alice Munro depicts their lives as they are—no frills—and observes them as they putts about or go about their daily lives; it just so happens, a moment happens in their life, be an abnormal event or one of those everyday tragedies, their lives change course, and as the story begins to wrap up; the tomorrows; their futures are endlessly set forth before them, while their pasts whisper and haunt from in the background.

Writers like Alice Munro and Anton Chekhov may have brought the short story out of the literary shadow of the novel; but their own success with the genre comes at a price as well. Success for the short story is now marked by the success of Alice Munro and Anton Chekhov. Munro wrote short stories, which could rival and battle novels. Her work moved forward through time, and often depicted not a slice of life; but a life which had been lived; recounting all events that lead to that particular moment, or characters reviewing and reflecting on a particular moment, which lead to their current circumstances, and it is there at the end, Alice Munro leaves her characters to the uncertainties of life, of a future which goes on, with the usual routine. Life in these instances just goes on.

It should seem unfair that any writer writing in the short story format would require themselves to attempt to replicate or duplicate the success of either Alice Munro or Anton Chekhov. Though the two writers—among many others—have found great success in the format, they’re way of kneading it into their own functioning literary form of expression, should be left to themselves; while aspiring and veteran writers should swath their own literary achievements and successes in the genre, by their own merit. This is not to state that there is nothing to learn from reading Alice Munro or Anton Chekhov; but what they have accomplished, is their own success; in moving forward the genre should find greater success by writers who practice the form, and take in to new adventures, such as Alex Epstein and  Gyrðir Elíasson, have done.

Contrary to what I have just stated: Alice Munro and her short stories are now considered the reluctant measuring stick of short stories. Her work has found international success and appeal, as it has always reshaped how serious the short story is taken on the literary stage. In order to become a great master of the form, one must first be measured to a standing grand master of it. Aspiring writers, who now are being pushed through the marketing molding machine of Master of Fine Art degrees with an emphasis on Creative Writing. It is here (or so I am told) these writers are taught to formulate their short stories on the similar vein of Amy Hempel, Raymond Carver and Ernest Hemmingway. What an unfortunate thought. Those who have written great short stories (and yes Hempel, Hemmingway and Carver are talented and worthy writers), often have done so without the requirement to lean on these writers. Antonio Tabucchi is one great short story writer. “Little Misunderstanding of No Importance,” hints at often great and grand narratives, of unique lives lived of adventure, and now reflect and tell their tales, of incidental moments of their lives, as they attempt to recapture that youth, but beyond that asks questions of: is it a touch of chance or simply magic which makes life worth living and pushes each of us forward. Ersi Sotiropoulos’s stories are short, bare bones, but not minimalist; rather they are frank and cautious of a precision of words and poetic detail, which often litters her works which orbit in relationships, miscommunications, and general mundane absurdities. The hallmark of great short story writers such as Alice Munro, Antonio Tabucchi, Anton Chekhov, and Ersi Sotiropoulos, is they are not a slice of an individual’s life presented in its entirety; they hint beyond what is left on the page to an uncertain future, a knowable past, and a grander life which the reader is not privy too, but can dream about.

In the acknowledgements of “Stone Mattress,” Margaret Atwood, makes clear the works collected in this volume of work are best defined as ‘Tales,’ (as is the subtitle of the book) not ‘Story.’ She further explains the semantic and inherent difference between the idea of a story and that of a tale:

“These nine tales owe a debt to tales through the ages. Calling a piece of short fiction a “tale” removes it at least slightly from the realm of mundane works and days, as it evokes the world of the folk tale, the wonder tale, and the long-ago teller of tales. We may safely assume that all tales are fiction, whereas a “story” might well be a true story about what we usually agree to call “real life,” as well as a short story that that keeps within the boundaries of social realism.”

“Stone Mattress,” was published in two-thousand and fourteen, a year which many noted, showed a resurging interest in the short story. Many believed this renewed interest came from Alice Munro’s Nobel; and in following year, many well-known writers (Graham Swift, Lydia Davis, Hilary Mantel, and Margaret Atwood) would publish a collection of short stories; be it to capitalize on the short story’s unprecedented success, or perhaps in celebration of its success.

I stumbled upon “Stone Mattress,” after a hellish day and in a frenzied night of my mind whirling about. I rarely stop by the local library; its shelves are packed with the populist demands and general requirements of the reading public. The library does not (with no one at fault) even begin to scrap the surface of my niche literary tastes. Upon arrival though, I stumbled upon Atwood’s limited selection available. To be honest, it was difficult to say what I was looking for—perhaps just a familiar old friend who I haven’t chatted with in a while and desired to meet again, if only briefly. The works available of her extensive bibliography did not begin to quench my desire to read her work. First and foremost I looked for the final volume of her “MaddAddam Trilogy,” the eponymous novel “MaddAddam,” but could not find it. Then I decided perhaps there will be something from her back catalogue worth exploring, which I had not read. The only other books available were: “Oryx and Crake,” “The Year of the Flood,” “Hag-Seed,” “Blind Assassin,” “Cats Eye,” and “Stone Mattress.” I had known “Hag-Seed,” was the most recent publication and picked it up first, after which I made my way to an office chair (because all the comfy chairs were taken by a gaggle of gabbing girls, swooning and awing amongst their juvenile gossip), and sat down to read. My first impressions after reading the prologue, was that I was not in the mood for a novel written in the format of a play—now after further research, the only hint of a play like format at first glance was in the first part, while the rest moves with greater ease of controlled prose, with its sentences and paragraphs. After that it was “Stone Mattress.” I rationalized the decision by stating, I’ve read most of all the other works, and I do enjoy short stories—so “Stone Mattress,” it was; after settling into the office chair again, I read the first story “Alphinland,” and decided, the book would return home with me.

First impressions are dangerously important. “Stone Mattress,” begins with three strong interconnected tales, titled: “Alphinland,” “Revenant,” and “Dark Lady.” These three short stories recount the encounters of three individuals, who were involved with artists and poets during the sixties. The three works recount two women who orbit and revolve on the axis of infatuation, lust and even love for a poet by the name of Gavin. Gavin is introduced as a poet, who is bloated egotistical nature, is remarked with crystal cold clarity that is afforded to those of age. Gavin becomes well known for his sexually charged poems of his youth, where he discusses sex and immortalizes his lovers in his sonnets. One such lover is Constance (from ‘Alphinland,’) who lived and loved Gavin in their shared youth. They lived in abject poverty, which she rationalizes the circumstances, by adding a bit of glamour to the situation, with the romantic notion that she was supporting the great poet Gavin as he starved for his art and lounged around for inspiration, while she worked monotonous and mundane jobs to pay the rent and get some food. Solace comes for sweet Constance in her fantasy writings titled ‘Alphinland,’ which she sells off and makes a pretty penny from; though her fantasy writings are looked down upon by both Gavin and his friends; though when it came to pay for beer or pick up a tab they would always sing praise with undercurrents of mocking malice:

“They’d tease her by saying she was writing about garden gnomes, and she’d laugh say yes, but today the gnomes had dug up their crock of golden coins and would buy them all a beer. They liked the free beer part of it, and would make toasts: “Here’s to the gnomes! Long may the roam! A gnome in every home!”’

Youth is not without its pitfalls. Gavin who is defined by his own self-assurance he is genius; and this vanity does not stop simply at his confident state that he is creative genius—his physical appearance also allows him to be equally as vain, and show off his sexual prowess. As it would happen, he would cheat on Constance with a certain woman by the name of Marjorie. Constance and Gavin would then split apart, and Constance would move to become a multimillionaire, with hordes of fans devouring and devoting themselves to her personal sanctuary of ‘Alphinland.’ A fact which only later on, would drive Gavin to be resentful of the success of Constance with her “juvenile pablum,” then he was with his literary superior poems. Though he would resign himself to his own fate, as a professor of creative writing in Manitoba before taking up with a third wife and heading to the west coast, to reflect and spew his vitriolic contempt at those who come near; much like the young scholar:

“This idea is dismaying: having some estrogen-plumped babe a quarter of his age contort his stringy knobbled limbs while comparing the dashing protagonist of his earlier poems, replete with sexual alacrity and sardonic wit, to the atrophied bundle of twine and sticks he has become.”

