Ning Feng and Paganini's 'Cannone'

by Hong Jiang (translated from Chinese by Xujun Eberlein)

(Hong Jiang is my townsfolk from Chongqing, China. Our friendship began many years ago as undergraduates in Chongqing University. She now works as a database administrator in one world, and the chairwoman of Yan-Huang Performing Arts in another. – Xujun)

 

I first heard Ning Feng's name from Hu Kun, professor of the Royal Academy of Music in London and my husband's childhood buddy. It was 2003, and I was organizing the "Concertos for Piano, Violin, Erhu and Pipa." I invited Hu Kun to perform a violin concerto. He was unable to make it, so he recommended his newly graduated student Ning Feng. I hesitated. The players I recruited for the concert were all world-level musicians, but Ning Feng was an unheard-of name.

As if guessing my thought, Hu Kun said, "Don't worry. I promise Ning Feng will make your concert a success." He even mailed me the congratulatory letter from the Academy's president when Ning Feng became the first in 200 years to receive full-score for his graduation concert.

 

Thus 21-year-old Ning Feng came to Boston. A fellow Sichuanese, his lovely honest face looked artless. If you ran into him on the street, you wouldn't have connected his image to a world-level artist. However, when he stood at ease on the ornate stage of Jordan Hall, intoxicant in his own playing of Jean Sibelius' "Violin concerto in D minor," his rakish manner and artistic excellence thoroughly conquered the entire audience. The nearly 40-minute long violin piece was played in one perfect breath. The excited audience applauded and shouted "Encore! Encore!" Ning Feng had to return to the stage three times. Afterward, several people said to me, "He was too good! My hands are red from clapping so hard."

From Ning Feng's bio I learned that he had already won a dozen awards in international competitions. I asked him why he hadn't been in the Paganini Competition. He said, "I will."

True to his words, the next year, in 2004, Ning Feng applied for the Paganini Competition and was accepted. A week before he was to set off for Italy, however, he contracted a bad flu and tonsillitis. His high fever lasted for days, and he was forced to cancel the journey. A few weeks later, the competition result revealed: the first prize was vacant.

As if waiting for him, beginning that year, the competition was changed from annual to bi-annual.

In September 2006, 55 young violinists from all over the world traveled to Genova, Italy for the 51th Paganini Competition. Upon his arrival, Ning Feng's luggage and stage-costume were lost, and he had to wear jeans on stage. After a week of fierce contention in the preliminaries and semi-finals, Ning Feng found himself entering the final match with five other violinists. Besides a required Paganini piece, he chose a difficult Brahms' violin concerto. This is a piece of non-sentimental, profound music, thus one that is hard to please a jury with. The choice was a display of unusual confidence. Was he over-confident?

Ning Feng would later write in a blog article titled "Dream":

As a child I owned a hand-copied violin score, on its cover a hand-written title "24 Capriccios of Paganini." I thought then, "Perhaps one day I will be playing them on a stage."

In middle school, I once bought a CD, with it came a photo of Paganini's own violin "Cannone." I thought then, "Perhaps one day I will be holding 'Cannone' and hearing its sounds from my own hands?"

On October 1, 2006, in Genova, Italy, at the award ceremony of the 51th International Violin Competition, Ning Feng heard his name read three times by the chairman of the jury, who spoke only Italian. Ning Feng went on the stage three times to receive the medals, but he did not understand a single Italian word other than his name, and did not know what the awards were for. At last, he could not help but asking an English-speaking juror standing behind him:

"Who got the first place?"

The juror looked at him suspiciously, as if to decide whether he was pretending, before saying, "Why, it is you."

To Ning Feng, the highest award was that, as the first place winner he was given the honor of playing Paganini's violin, the 1743 Guarneri del Gesù 'Cannone.'

(Ning Feng, together with Chen Xi, will be performing violin in Boston on Saturday, March 22, 2008, as well as in New Brunswick, NJ, on Saturday April 12 2008. Details and tickets on www.yhpa.org. )

At the Boston Flower Show

Yesterday, my husband and I went to the Spring Flower Show at Boston's Bayside Expo Center. The walls separate a blooming spring from icy winter outside. After attending a talk "Introduction to Garden Water Features," we spent hours perusing exhibits. We studied several landscape showcases, and lingered in front of many intricate flower arrangements. For the latter I want to share with you a few of my favorites (you can click the photos to enlarge).