Yet what could be more insulting, but to find out that Gavin—the mediocre ego driven poet—is not the subject of her research and thesis, but rather Constance, and her subpar literary achievements in the realm of fantasy.

Its Atwood’s wicked and vicious commentary via her narrators and her own authorial voice is what makes this collection worth the read. It turns out rather quickly that Atwood has little patience of the grieving of loss youth and beauty, or the mindless comfy thoughts of nostalgia, in an attempt to make life feel all that much better. It is in these moments her humorous venom seeps through with the greatest criticism attached, as she asks more daunting questions about the indignity of youth and the arrogance of youth, in the context of a new idea and form of discrimination such as ‘ageism.’ Her commentary on the crumbling boundaries between high literary art and that of genre fiction is lively and enticing; just as is her depiction of the indignities of age and the arrogance of youth, in the context of ageism. Her social viewpoints contain just as much merit as they do delightful rancor with her scathing candor.

Admittedly while reading “Stone Mattress,” I picked up the meter stick of measurement for short story collections, to hold up against Margaret Atwood’s recent collection. Currently, “Family Furnishings: Selected Stories 1995-2014,” by Alice Munro sits next me. I often dive (much like an Olympic diver—speedo and all) into the selected work of Munro’s fiction presented to me, from her later career. In it is there is much to savour and enjoy. Some short stories are better than others; but the usual Munro charm exists regardless. While reading a Munro short story such as “The Love of a Good Woman,” with its spectacular opening narrative, with the three young boys who find the submerged car of the town optometrist; Munro gracefully and briefly sketches the different homes lives of each of the three boys, and then the narrative once again shifts to a different perspective. Throughout reading the short story, once is able to see the endless and grand potential of the short story. How it is capable of twisting and twining through a complex and multilayered narrative, and still concludes with Munro’s typical understated understanding with a great dosage of uncertainty. It should come to no surprise when reading “Stone Mattress,” by Margaret Atwood; I would compare the two short stories, and what the two writers do with each form.

With the exception of “Alphinland,” “Revenant,” and “Dark Lady,” the remaining six tales collected, often leave something to be desired. The eponymous tale “Stone Mattress,” left one with a certain hankering for more. Verna is a compelling creature. Despite her age she retains a certain vanity, coupled with a well-earned vitriolic perspective towards life and men, which she has carefully disposed of, like unwanted luggage left at the airport. As the short tale progresses, we grasp the connection between Verna (and her unfortunate past) with a fellow member of an artic cruise, by the name of Bob. The story reaches its eventual conclusion, with a fair great dose of Atwood’s wicked and scathing sense of humour. Yet Verna remains in my mind undeveloped. Youthful naivety coupled with a sheltered childhood, led to a recipe for disaster. Though we gather a glimpse of this through Verna’s reflection of the time, and how quick she learned to survive in a world which would quickly abandon her, as it tosses her aside as a disposable creature. Her resilience is admirable, though her resentment is disturbing (though understandable). In this instance, greater elucidation would have been more enjoyable to have seen, to grasp a better understanding of Verna. She’s not entirely evil or nasty (a murderer yes) but not inherently evil; it brings to mind these vicious words of wisdom from Veira from “Dolores Caliborne,”: “Sometimes you have to be a high riding bitch to survive. Sometimes being a bitch is all a woman has to hang on to.” We are given a glimpse of Verna’s character before and her realization, beyond that we are only given the vitriolic husk in which she has become, and her darkly twisted vengeful self.

Reading, “Stone Mattress,” after a rough go, was a delightful read; made pleasurable by the scolding sarcasm which is populates the collection. Margaret Atwood is considered one of the best of Canadian literature, by merit and statistical evidence with her critical acclaim and reader popularity. Her work is noted for its social observations and dire warnings (“The Hand Maids Tale,” and “The MaddAddam Trilogy,” come to mind); but beyond the possible pessimistic doom, which may lurk around the corner; Atwood is profoundly wry lively and delightfully dark in voicing her brutal candor with a delightful rancorous characters.

Not many books have made me guffaw loudly, as some of the tales in “Stone Mattress,” have. It was an enjoyable and required read, which, given the circumstances helped diffuse a rather explosive situation in my personal life. Though some of the works collected succeed, it is often apparent, that the novel is a literary form which is perhaps more suited for Margaret Atwood, in which she is allocated the room necessary to fully develop and discuss her observations and ideas. But this judgement is once again being measured next to the work of Alice Munro, Anton Chekhov, among other great short story writers, who found great success in the form and were capable of making the short story their own. When Margaret Atwood as at the pinnacle of her abilities, they shine with her wit and her keen sense of social injustice or observations regarding where society is at; when it does not reach that same level, they come across as under developed and a bit dissatisfying. Yet if this collection of work is to be read, for anything above else, the first three tales, are wroth the read!

Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader

Take Care

And As Always

Stay Well Read

M. Mary

Love in a Fallen City

Hello Gentle Reader

When Mo Yan became the Nobel Laureate in Literature in two-thousand and twelve, I among others decried the decision as political panhandling and appeasement towards the Chinese governments lobbying for a officially recognized Chinese writer, to receive the Nobel accolade, which in part would be seen as an official acknowledgement on an international stage, of China’s cultural significance. The decision was divisive, with little room for neutrality. Fellow Nobel Laureate in Literature (and a personal favourite) Herta Müller called the decision: ‘a disaster.’ Salman Rushdie, who is no stranger to controversy and his well-documented public opinions; called Mo Yan a ‘patsy of the regime,’ in reference to Mo Yan’s known camaraderie with the Communist Government of China. Yet apologists of Mo Yan would come to his defense. They asserted the criticism of Mo Yan, were baseless and political at best; merely slandering his character, and undermining his literary achievements; in which (they state) that he criticizes the Chinese government on a regional or provincial level, showcasing mild dissidence at best. They further elucidated their arguments by stating the award is literary not political, and therefore Mo Yan’s political inclinations (if there are any) are not valid criticisms of his literary output, which obviously helped him become a Nobel Laureate in Literature. However, others such as Perry Link, who wrote for the ‘New York Review of Books,’ that he took aim at Mo Yan not only because of his political convictions and instead embrace the ubiquitous political ambiguities which are expected of him, but also because of his lack of engagement (or rather complete engagement) with twentieth century Chinese history. As Mister Link notes, when it comes to some catastrophe of twentieth century Chinese history, Mo Yan deflects the event with what he calls ‘daft hilarity,’ which may involve sheep seamen and rabbits or turnips carved into the likeness of donkey dicks. Yet a defender of Mo Yan stated this is not a evasion of the event, but rather a satirical approach to it. Though Mister Link and I obviously share a common idea of what satire is (and no, donkey dicks and seamen are not high on my list of satirical merit).  This method of satire diminishes the tragedy of those events, like the Great Chinese Famine, where 30 million people died, from more than just uncooperative weather, but also mismanagement by the government. Of course other atrocities were also committed during this time such as people being burned alive, or cracking individuals heads open with a shovel (called: opening the flower). Yet in the case of Mo Yan, the issue, the atrocities, the catastrophe is also skipped around in favour of crude humour, which offers a good guffaw (I suppose) and does not upset the political perspective or position on the matter. I myself had defended my own position on Mo Yan, by stating: when one comes from a documented and known authoritarian state, which has blatantly disregarded the idea of human rights and acceptable basic freedoms; there is no middle ground, the writer either stands with the government or dissents against it. In this sense, and by this position, Mo Yan had obliviously allowed himself to settle on the lap of the government.

Mo Yan maybe seen as a victim of political atmosphere and ulterior motives, which involuntarily affect him, and often put him in the middle of a controversial storm, which is engaged more about a lack of political stances then it is about literary quality; but it should be noted: if Mo Yan is a victim of such circumstances, then Eileen Chang, was a neglected causality because of political revolution and reform, despite the fact Eileen Chang was politically indifferent.

Eileen Chang’s early life was a life of contrast. Her mother was a westernized, refined and educated woman of great sophistication. Chang’s mother had left for the United Kingdom when Eileen Chang was two years old, because her father had taken a concubine (mistress) and had become addicted to opium. Though her mother would return years later, her parents would get divorced in 1930, and Eileen Chang and her brother Zhang Zijing were raised by their father.

Chang’s education began when she was four years old. Along with her Chinese education, Chang showcased a strong affiliation with English as well. Despite the fact that her family was not religious, she had graduated from an all-female Christian high school, and had plans to study at the University of London on a full scholarship, but was unable to achieve this goal, because the Second Sino-Japanese was had broken out. During this time, it is noted that Eileen Chang had a argument with her father and her stepmother, and contracted dysentery; rather than receiving treatment her father had locked her in room for six months. During this confinement, Chang had experienced vivid hallucinations. Shortly after her eighteenth birthday, Eileen Chang would run away from her father’s dark and dingy world of addiction and abuse, and would seek refuge with her mother. Afterwards Chang would leave to study English Literature at Hong Kong University, but one semester short of finishing her degree, Eileen Chang would have to abandon her studies as Hong Kong fell to the Empire of Japan. Though she moved back to mainland China (specifically Shanghai), Eileen Chang did not complete her studies do to financial complications. Despite the lack of education, in which she received, Eileen Chang was known as a literary prodigy. She had published numerous of her short stories in the school magazine, and at the age of twelve she had already written her debut novel. At the age of twenty three in 1943, a story by Eileen Chang had reached a prominent editor of the time, Zhou Shoujuan; that story was: “Aloeswood Incense: the First Brazier.” The story would be Eileen Chang’s publishing debut, and remains one of her most well know works. After the publication of “Aloeswood Incense: the First Brazier,” in Zhou Shoujuan’s magazine ‘Violet,’ as a special feature, Eileen Chang would become a literary sensation. Afterwards, Eileen Chang would publish more short stories and novella’s (known as her Hong Kong stories) and collected them in a volume titled: ‘Romances.’ Though the stories are set in Hong Kong, Chang wrote them through the perspective of someone from Shanghai, and hoped the island city depicted in the works, would resonate and be enjoyed by those of Shanghai. Though Chang found success during this time as a writer and screenwriter, praised for her mature voice, which exceeded her young years, it was short lived.

Romance and love for Eileen Chang was much like the relationship she witnessed between her mother and father growing up. She married Hu Lancheng secretly in 1944; and remained loyal to her husband, despite him being branded a traitor and collaborator with the Japanese occupying forces during the war. However, the marriage was not salvageable, as Lancheng was a philanderer, and the two divorced in 1947.

After the end of World War II and the end of the Chinese Communist Revolution, the political atmosphere of China changed, turning even dangerous, and in the fifities, Eileen Chang would leave her beloved Shanghai behind, and immigrate back to Hong Kong. It was here Eileen Chang wrote more, and worked for three years in the United States Information Service. During this time Chang wrote “The Rice Sprout Song,” which is unique as it is the first novel Chang wrote solely in English; but going further “The Rice Sprout Song,” details Chang’s own ambivalence towards the new Chinese regime, and its egotistical structure and demand for complete compliance. After completing “The Rice Sprout Song,” the USIO (United States Information Service) commissioned Chang to write another novel, with a specified outline, which would become “Naked Earth.” Chang commented that writing “Naked Earth,” was a miserable ordeal as well as painful, as the work itself did not come from her originally. In 1955 Eileen Chang would leave Hong Kong for the United States, and she would never return to China.

Despite immigrating to the United States, Eileen Chang did not stop writing, though she mainly worked on writing screenplays. From 1957 – 1964, Eileen Chang wrote nine screenplays which were produced. Chang never expressed any disdain or lack of fulfillment with screenwriting which other writers do. Chang treated writing more as a profession then a passion; she excelled in all its form such as screenplay writing, and would find success in it, just as she had with her earlier pre-war shanghai novella’s and short stories.

Chang’s later life in the sixties and seventies were less and less well documented. She married for a second time to a screenplay writer Ferdinand Reyher, but tragedy would once again strike, as Reyher would be struck by numerous strokes and die in 1967. After which Eileen Chang would hold short-term jobs at Radcliff College and University of California, Berkeley. In 1972 Eileen Chang moved to Los Angles; from there she worked on translations, and became increasingly reclusive. Eileen Chang would die in 1995 at the age of seventy four. Chang was not found until a few days after her death, in her sparely furnished apartment by her landlord, which testifies to her reclusive lifestyle. She was cremated and her ashes were unceremoniously dumped into the Pacific Ocean. Her estate was left to her old friends back in Hong Kong.

Throughout her later life, in which she lived in voluntarily exile, Eileen Chang was forbidden in her homeland of mainland China. Her works were representative of a bourgeoisie lifestyle and undermined the communist revolutionary ideals. All of this would best be considered unfortunate, as Eileen Chang showed no political interest in any of her works. The only novel in which she displayed any independent political stance would be “The Rice Sprout Song,” in where she casts a skeptical eye on the Communist party’s revolutionary ideas; and “Naked Earth,” by contrast was commissioned by the United States government to be used as anti-communist propaganda, and Chang herself had found the work laboriously dissatisfying. Eileen Chang though overall was not interested in the political situations of her country. She preferred to write about the relationships of individuals, and the subtle complexities of societal traditions and independent desires. Yet she would be forbidden and forgotten for much of her later life in her home country. Chang herself represented a previous China, one in in which the Communist Revolution sought to distance itself from – if not completely obliterate from recent memory. She was not ideologically suitable, for the communist propagating machine. Her lack of political convictions saw her unjustly forgotten and forsaken from her beloved Shanghai and homeland. Considering the personal upheavals and challenges Eileen Chang faced in her personal life; this persecution against her must have simply been the final obstacle which she took on and then resigned herself too, choosing to live quietly and alone, utterly unknown in Los Angeles.

I often imagine Eileen Chang and Mu Xin, as the two most prominent and forgotten writers who found themselves as victims of ideology and history. Yet the two writers remained resilient towards the persecution. Unlike Mu Xin, Eileen Chang never found herself physically in danger of the Communist oppression; though she was close enough to the fire too be burned with her first marriage, and it could be discerned, she preemptively removed herself from the dangers of being burned. The two writers share a common story of exile, and reconciliation. Both writers are now well revered in China, Hong Kong and Taiwan. Eileen Chang has once again found her successes and early literary stardom reinstated, as her vintage, sophisticated and graceful work has fond new readership, and much admiration.

For English language readers though, Eileen Chang is still foreign. Many may be acquainted with Eileen Chang from Ang Lee’s espionage film “Lust and Caution,” which is based off a manuscript by Eileen Chang; but beyond this, Chang would be more known in Chinese literature classes, then a casual read. This is rather disappointing, considering her scathing insights into human relationships, refined into fine silk prose, whose pessimistic overtones only begin to veil after the reader is engrossed.

“Love in a Fallen City,” is a great starting point for any reader wishing to get introduced into the works of Eileen Chang. It’s a collection of her novella’s and short stories, which detail the independent lives of people living in Hong Kong and Shanghai in the 1930s and 1940s. In these works, Eileen Chang offers a time capsule of a fading world, now completely alien (or nostalgic) to the China of today, which its blend of communist ideology along with its straddled capitalistic ventures. The stories presented here showcase traditions trying to maintain relevancy in an increasingly modern world, with revolutionary ideas, being stroked down alleys and in basements. The titular story itself “Love in a Fallen City,” presents the vindictive viciousness of the traditional ways of life, but offers hope with the modern sensibilities taking over. It’s a slight tale of two cities: Shanghai representing a traditional conservative center of Chinese culture; versus Hong Kong and its bright future and its metropolitan air. The two cities are presented during the Japanese occupation, and traces the relationship between Bai Liu-Su, a divorcee who suffers her extended family’s barbs and jabs, for their understanding she has brought shame upon them; and the charming Malayan business man Fan Liy-yuan, who takes an interest in Bai Liu-Su. Through the occupation of Hong Kong and the devastation, Eileen Chang presents only a small glimpse of hope for the young lovers, this will be the only inclination of a happy ending to appear in the work.