1. (left) Ikebana, the Japanese art of flower arrangement, is distinguished by its asymmetric form and use of empty space as an essential feature.

2. (right) Joyce Girvin, Hollistin GC/Sedona Area GC, Second Award

Judge comments: "A true tornado. Visual weight at the top affects the balance."

3. (left) Linda Clarke, Ikenobo School. Plant materials: Forsythia, Spray roses

4. (below) Cathy Walsh, Independent, First Award

Judge comments: "Skillful handling of pristine plant material creates a walk through the Fens."

'Lust, Caution' (色戒) ,Tony Leung, and Eileen Chang

I missed Ang Lee's Lust, Caution in the local theaters. Before finally watching the newly released DVD at home last weekend, I had already heard much about it. Even though I avoided reading reviews, words came into my ear from unavoidable friends. No surprise would have been left, or so I thought.

When the movie finished, I found myself in an upset state. I stayed up late trying to figure out what was so disturbing. It isn't the sex scenes that everyone is talking about; those scenes probably affect men more than women. It is the execution, or more precisely, the unshown, therefore seemly unfinished, execution of the students that include Mrs. Mak (Tang Wei). My unwriterly refusal to "see" the fact lingered until well after: isn't he going to spare her life, as she did his?

The rational and realistic answer, of course, is "no." We Chinese have a ready adage for this – "not cruel, not man," not to mention that issuing execution orders is part of Mr. Yee's profession. The question then is why I should be so shocked.

It is Tony Leung's melancholic eyes.

That night I searched on the internet and found Eileen Chang's original story in Chinese, in which the reputed 1940s author wrote the key reversal moment (my translation):

His smile at the moment is without the slightest irony, only a bit of sadness. His silhouette from the table lamp, his eyes cast down, eyelashes like rice-colored moth wings, resting on his lean face, and she sees tenderness and compassion in his look.

This man is really in love with me, she suddenly thinks. A bang on her heart, something lost.

Too late.

The store owner hands him the receipt. He slides it in his pocket.

"Go, quick," she says in a low voice.

Nothing could have reproduced those subtle words of Eileen Chang's like Tony Leung's melancholic eyes. The incongruity of Mr.Yee's inside and outside is a source of shock. The man is capable of being poetic and cruel at the same time, and true to both, while the woman, in an inexplicable and critical moment, chooses to see only the former but not the latter. The very source of tragic consequence.

Interestingly, the story is only an artful and symbolic rendition of Eileen Chang's real love life. An extremely happening writer in 1940s China, whose legendary life later ended with loneliness in 1995 Los Angeles, Eileen Chang's most-talked-about love was with Hu Lancheng. She was 24, and Hu was a 38-year-old married man. Like the story, he worked for the Japanese occupiers and thus was a "traitor to the Chinese." That did not matter to Chang. She was in love with the man, not his job. Unlike the story, their separation later was not due to political stance, but the man's infidelity. Yet his silhouette stayed with her for a long time.

Chang wrote "Lust, Caution" in 1950's Shanghai, not long before she fled China for fear of political persecution. There might have been a personal reason for the story's ending of Mr. Yee's betrayal and Mrs. Mak's destruction.

Though there are many modifications by Ang Lee of the namesake story, for example Chang pens no explicit sex scenes or violence, Ang Lee at least is loyal to Chang's original ending. The undisplayed execution has a deep impact on audience psychology. As long as we haven't heard the gun shots, our hallucination of humanity is kept alive. The longer the hallucination lasts, the harder the blow when it disintegrates.

The Bufflo News Report on 'Radical Gratitude'

"In the mud hut they called home, the 5-year-old boy watched as his grandfather lay dying on a bed of straw. It wasn’t the harsh Siberian cold or the meager rations that were killing the old man, though they might have. It was, instead, that he decided to starve himself.

It was the winter of 1940, and Vladislav Paluchowski, a man of quiet strength, had been hungry for weeks, along with his wife, daughter and two grandsons. He did the only thing he could: He decided to die so the others might share a few more scraps of food."