“Love in a Fallen City,” retraces the themes of relationships of her characters. The woman are oppressed by old feudal desires, they desire and dream of a pure idea of love, but over time become pessimistic with the notion and disenfranchised by their existence, to the point of desolate despair. The saving grace however of this rather dark perspective presented here, is the glitz and the glamour in which these disturbing acts take place. My personal favourite of this collection: “Aloeswood Incense: The First Brazier,” is an expert example of the ideal youth attempting to better their life, but are engrossed then ensnared and finally entrapped.

“Aloeswood Incense: The First Brazier,” documents the life of the young girl Weilong who seeks out her disgraced aunt Madame Liang, in order to seek her support in her studies, in which she can further her future and better her life. Wisdom, cunning, cleverness, a sharp mind – these are not attributes which are often attributed to youth, and as the novella progresses, we see and understand why. Weilong’s aunt is scandalous and there is good reason her brother has distanced himself from her. Yet Weilong possess the most wonderful qualities of youth: stubbornness, headstrong,  self-assurance; which inevitably will be her downfall. Weilong is enticed in the luxurious world of her aunt, Madame Liang; where she lives a life of glamour, fashion, and of course her house is equipped with servants. In this setting Weilong is a child placed within the centre of her dreams, and begins to understand the cost of it, and even willing chooses to go down a path of prostitution (as Madame Liang, was a rich man’s concubine), in order to emulate the life of her aunt. When confronted with the reality of her decision—by observing real prostitutes—Weilong considers the difference herself and the prostitutes she observes, and yet with almost frank revelation, she admits with cool reasoning, there is no difference, between herself and the prostitutes, with only one exception: they have no choice in their profession, while she readily took to it like a cat to milk.

“Aloeswood Incense: The First Brazier,” is a striking portrait of a young girl who makes an attempt at bettering herself—education, getting a job, going to work, and living a respectable life for herself; she becomes a shining example of the possibilities of modernity in contrast to the stifling traditions of prior societal cultural traditions. Yet, Chang makes a startling statement with regards to Weilong: she lacks the certainty to be a modern woman, and falls into the same entrapments and roles of women, that have plagued them for many years, and what is worst, Weilong shows no remorse or shame in her decision, but rather embraces it.

“Love in A Fallen City,” is a collection of Eileen Chang’s work. The prose glitters, with luxury and a unique and local world of China, in which many of us will not know now; but beneath the jewelry, the fine fashion, the money – they all hang on the spiders web, and while one is busy and distracted trying on the luxuries of life, they are slowly consumed by the grander web, which laid hidden beneath the fineries which always catch our attention before the trap or the cage is even considered. It’s not a light read, but it’s made bearable by its often lightness of scenery, which only fades when the eventual price tag and interest come to collect the payment for those refineries.

Eileen Chang at the height of her powers has a keen critical eye of individuals who fall prey to their own foolishness. She coldly dissects the relationships between individuals and the sexual politics at play within those relationships. Now considered a genius and a legend, Eileen Chang is now renowned in her homeland, as one of the greatest writers to have worked in the Chinese language, during the twentieth century. Her novels are more than just doomed romances, they critically cast a skeptical eye over society, but the observational findings are only noted in the most myopic or smallest of places; but that is exactly where they are felt, lived and understood the most—in the most intimate of places, between lovers, between husbands and wives, between family members.

It should be mentioned, the collection itself can be difficult to understand, because of the unique local culture and atmosphere (as well as time period) that Eileen Chang writes about. Thankfully the collection is a well cited and documented source of wealth of resources. The introduction by Karen S. Kingsbury, and the subsequent footnotes, gives one an understanding of the writer, as well as the cultural landscape of the time.

Eileen Chang died alone as a recluse in her apartment in Los Angeles. Her body was discovered four days after her death. She voluntarily went into exile, perhaps with a understanding she would end up there if she stayed in China regardless. She was a victim of history and ideology; but she was also a victim of personal tragedies. Her childhood was unhappy, and she only appeared to experience success early on, before political atmospheres had obliterated her happiness. Eileen Chang however is now considered one of the most influential Chinese writers, of the last century, and she retains a devoted readership to this day. I do think because of Eileen Chang’s voluntary exile and seclusion from the world, is the only way she escaped the political decision, in which other writers have been forced to make. If Eileen Chang had stayed in China I wonder if she would have been faced with the decision of imprisonment, re-education and persecution so many other writers had suffered; or would she resolve herself to the gilded birdcage, as a sweet songbird, in which to praise the reigning ideology. Only by complete removal I think was Chang able to avoid the decision. It should be noted other writers have not been so fortunate to have had that freedom. Yet Chang’s own personal decision came at its own price; a price of seclusion, exile, and abandonment from the world, where she was overlooked and forgotten, and only later on was she to be reinstated and appreciated for the talents in which she possessed.

Eileen Chang is a tragic legend, but it makes her work even more potent and more relevant to be seen through those lenses to a degree. There can be no doubt: Eileen Chang is certainly a genius and a legend.

Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader
Take Care
And As Always
Stay Well Read

M. Mary

Svetlana Alexievich Resigns from Russian PEN

Hello Gentle Reader,

Along with thirty other writers (so far) Nobel Laureate in Literature, and chronicler of the Soviet Soul and experience, Svetlana Alexievich has resigned from the Russian PEN central over controversy and criticism of the organization expelling journalist, activist, and political commentator Sergey Parkhomenko from the organization. Alexievich’s statement from January 11^th reads as follows [ from The Guardian ]:

“My comment on Parkhomenko’s exclusion [from PEN] can only be my application to leave the Russian PEN, whose founding ideals were cravenly violated. In the perestroika* years we took pride in our PEN but now we are ashamed of it. Russian writers acted as subserviently and outrageously only during the Stalinist period. But Putin will go, whereas this shameful page from the history of PEN will stay. And the names will stay, too. We now live through times when we cannot win over evil, we are powerless before the ‘red man’. But he cannot stop time. I believe in that.”

* perestroika would refer to the beginning of Gorbachev’s thawing polices and restricting and reform measures.  

Svetlana Alexievich is not the first writer to publish her resignation letter online. Many other writes have also, publicly denounced the organization, and its inability to follow the mandate of the PEN Center’s values, in the promotion and maintenance of basic human rights when it comes to freedom of expression, such as writing. One of Russia’s most widely read and popular writers Boris Akunin, has also resigned from the organization. Akunin states the Russian center is no longer acting in agreeance with the other network of PEN centers, and has failed in its mission to protect the rights of freedom of expression and free speech; Akunin would go on to state the centre has failed to defend persecuted writers, like Sergey Parkhomenko.

The Russian PEN centre has defended its move to expel Sergey Parkhomenko from its organization, due to his ‘provocative activity,’ and ‘for trying to destroy the organization from within.’ Sergey Parkhomenko believes his expulsion from the organization is politically motivated because he has criticized the organization for not defending the Ukrainian filmmaker Oleg Sentsov who is serving a twenty year prison sentence because of ‘terrorist activity,’ which he was convicted of in a Russian court.  Oleg Sentsov was found guilty of attempting to commit arson by setting political party offices on fire in the Crimea capital; as well as attempting to blow up a statue of Lenin. The ruling was heavily criticized by international organizations, such as amnesty international, who declared the trial a: ‘redolent of Stalinist-era show trial.’ Oleg Sentsov has apparently spent three years in a Russian prison, and as of last year, is now housed in a Siberian penal colony – which has no ringing inclination of Soviet era judicial proceedings and punishments at all.

This is not the first time Sergey Parkhomenko has found himself on the wrong side of the political argument. In two-thousand and eleven the journalist was instrumental in Russia protest movements, which challenged Vladimir Putin’s third term as president. Sergey Parkhomenko would also participate in the: “Ukraine – Russia: A Dialogue,” conference organized by Ukrainian-civil society organizations and Mikhail Khodorkovsky (a noted enemy of Putin), where Ukrainian and Russian intellectuals, journalist, writers and politicians would try to reach a resolution for the Crimea annexation.

In her Nobel Lecture Svetlana Alexievich stated:

“Russia chose to be strong over worthy.”

With recent news reports, articles, opinion pieces—and now this; it can be certainly be concluded that Svetlana Alexievich is correct, in how Russia is currently defining itself on the world stage, and displaying its strength.

“A time full of hope has been replaced by a time of fear.”

This is where the world and Russia now currently sis: in an ever perplexing state of purgatory and body building show of muscle flexing. No one is awing at the marvel of these political powers. Rather they are ashamed and afraid of what happens when flexing turns into deliberate and violent force. Where does: Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania sit? They must be terrified of the Siberian tiger stalking about next door. Estonia itself survived a 2007 cyber terrorist attack, which resulted in civil unrest, and unfortunately the Russian minority would suffer the most, with arrest and assaults by others. Now though they are on the teeth’s edge, as the Siberian tiger lurks just over the horizon, now through licking its wounds, its eyes blaze with a self-assured and blind red past tinted with the roses of nostalgia. If the Baltics are surely uncomfortable, then Eastern Europe must feel the ground shake. Some are perhaps too disorganized to create a united front to dispel any attempts at appropriation; while others will strike back until they are dead, before they are consumed once again under the ruby chains of a greater power.

Yet, Alexievich does leave defiant hope in her parting words with Russia PEN:

“But Putin will go, whereas this shameful page from the history of PEN will stay. And the names will stay, too. We now live through times when we cannot win over evil, we are powerless before the ‘red man’. But he cannot stop time. I believe in that.”

Though the present is lacking in any glimmer or shred of hope; time has proven to be a cruel master of the wheel, and it crushes obsolete ideas beneath it, without looking back. The battle maybe lost today; but war is time immemorial when it comes to ideas, rights and ideals; and on that front only time reserves the ability to ground up the inefficient or insubstantial into dust in its mortar and pestle.

Edit—[ January 24th 2017 ] 

The Plot Thickens my Dear Gentle Reader. Russia PEN has recently claimed that Svetlana Alexievich’s resignation from the organization is absurd, as she did not belong to the organization in the first place.

In a statement to the American PEN Centre, the Russian PEN did its best to mitigate and extinguish the criticism the Russian Centre has received due to the protests of authors, who have resigned, over allegations that the Russian branch of the international organization, has declined defending individuals and their rights to freedom of speech and expression. The Russian PEN centre has claimed: only one side of the story has been presented, and would like to clarify and present their own case in their defense.

In their statement, Russian Pen has claimed the dismissal of Sergey Parkhomenko was simply put: disciplinary. In their statement the centre had this to say about the reasons for their decision, and why Sergey Parkhomenko was removed from the organization:

“He appears to be a very rude person, our member colleagues have been constantly suffering from his verbal aggression in the media. When he came to broadcast his view that the honorary president of the Russian PEN and the vice-president of PEN International Mr. Andrey Bitov was a delirious old alcoholic we thought we had to take measures. Mr. Parkhomenko could be sued for libel, but we have opted for a softer decision.”

The centre did not top there in discussing the controversy over Sergey Parkhomenko removal from the organization; it would continue to elucidate on the political situation currently at rise in Ukraine and Russia over the annexation of the Crimea peninsula from Ukraine. In doing so, the Russian branch of PEN has taken a strong political stance with regards to the situation:

“Certainly, his case was just a trigger to explode the controversy that had existed in our PEN center for the last couple of years. It’s about whether to remain unbiased in our human rights actions. It’s also a projection of the horrible Russian-Ukrainian warfare which has been going on in our neighboring countries. Mr. Parkhomenko and his supporters leaving the Russian PEN now are of the opinion that the current Russian power is the only source of all misfortunes in Russia and Ukraine. Any criticism of the crimes committed by the Ukrainian regime against oppositional writers and journalists is irrelevant to them, their native Russia being the only evil. However, there have been a few murders and dozens of arrests, beatings and repressions against writers and journalists in Ukraine in the past two years, nothing of the kind happening in Russia. Their discourse is hardly a human rights one but a politically prejudiced one, and this has been the crux of the matter for some time. We admit that the media warfare may be powerful and convincing, but the facts and rational thinking should always be with us to have proper understanding and take the right steps.”

This of course refers to the case of Oleg Sentsov who is currently serving a prison sentence in Siberia because of charges of terrorism; and yet one cannot get past the political allegiances the centre has defined for its self, with regards to the conflict. It explicitly states:

“Mr. Parkhomenko and his supporters leaving the Russian PEN now are of the opinion that the current Russian power is the only source of all misfortunes in Russia and Ukraine. Any criticism of the crimes committed by the Ukrainian regime against oppositional writers and journalists is irrelevant to them, their native Russia being the only evil.”

The statement closed with criticism of Svetlana Alexievich:

“It is also essential to inform you that the Nobel Prize winner Svetlana Aleksievich has never been a member of the Russian PEN, so her declaration of leaving it sounds bizarre.”

Svetlana Alexievich refuted the claim she did not belong to the organization by posting a photo of her membership, which dates back to 1995. Alexievich also would continue of her criticism of the Russian PEN centre claiming its allegiances to the Russian government, and propagating ‘new patriotism,’ which has infected Russia:

“That’s the mood today. This so-called ‘new patriotism’ is a frightening phenomenon. I have lost many friends because I don’t support [Russia’s invasion of] Crimea … I’m instantly called a Russophobe, whereas they say of themselves: ‘We are Statalists, we are for Great Russia.’”

Whichever side; whichever case, one chooses to believe, it can be concluded that Russia has mistaken greatness with selective nostalgia. Russia (and Russians) like anyone else will crave stability, and the ability to have and maintain a job, while also having the ability to have a family, as well as raise it and provide for it. It is however a shame that an organization which exists to defend fundamental freedoms, such as: freedom of speech and expression; would align itself within political perspectives, which bring into question the ethics and moral ability, the organization has  in executing its own mandate.

Jennifer Clement, the current President of PEN International, delivered a speech at Oxfam Novib/PEN Awards, which she praises the dissident writers, and criticizes the current political atmosphere within Russia and its ideological stance. She began by quoting Anna Politkovskaya, the assassinated Russian journalist, who was highly critical of Russian President Vladimir Putin; and would finish off with support for those writers who have protested against Russian PEN as well as the jailed filmmaker Oleg Sentsov, who Clement ceremoniously petitioned to be set free, before welcoming Mikhail Shishkin to the stage.

At the end of the day Gentle Reader, freedom of expression is a fundamental right of all societies—not just Democratic. To speak, to share our opinion(s) and disagree with them, are the fundamental building blocks of intelligent discussions within a society. It is always with a heavy heart though when the ability to speak is muzzled and gagged, by political ideology. It is then we realize that moving forward, is either stalled or halted; and the future has become all that more unclear. Despite sinking hearts though, they remain with support with the dissident writers, such as: Svetlana Alexievich and company. 

Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader

Take Care

And As Always

Stay Well Read

M. Mary

For more information about Svetlana Alexievich resignation from Russia PEN and the other writers who have also given their voice in protest, please follow the link below to The Guardian article.

https://www.theguardian.com/books/2017/jan/14/nobel-prize-winner-svetlana-alexievich-quits-shameful-russian-pen

Edit—[ January 24th 2017 ] 

The Russian PEN Centre's statement:

http://www.penrussia.org/new/2017/7747

The following is an article from "The Guardian," which discusses Svetlana Alexievich's refute of the centre's statement:

https://www.theguardian.com/books/2017/jan/24/russian-pen-svetlana-alexievich-membership-proof

The following link is to Jennifer Clement's speech and noted remark about the situation and controversy surrounding Russian PEN.

http://www.pen-international.org/newsitems/pen-international-president-jennifer-clement-delivers-keynote-speech-at-the-oxfam-novibpen-awards/

Jacob Polley wins 2016 T.S. Eliot Prize

Hello Gentle Reader,

The judges for the 2016 T.S. Eliot Prize described Jacob Polley’s poetry collection: “Jackself,” as a: “Firework of a book.” The poetry collection uses the nursey rhyme “Jack,” to narrate a collection of poems about a mythological and loosely autobiographical English childhood. This is not the first time Jacob Polley has found himself acquainted with the T.S. Eliot Prize. Polley was shortlisted in two-thousand three with his debut collection of poems: “The Brink,” and would return again to the shortlist in two-thousand and twelve with his second collection of poems: “The Havocs.” Since his debut, Jacob Polley has been a noted poetic force in contemporary English poetry.  In two-thousand and four he was one of the twenty poets who were named to be the best poets of the Next Generation of British poetry. But poetry has not been Polley’s sole medium of writing. In two-thousand and ten he has written a novel: Talk of the Town,” which won the Somerset Maugham award.