So begins the The Bufflo News report on Radical Gratitude, a nonfiction book co-authored by Andrew Bienkowski and Mary Akers. I so look forward to reading the book!

Continue to read the report here.

An Innovative Interview

Steve Prosapio, a novelist, interviews another novelist on his No Bull website today. What struck me as a fascinating idea is the concept of a "virtual meeting." The interview begins with eye-catching photos of the "meeting" place and a bit of its history. If – I'm being fussy here – the chosen place were somehow connected to the novel being discussed, the effect would be even greater!

The novel they discussed is Geoffrey Edwards' Fire Bell in the Night, a Civil War story that won the Gather.com First Chapters contest. The questions involve both the process of writing and the content of the book. Check out the interview here.

"The Camphor Suitcase" Second in Essay Contest

My personal essay, "The Camphor Suitcase," won second prize in Literal Latte's Essay Awards. The top three winners will receive $1000, $300, and $200 respectively, and be published on-line when Literal Latte finishes redesigning its website in a few weeks.

A 10-year-old innovative magazine with a big literary presence and highly reputed contests, Literal Latte used to be a newsprint publication available for free in every independent coffeehouse in NYC. Now it has moved to completely on-line, complemented with annual print anthologies. With Starbucks taking over everywhere and the consequent disappearance of independent coffee houses, such a move is welcome. I heard rumors that the new face of Literal Latte's website will be exciting, and I look forward to seeing it.

Also on Literal and Literary Truth

by Larry Mongoss, guest blogger

Did you read the story in the New York Times – “National Enquirer Article a Fabrication?” I can’t remember what the article being referred to was about, something to do with the founding of Rome I think. Still, I was astonished that a nationally distributed periodical would knowingly publish something containing falsehoods.

After that, when I read the story about Misha Defonseca admitting that her book, Misha: A Memoire of the Holocaust Years, was made up I was not nearly as surprised as everyone else seems to have been. I have not had a chance to read the book but in it four year old Misha’s parents are taken to a concentration camp by the Nazis and she wanders for several years in the woods until she is adopted by a pack of wolves.

OK, I guess I can understand that the temptation to believe a story like that. A few internet searches do turn up modern day Moglis. From the girl found in Cambodia after, some claim, 10 years in the jungle to a boy raised by dogs in Russia, these stories appear often (there is actually a website devoted to such children). Unlike Mogli or Tarzan though, these people do not present as well adjusted mentally healthy individuals. They are, in fact, stunted and traumatized to the point where most can never function as a member of society.

Anyone with even a little bit of common sense reading Defonseca’s book must have known it was not literal truth; the question then is whether it is literary truth. In this case the real source of distrust probably arises from the fact that her parents were not taken to a concentration camp, but underground movement members caught and executed. Does that discredit every, or most, insights into the human condition that one can get reading the book?

When James Frey’s book went through a similar turn I read it with just that question in mind. The book fascinated me, not so much because of the rich, and fabricated, storyline, but more because of the disdain it showed for the AA five step program. I have always been struck by what I perceived as a lack of dissent on that program. Frey’s book provides that dissent, but is it legitimate?

The whole question of literal and literary truth has been, and continues to be, heavily debated among writers. An article in the November issue of Harper's, “A Lie that Tells the Truth” by Joel Agee, looks at this, concluding that some license is reasonable. When you approach this question from the perspective of the reader, however, different issues are at play. First, and foremost, everybody lies. Be it a memoir, a textbook or a newspaper article expecting the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth seems pretty naive.

Thus the question of legitimacy is not one for Frey, or Defonseca, or really any writer to answer, it is for the reader to decide. Literary, and most human, truths have to depend on a preponderance of evidence. In short that means you have to read more than one thing. If anyone ever tells you there is only one book you need to read on a topic, run the other way and read none, or plenty. A great writer should be loved, but never trusted. #

Related posts:

Disagreeing with Smart People
Decreasing Readership among the Corn-Fed

Disagreeing with Smart People

by Larry Mongoss, guest blogger

Charlie Rose, as he is wont to, did a retrospective on William F. Buckley Wednesday night, running together conversations from the many interviews he had done with him over the years. The show, and the passing of Buckley, made me reflect on my own dilemma: How do I think about people who are both brilliant and insightful while at the same time embracing ideals that seem to be an affront on common sense.