Ruth Padel who chaired this years judges, would go on to describe “Jackself,” as follows:

“It’s a sort of autobiography, set in a place called Lamanby, but it’s really like Mervyn Peake’s Gormenghast, where everything is strange. His mastery of phrase and rhythm and the control of line, combined with the hurts of childhood and his glee in inventive language, have taken his writing to a new level.”

The T.S. Eliot Prize carries a £20, 000 purse, with the runners up to the award each receiving £1500 dollars. For this the award is noted as being the most coveted poetry award in the United Kingdom. Last year, for the first time the award went to a debut collection called: “Loop of Jade,” by Sarah Howe.

Congratulations to Jacob Polley! May he write more prose work hopefully in the future along with his teaching career and his rising poetic success.

Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader

Take Care

And As Always

Stay Well Read

M. Mary

Zhou Youguang, Dies Aged 111

Hello Gentle Reader

The father of the Pinyin—a Romanized version of Chinese; Zhou Youguang has died in Beijing on January 14^th at the age of 111. Pinyin was adopted in China sixty years ago. The new form of writing however was not a destruction of the previously ancient language, but rather a new way of exploring and becoming acquainted with the language, and its tens of thousands of characters. The revolutionary language enhancement has increased literacy in China since its adoption, assisted students in learning the language, and has now helped the blind read the language in braille. Recent development however, has seen the language now capable of reaching technological mediums, with the characters appearing on keyboards and cell phones. Its thanks in large part to Pinyin that the Mandarin language was simplified to changing and redeveloping how the language interacted on a global stage. In large part Beijing owes its name to Pinyin, from its original Peking; as well as the infamous communist leader and Dictator Mao Zedong from his original (or traditional) name: Mao Tse-tung. The system would later be adopted by the International Organization for Standardization and the United Nations. Despite this achievement, Zhou Youguang is not a person celebrated in China, for of course political reasons. Zhou Youguang was the oldest political dissident of China, often criticizing the communist regime, but as his life continued, he was struck with the unique ability of invincibility of age and with it a loose tongue to let loose his opinions and views of the situation in China. When asked about concerns about retaliation from the Chinese communist government in 2012, Zhou Youguang remarked: “what are they going to do? Come and take me away?”

Despite his great accomplishment of creating Pinyin, Zhou Youguang was not a linguist by training. Rather he was a economist, who had a deep love and interest in linguistics, the Mandarin language, and lexicography. Yet these interests would appear to save his life, as Mao Zedong despised economists – especially those who had been trained or worked in the United States; where ironically enough Zhou Youguang had worked during World War II, and the Sino-Japanese war. But this was not the only strike working against Youguang either, his father was an official during the Qing dynasty (the last Imperial dynasty of China before the communists took control and maintain it). Yet it was a chance meeting and conscription by the Chinese government to re-work the Mandarin language, which changed Youguang’s fate and saved his life from imprisonment. Despite the conscription, Zhou Youguang mainted his work with language and writing was amateur at best; this was sloughed aside as he was told “Everyone is an amateur.” Yet from there Zhou Youguang would become instrumental in the redevelopment of Mandarin and how it is relayed both in script and in verbal capacity. The entire Pinyin system took three years to create.

Despite this marvelous achievement, Zhou Youguang was not immune to political upheavel, specifically speaking The Cultural Revolution. Mao Zedong would define Zhou Youguang as a reactionary academic, and he was sentenced to a labour camp where he would work the rice fields in northern China. He would spend two years in that agricultural hell of re-education, before returning to his home. Upon returning though, it was back to work for Youguang, as he would continue to write; and in his lifetime he would write forty books, and even help oversee the translation of the Encyclopedia Britannica into Mandarin. Despite these monumental accomplishments, many of Zhou Youguang are banned in China, and he remains cultural insignificant officially in China, and has been left unknown and obscure.

Rest in Peace Zhou Youguang.

Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader

Take Care

And As Always

Stay Well Read

M. Mary 

Murakami News

Hello Gentle Reader,

On a recent google search streak of Haruki Murakami, the writer appeared three different times in the news. For a large part for great positive announcements; while another in a more apathetic if albeit humorous tone. The reasons for the recent Murakami searches are simply personal predilections on my part; though I will say, they came around during a recent discussion of the compare and contrast debate of Haruki Murakami and his senior Kenzaburo Oe. There has not been much love lost between Haruki Murakami and Kenzaburo Oe, who has been a vocal critic about the decline of Japanese literature, which he stated has become too: ‘Murakami Centered.’ Though this is not a vocal criticism against Murakami, it is safe to presume that the two writes differ greatly in their perspective of Japanese literature, and its future. For example, Kenzaburo Oe, is quite a difficult writer to translate. His work is intricate and deeply Japanese, and apparently is even quite difficult to understand or comprehend in the native language. In this sense, Kenzaburo Oe, would best be considered a ‘modernist,’ writer—though quite removed from his own predecessors: Yasunari Kawabata and Yukio Mishima. Oe in fact had a complicated relationship with Mishima. Still Kenzaburo Oe is noted for his deeply introspective novels, in which hope and despair equally black each other out. Yet, because of his continual experimentation with style and form, Kenzaburo Oe is considered a intellectual writer (not an insult) and highly inaccessible; in which he has few readers. On the contrary, Haruki Murakami is a publishing pop star of Japan’s literary community. He openly has used pop culture motifs in his work, and has made no qualm about distancing himself away from the traditional literary aspect of Japanese culture and his rich literary history. Murakami is noted for being easily translatable into other languages – as he has quite a readership in the English language; this cannot be denied as part of the Murakami appeal for his publishers both in Japan and abroad, as he is exotic enough to attract curious readers, but familiar enough he won’t alienate any readers of an alien language. With Murakami one can expect aimless narrator, cats, disappearing women, jazz and spaghetti. Of the two writers though, Murakami is the most accessible by his themes, but also because of his highly influenced westernized literary motifs. In this sense Haruki Murakami is the ‘post-modernist,’ shadow to his successors like Kenzaburo Oe; in which he discusses the globalized suburbia of Japan today, where you can have sushi and spaghetti. On a personal note, neither Kenzaburo Oe nor Haruki Murakami, are all that appealing to me as writers. I find Kenzaburo Oe: slow, repetitious, recyclable, intensely personal, and highly inaccessible. Despite attempting to read: “Somersault,” over ten years ago, and giving up, it still has left a nasty taste in my mouth. Whereas Haruki Murakami is light and accessible, his later oeuvre appears to be a rehash and an attempt to continue to support he received from his earlier novels. In this sense, on novel summarizes them all. His work is too similar with itself that it becomes self-absorbed, and one can see the perspective of easily marketable criticism is not without justifications.

Yet Haruki Murakami’s international appeal continues to hold strong.

[ I ]  

Haruki Murakami recently won The Hans Christian Andersen Award for 2016. Previous winners include: Salman Rushdie, J. K. Rowling and Paulo Coelho. The adjudicators for the award, praised Haruki Murakami’s imaginative prose and his global perspective, in which is narrative work is in a similar succession of Hans Christian Anderson. In winning the award Murakami will receive $500,000 Danish Krone (DKK) or roughly: $72, 000 dollars (American), along with a statue and a diploma.

[ II ]

Haruki Murakami’s influence is contained strictly in the literary world. His influence has now extended into inspiration for television, music and now video games. “Memoranda,” is described a ‘surreal adventure,’ video game. A independent developed and published point and click video game. The lead developer Sahand Saedi is noted to have kept a stack of Murakami books next to his bedside, and when encountered blocks and challenges in in the games aspects, be it a puzzle or the story; he would pick up a book from his bedside table and read a random passage, to seek inspiration. ‘Memoranda,’ itself centres around a young woman who has lost her memory in a European inspired town, she uses sticky notes (hence the title Memoranda) to remind herself about important aspects. Now the video games story itself evokes no specific Murakami novel or story; but it does seek to evoke a similar feeling of disquiet. As Sahand Saedi explains [ from ‘The Verge,’]

‘“Most of the short stories by Murakami happen in a very calm and realistic setting and the introduction of a strange and unexpected character or a small event will break the atmosphere and change everything. Suspense and fright are very clear elements that have been ingrained in my mind while reading Murakami’s stories,” Saedi explains. “These feelings, and also Murakami’s knowledge about music and many aspects of technology, made me think that a videogame can be made by combining them.”’