Listening to Buckley talk is an absolute delight, but thinking of him as the intellectual father of modern American Conservatism is frightening, made ever so much more so because he, apparently, was proud to be seen that way.

The more urgent dilemma, however, may be why there is a dilemma at all. When stupid people say stupid things it does not bother me. I shrug it off as a curiosity or, if I am feeling particularly empathetic, try to understand how they might have arrived at those views. But when smart people say stupid things it bothers me. Instead of trying to understand how they arrived at their views, I try to understand what mistake they made in arriving at their views.

That intolerance is more than a product of getting grumpy and set in my ways. Public discourse, especially political public discourse, more and more looks for a one dimensional rating system. When Hillary Clinton claimed that Barack Obama was to the right of George Bush because he did not support freezing interest rates on subprime ARMs, I was astonished. I just can’t fathom in what sense picking a position on the best way to deal with foreclosures is a left-right choice, I would have hoped there would have been some talk of effective versus ineffective.

In the face of this one dimensional worldview, I think it is more important than ever to listen to the people you disagree with, especially when they are talking about the things you disagree about. It is true that some disagreements are big enough that all the understanding in the world won’t change anything. But there are lots of disagreements that are not like that and by listening more thoughtfully, we might get closer to the truth. If in doing this we end up needing seven dimensions by which to identify ourselves so be it.

So thank you Mr. Buckley for everything you have said that I disagree with. Perhaps it is time for me to read more of your 55 books.

Our Ancient Watchman

A very long driveway, I thought as we drove in to look at a suburban house. We had seen so many, but this one looked promising from the outside except for the ugly green utility box in front. Inside was much nicer than any place we had seen and, to my delight, there was lots of land for gardening.

In the end, we did buy the house. But the first time I commuted back from work, I was greeted by the ugly green box. Why the developer placed an eye-sore at the most conspicuous spot in front of a nice house, it was beyond my logic.

“You will get used to it,” my husband, Bob, said, “it’s just something that needs to be there.” A typical male attitude: ugliness overlooked and beauty taken for granted. I kept telling him we should do something about it, and he kept saying that it belonged to NStar Electric and we couldn’t put anything on it.

Then one day, I saw a small sculpture of a man dressed in Qing Dynasty clothing sitting and pondering in a garden catalog. That is it, I told Bob. “Only $89, okay let’s try it,” he said. Apparently it was about price all along.

Our Chinese Man came, and was put on top. A wonderful difference. When friends came to visit, they praised, "Where'd you find such a nice stand for your sculpture?" The ugly utility box, as intact as it can be, magically disappeared from everyone's eyes.

However every time I walked by I had to move our Chinese man. The wind would always make him face a different direction. Bob said that he was looking around to see the world, but I didn’t really like the directions he chose. One windy night he blew off altogether and I found him in the morning on the ground, broken to two halves at his middle. Almost in tears, I asked Bob what to do. “No problem,” he replied, “I will fill him up with sand and glue him back together.”

So that's what Bob did, turning a bad situation into a good one. The heavier man was now able to hold his position in any weather. He outlasted his original stand, which had started leaking oil, and happily sits on the new one. He is slowly turning green with moss, but remains as happy and unperturbed as ever. In the snow he even gets to wear an extra hat.

Another Kind of Movie Reviewer

On January 17th, a review of Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles, was posted on the LanceReviews website. That review received over 1,000 hits in a single day from virtually every corner of the globe.

It is remarkable given that this website is only seven months old, and is one man's labor out of love for good movies and anguish over bad ones. In July 2007, Lance Berry launched his movie review site, on which he posts a new review every couple of days. He does not get paid doing this, and he does not run ads on his site; what he gets is the fun of reviewing and venting, plus an unexpectedly large readership.

Once a film critic/columnist for Latest Issue Entertainment, Lance Berry started his own site dedicated specifically to movie/TV/entertainment reviews, because he has a passion for film and believes that good movies should be praised and recognized, while bad films should be "drop-kicked to the furthest nether regions of hell whenever possible." The LanceReviews site receives daily hits from around the world, including places such as Japan, Russia, Australia, and the UK, in addition to the United States.

Lance is not your average movie reviewer who has to please some special-interest audiences, including the movie industry. He reviews things exactly as he sees them, which makes him a reviewer for the average person, rather an irony that "average" has such divergent meanings. And, unlike many reviewers trying hard to be entertaining for the sake of entertainment, Lance strives to be informative. That, I think, actually makes his reviews more entertaining than most.

And he is humorous and insightful. His headline on Vantage Point is “Disadvantage Point: New espionage thriller plays like another familiar film...but with half the charm.” For Jumper it is “Clunker: anywhere is possible. Teleportation flick goes nowhere fast.” Of course, not every movie is a dud. For The Spiderwick Chronicles, Lance says “Magically Enthralling: Spiderwick spins a web that ensnares its viewer...and doesn't let go!”

As you can see from the picture above, which I adapted from his website, Lance has a clever eye for layout, in this case with an ironic twist. He uses the medium of Hollywood presentation, to present Hollywood.

I don’t often go to see movies in theaters, but when I do it seems like about half the time I am disappointed. Lance, who does go to theaters a lot, seems to agree with me. In fact, he had it so strongly that he started reviewing as a way “to vent about bad movies that are foisted on an unsuspecting public.” But this is not venting in vain, not for the people who read his reviews. If you are lucky enough to read his review in advance, you are forearmed – you might instead curl up in bed with a book. If you see the review too late to save the evening, you can turn the disappointing event into a memorable laugh.

Though honest criticism might upset some people, it can also transcend that. After he saw Casino Royale, in which Daniel Crag plays James Bond, Lance posted what he called "the most honest review of Casino Royale you will read," with the headline "A Bond movie that ISN'T a Bond movie." Several people pasted copies of the review on pro-Craig sites, in order to allow bashing. Apparently some of those people still liked Lance's writing enough to come back for more.

After Lance allowed www.danielcraigisnotbond.com, a British-based site, to post his review of Casino Royale, as well as a link to his article on why Christian Bale should be the next Bond, his site began to get a lot of European hits.

I hope Lance's screenplay writing also benefits from his film reviews. Yes, he has been writing scripts seriously for the past 5-7 years. "I write well, I write fast. In the past, I have re-written 120-page screenplays literally overnight," he says, "I am versatile, writing all types of screenplays: drama, horror, science-fiction, etc. I have made several good connections within the industry recently, but I am still waiting for that 'big break'."

It is his intention to eventually produce a science fiction series, based on his screenplay and novels "The Reign".

Michael Wood on Lust, Caution ("色戒")

Michael Wood, London Review of Books' movie reviewer, says:

"Lust, Caution is billed as a film about sex and espionage, lots of both, and occasionally it looks like such a work. All its interesting moments, however, are about something else: style, masquerade, glances, silences. Each character in the movie has a movie running in his or her head, and when a young woman called Wong Chia-chi (played by Tang Wei), about to become a temptress setting up a collaborationist Chinese official for assassination, sits in a cinema and weeps copious tears, we know she will never be able to cry in this way outside the movie house."

Read the rest of the review here.

"Cornerstone" of a Mystery

The Eye of Jade
by Diane Wei Liang
Simon & Schuster, 256 pp., $24.00

(Book Review by Xujun Eberlein)

1.
Diane Wei Liang's female detective protagonist, Mei Wang, is a character built up of conflicts between her mindset and reality. She is aloof, "an outsider who never wanted to be in" while in college, but her college friends turn out to be the only ones who truly care about her. Her longing for her mother's love manifests as resentment, and her mother suddenly has a stroke before there is a chance to reconcile. She desperately wants to cure her mother, but she has no money or connections, and those things can only come from the sister she looks down on. She detests "guanxi" (connecting with purpose) and people who are good at it, yet whatever clues she obtains for her investigation are through "guanxi." Wherever she exhausts her network of relations, her means of investigation also dry up. For the most part the novel leaves the reader wondering if the only way for Mei Wang to make progress in Chinese society is to embrace the opposite of what she values.

Yet this is a quite realistic depiction of the late 1990s' Chinese society, post Cultural Revolution, in the midst of the Reform-and-Open era. And Diane Wei Liang is at her best depicting it using multi-voice dialogue. Here is such a dialogue at a class reunion:

"I'm going to Shenzhen. I've had enough of Beijing and Xinhua News Agency," Sparrow Li declared.