‘Memoranda,’ is expected to be released on January 25^th. The developers of the game hope that it will entice both fans of Murakami to play, but also people who enjoy a good adventure story to also play the game as well.

Though I rarely play video games myself, the setting, art style, and even the story appear unique and interesting. For those who enjoy independent video games, a good story, and beautiful art work, it appears that ‘Memoranda,’ will most certainly deliver.

[ III ]

Toronto is famous for many aspects: its metropolitan quality; the CN tower, being the rival of both Montreal and Vancouver, a crack smoking mayor – and in many aspects of Canada, for being called ‘the centre of the universe.’ Now though, Toronto is in the paper for a humorous story involving Haruki Murakami. As a recent article with CBC (Canadian Broadcast Corporation) pointed out: ‘Japanese author Haruki Murakami may be known worldwide for novels that straddle the border between the dreamworld and reality.’ But in Toronto, the famous Japanese author is known more for disappearing from bookshelves, and ending up on the black book market, and then he is for his dreamlike and surreal novels and stories, with disappearing women, men who eat cat hearts, and leeches that rain from the sky. The article states that Murakami is the new Kerouac with how his books will disappear and end up in the dark shady black market of contraband books. Though as the owner of the bookstore states, the thieves themselves most likely have never even cracked open a Murakami novel. The reason though Haruki Murakami may have such great appeal towards sticky fingered bookworms, is the high readership amongst millennials. Despite the slight satirical hilarity of the books going missing, the issue still persists, book store owners, who operate independent chains who are competing against larger ‘brands,’ and amazon, are starting to feel the pinch. Unfortunately, the police (and I quote the article) are not cracking down on book thieves. Put into perspective though, it’s not always appropriate to call out the Mountie’s for everything . . . horses  may not need gas (and therefore environmentally friendly), they are terrible in traffic. Perhaps though the recent hike in Murakami’s books being stolen and fenced is due to the fact his newest novel is set to be released in Japan in February. Not much is known about the new novel, other than its title: “Kishidancho Goroshi,” or in English (roughly) “Murder of the Knight Commander.” Murakami has only commented on the novel, that the story is very strange.

[ IV ]

Whether one loves Haruki Murakami or views him as a postmodern pop cultural hack, there can be no denying his influence as a writer extends wide to music, video games, pop culture, other writers and other novels who may follow the Murakami formula. He maybe a poster child of publishing success both at home and abroad, and a voice of a listless and generation of people who view they are now stuck in a globalized world of interconnectivity with no meaningful relationship to discerned or discovered; yet he is still admired, loved and appreciated by all. My own opinion of Murakami is indifference at the end of the day. His continual speculation to win the Nobel Prize for Literature, is not something that I support, nor do I think he possess the quality or perspective to deserve the award. Then again others have received the award, despite—in my opinion; not deserving it either. It’s a strange world, and perhaps Murakami understands this better than he is given credit for.

Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader

Take Care

And As Always

Stay Well Read

M. Mary

The following links are refrenced to the news above:

Hans Christian Andersen Award –

http://andersen-award.com/WP/en/haruki-murakami/

Memoranda Video Game –

http://www.theverge.com/2017/1/11/14229294/memoranda-game-haruki-murakami

Murakami’s books being stolen – Original CBC article and a article from The Guardian –

http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/toronto/haruki-murakami-toronto-theft-used-books-used-book-store-1.3923235

https://www.theguardian.com/books/booksblog/2017/jan/09/stolen-books-canadian-thieves-outclass-british-murakami

Ricardo Piglia, Dies Aged 75

Hello Gentle Reader,

On January 6^th, Ricardo Piglia had died, at the age of 75; Piglia had been diagnosed with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (a progressive neurodegenerative disease) in two-thousand and thirteen.

Ricardo Piglia has been one of the most important writers of Argentinan literature for the past fifty years. He was considered a post-boom writer, as his fiction moves away from the rural and mystical landscapes set out by the boom generation, instead Piglia would focus on the postmodernist paranoid fragmentation of society and how its chaotic bombardments assaulted the everyday life of its citizens. His literary career stared in nineteen-sixty seven when he published his first short story collection: “The Invasion,” (La Invasión) this would be followed by three more short story collections and five novels, along with numerous essays and critical analysis. Beyond his writing career though, Piglia is known to have lived in the United States of America, as well as taught Latin American Literature at the University of Princeton; but in two-thousand and eleven would return to Argentina. Ricardo Piglia was often mentioned as a contender for the Nobel Prize for Literature, as a great representative of the post-boom generation of writers; but yet much like Antonio Tabucchi (often considered Italo Calvino’s successor), Ricardo Piglia would not receive the award; much like his fellow countryman: Jorge Luis Borges.

Rest in Peace, Ricardo Piglia.

Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader

Take Care

And As Always

Stay Well Read

M. Mary 

The Nobel Prize: 1966 Nominations

Hello Gentle Reader,            

The nominations for the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1966 have now been released after being kept secret for fifty years. The Nobel Prize for Literature in 1966 was a unique award as it was shared between two writers: Nelly Sachs and Shmuel Yosef Agnon. Throughout the prizes history, there have only been four occasions where the award had joint recipients: 1904, 1917, 1966, and 1974. In 1965 there was consideration about a joint award between: Mikhail Sholokhov and Anna Akhmatova; but Anders Österling shot down the proposition; claiming that the only characteristics the two writers shared were language; and so Mikhail Sholokhov was the single recipient of the award, while Anna Akhmatova would die March fifth of the following year.

In 1966, the Nobel Committee for the Nobel Prize for Literature had proposed the years laureate should be the Japanese writer: Yasunari Kawabata; but the Swedish Academy however over turned this proposal, and sought other candidates for the years prize. Yasunari Kawabata did receive and  deserved recognition, but would have to wait until 1968.. After rejecting the proposal, the Swedish Academy would now have to discuss, debate and decide the years laureate. The shortlist for the year was as follows:

1.      Yasunari Kawabata

2.      Nelly Sachs/Shmuel Yosef Agnon

3.      Graham Greene

4.      W.H. Auden

5.      Samuel Beckett

The above list was presented by the Nobel Committee Chairman: Anders Österling. Of the list, four writers would go on to receive the Nobel Prize for Literature. Nelly Sachs and Shmuel Yosef Agnon, would share the Nobel in 1966; Yasunari Kawabata would go on to achieve laureate status in 1968; and Samuel Beckett would take the award in 1969. Concerning Samuel Beckett, it has been noted that Anders Österling had reservations about Beckett’s ability to represent the award. Österling felt Beckett’s work were bottomless and nihilistic in their depiction and discussion of human nature, and therefore, not truly holding the ideal quality of the Nobel, with regards to the Literature prize’s ideal mandate.

Nelly Sachs, however, had quite a bit of support from the Swedish Academy, with both: Karl Ragnar Gierow and Erik Lindegren. Both members had previously expressed strong support for the poet. Anders Österling though showed slight hesitation towards the poet. In 1965, when Sachs was once again a forerunner for the award, Österling voiced concern for the choice. He believed her poetry was beautiful and should be highly valued, but was it of any higher class than any other German poet? With this mind Österling stated: “Even before Nelly Sachs, I feel finally the same question, whether her poetry—humanly touching in itself—can alone defend a Nobel Prize.” As a influential member of the Academy, Anders Österling’s words were taken very seriously. But with the assistance of Karl Ragnar Gierow (who first nominated Sachs in 1963), along with Erik Lindegren and Gunnar Ekelöf (who she had helped translate into German), Sachs would have the support needed to be taken seriously.

In 1966, Nelly Sachs was taken very seriously as a contender for the Nobel Prize for Literature. Henry Olsson had proposed a dual award to both Nelly Sachs and Paul Celan. The Nobel Committee rejected the notion. Its reasoning: “Sharing the award seeks to distinguish two individually significant efforts in the German lyric poetry. Regarding Celan, the Committee has not, however, able to convince itself that his work would justify the investment.”

With regards to Nelly Sachs and Paul Celan; the two poets were quite close, and their poetry is a great representation of the German language, but also the grief of the Jewish people. A shared award between Nelly Sachs and Paul Celan would have a greater sense of meaning, then the reality of Sachs sharing the prize with Shmuel Yosef Agnon. In fact, Nelly Sachs and Paul Celan, had shared a deep connection with each other, which is expressed in their sixteen year correspondence. Celan had first written to Sachs after reading her poem, ‘Chorus of the Orphans.’ Much like Nelly Sachs had done earlier by writing to Selma Lagerlöf (who would later help Sachs and her mother flee Germany and settle in Sweden), a new and bright friendship had begun to emerge and take hold, with Sachs even referring to Celan as ‘brother,’ and Celan documenting their friendship in his poem, ‘Zürich, The Stork Inn,’ (Zürich, Zum Storchen). Both Nelly Sachs and Paul Celan found kindred spirits with each other and their respective work. During the beginning of their correspondence, Celan was accused of plagiarism by a friend’s widow, and Sachs was embroiled in a dispute with the Finnish-Jewish composer Moses Pergament over a musical adaption of her stage play: Eli: A Mystery Play of the Sufferings of Israel.

Paul Celan would never go on to receive the Nobel. He was first nominated in 1964, but was declined as he did not “meet the claims of a high international award,”—which now in hindsight was a poor mistake for the Academy to make; as Paul Celan is now considered of the greatest poets of the 20^th century German language. Where now on the contrary of the two writers who shared the award in 1966, Shmuel Yosef Agnon has fallen into relative obscurity; and Nelly Sachs now clings to the shore, while the river of oblivion tugs her into the historical realm of the vague and the forgotten. Perhaps, if the award was shared between Nelly Sachs and her literary soulmate and brother, Paul Celan, she would be better known.

Before receiving the award in 1966, Nelly Sachs had fled Nazi Germany, with the assistance of Selma Lagerlöf, and it was there in Sweden, that Nelly Sachs would move away from her youthful naïve and romantic poems, and would become the fragile bird like women with powerful words. In 1947 she made her ‘second debut,’ with the poetry collection: “In den Wohnungen des Todes,” (“In the Dwellings of Death). After this, Sachs would write continually about the Jewish suffering; the complex relationship of the Jewish people with history and God; and it was then she would begin to attract greater attention in Sweden as a remarkable poet, who composed and conducted the chorus of historical suffering. During this time though, Sachs would also translate the works of many Swedish writers into German such as Ekelöf Thoursie, Gunnar Ekelöf, and Erik Lindegren. By the time the Nobel announcement came around, Sachs would be well known in the Swedish literary scene, and her award came to no surprise. What did though was the fact that it was shared with Shmuel Yosef Agnon.

Shmuel Yosef Agnon is a writer who is known more in niche and select literary groups. When he was awarded the Nobel in 1966, he became famous over night; but just as quick as the flame of fame had caught fire, it was extinguished. As already noted Agnon has all but fallen into relative obscurity, and his work is considered alienating for those not acquainted with Jewish history or culture. This would therefore making Shmuel Yosef Agnon a rather ‘extreme provincial,’ writer; and certainly brings to mind questions of his merit for such a: ‘high international award,’ which Paul Celan was denied. It was of course Anders Österling who was the most adamant of Agnon’s merits and requirement for recognition. Yet this was not the first time Shmuel Yosef Agnon was first nominated. In 1947 Agnon was proposed as a candidate by Professor Hugo Bergmann from the University of Jerusalem. The reception from the Nobel committee was at best, lukewarm. The Committee of the time saw Agnon as being too provincial, and incapable in his literary output to appeal to the greater public. The sentiment did not change, as in 1949, Agnon was once again dismissed. In 1965 though, his fortunes were beginning to change. Anders Österling had resigned from his position as the Permanent Secretary of the Swedish Academy, but maintained his position as the Chairman of the Nobel Committee; and in this year, he had German translations of Shmuel Yosef Agnon’s work, and became quite impressed with the writers work. Österling lobbied a great sense of encouragement Agnon’s work, stating he was Israel’s finest language artists at work. 1965 Mikhail Sholokhov would take the award; but Shmuel Yosef Agnon was second on the shortlist. This change in perspective came only after Agnon’s work had been translated into languages for the Academy to read and understand, only then did Agnon’s fortunes change, from the rejected nomination to the winner.

Yet now, Shmuel Yosef Agnon is readily ignored or left unknown to readers. His work as already stated is extremely provincial and culturally alienating to those unacquainted with Jewish history and culture. Future Nobel Laureate Isaac Bashevis Singer, had described Agnon as a good writer, by no means a genius, but a good solid writer; though his work would be lost in translation, as the varying depths of the work were to be seen only via the Hebrew language.

In choosing to award the two writers the Nobel Prize for Literature, Österling defended the decision by stating the award had complied: “two authors from different language regions, but united by a spiritual affinity carrying out Israel's message in contemporary literature.” Though there was no denying Österling had felt and viewed Agnon as far superior quality to Sachs. History however has judged differently.

1966, would be the second last time the Nobel Prize for Literature would be jointly awarded. The last time the award was shared was eight years later in 1974, to two Swedish Academy members: Evyind Johnson and Harry Martinson.

1966, would also be the first time Günter Grass was nominated, but it would take another 33 years for him to receive the Nobel Prize for Literature.

In the end Gentle Reader, 1966 saw the award go to Nelly Sachs a poet, who conducted and gave voice to the chorus of the holocaust and the 20^th century tragedy; while Shmuel Yosef Agnon was praised for his unique use of the Hebrew language, but this linguistic dependency will alienate readers who have no prior knowledge of the Jewish culture. In the end, Nelly Sachs was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature with the citation: “for her outstanding lyrical and dramatic writing, which interprets Israel's destiny with touching strength.” Shmuel Yosef Agnon received the following citation for his award: “for his profoundly characteristic narrative art with motifs from the life of the Jewish people.”

The joint award was fine on its simplistic level that the two writers shared a common discussion of the suffering of human and Jewish tragedy; but their similarities end there. A joint award between Nelly Sachs and Paul Celan would have most certainly been more memorable; as the two were poetic soulmates, in which they wrote beautiful lyrical German poetry which discussed the tragedies of the early 20^th century. But Paul Celan would commit suicide in 1970, and the day of his burial Nelly Sachs would died in Stockholm at the age of 79. Shmuel Yosef Agnon has since faded from common memory and readership with the grander public; retaining most of his readership within his niche circle and area; but beyond the Hebrew language he has fallen into obscurity. On this, sometimes the Nobel gets it right, and other times it does not. 1966 would at best be an example of compromise between the factions within the Swedish Academy; where a large proponent of the members were forward in their proposal of Nelly Sachs taking the prize.  Yet Anders Österling felt Sachs was incapable of defending the choice merely on her own, and was able to nominate a joint award of two writes; while advocating his own personal preference: Shmuel Yosef Agnon. In the end two writers received the award because of their common heritage and spiritual experience and inclinations.

1966 would also mark a time when Swedish Academy rejected the list presented by the Nobel Committee, in which the top contender for the year: Yasunari Kawabata, did not receive the award.

Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader

Take Care

And As Always

Stay Well Read

M. Mary

Please Note Gentle Reader, the information for this blog was gathered from the Swedish newspaper: Svenska Dagbladet. Quotes from the article were modified to offer greater clarity in the English language. 

For the original articles please see the following links -- 

The Article below discusses Nelly Sachs win: 

Svd: "Svenska Akademien körde över Nobelkommittén,"

The following article discusses Shmuel Yosef Agnon:

Svd: "Agnon – en otidsenligt tidlös författare,"

For furhter informaton on the writers nominated for the year please check out: "World Literature Forum," for a unique and intelligent conversation: 

World Literature Forum: "Nobel Prize: 1966,"