"What?" Fat Boy shouted. "You didn't tell me! You are giving up the Steel Bowl for a private local newspaper? Are you out of your mind?"

"What's so great about Xinhua News Agency? We have no housing, and the pay is lousy. When we graduated, it was all about getting a job with the big ministries. Now it's about money. If you are rich, you are somebody. I'm going to be the chief editor and make a lot of money."

"Don't be naïve." Big Sister Hui popped open a can of Tsing-tao beer. "What's money compared to power? Mei had a beautiful one-bedroom apartment when worked for the Ministry of Public Security. She traveled in official cars and dined in the best restaurants. She wasn't rich, but didn't she live a good life! Look at your chief. He doesn't need to be rich. He gets everything he needs and more from his job."

"I don't need a car. But I would like to have a roof over my head." Fat Boy sighed. "Beijing Daily is much worse than Xinhua News Agency. It doesn't even give me a dorm room. I'm thirty years old and still living with my parents. So I told the matchmakers that I'm only interested in girls whose work units have housing."

This conversation is so real, I can almost see those people's lips moving and hear their voices, as if they spoke in Chinese, as if I were among them.

Dialogue is also an economic means deployed in The Eye of Jade to convey background information of supporting characters. In the example above, with less than a page, we get to know several friends of Mei, even something about Mei herself, without dragging on through long descriptions.

The intimate reflection on everyday life of contemporary China is a good quality of this novel. For a reader who knows about China, this quality is engaging. Too often I can't finish a novel set in China written by non-Chinese, because it turns me off when the author gets obvious things wrong.

For readers who are less familiar with China, The Eye of Jade provides a lens into Chinese society. The author picked a good starting time for the story. Between 1980 and 1997 there were amazing changes that took place, almost as amazing as the changes between 1997 and now. The central case that Mei is investigating takes us back in time: to the origin of the relics she is trying to locate, nearly 2,000 years ago; to the circumstances of its disappearance 30 years ago; and to Mei’s youth 10 years ago. Thus, without a complete recount of history we are given insights into it. One can reasonably predict that, as future cases come for Mei Wang, we will get a chance to see China develops more, and hopefully also to explore more of its past.

That said, there are some holes in the work. For one thing, the Ministry of State Security (analog of the FBI) did not exist until 1983, so some of the retrospective actions during the Cultural Revolution in late 1960s are not completely plausible. Still, compared with some other English fiction on China, the lapses are small.

2.
Ultimately, Mei Wang does not give in to the Chinese societal trap. Toward the end of the novel, Mei's true self, aloof and courageous as she is, does triumph. When her "guanxi" ends, she singular-handedly confronts each hypothesized suspect one by one, alone and determined. And sure enough, each confrontation takes her closer to the entire truth, until the case is solved.

At this point, however, this triumph should be read as the author's fictionalized ideal ending, rather than a depiction of the reality. After all, it is unlikely in reality that any private detective, not to mention a young woman apparently with no training in self-defense and no backup – would go to each (dangerous) suspect and point a finger at him, "You are the murderer, aren't you?" simply to see if he'll admit to it. A detective who relies on this approach wouldn't be the smartest one anyway.

So why does Diane Wei Liang make Mei Wang do this? One can find a partial answer from the author interview by her publisher, in which she explains:

"Guanxi is loosely translated as connections and networks of relations. But it means much more. It is a cornerstone of Chinese culture, as the society is operated according to it – people are introduced, things get done – or not – based on who they know."

Except guanxi is more like extra oil for an age-old societal machine than a cornerstone of Chinese culture. In any case "guanxi" is an external factor; the concept might assist a novelist to move forward a plot, but it can't enhance characterization, nor excite the reader. If Mei's entire investigation "operates according to it," the intricate behavior and actions would be absent. The final confrontations carried out by Mei Wang, therefore, are a last-ditch resolution for both the author and the central character.

3.

This raises a key question: is this novel really a detective story? The answer is both yes and no. It is what the author sets out to make; it is not quite accepted as such by readers.

For detective genre readers, the fun of reading is solving a puzzle with the author. It is the chase of logical inference that is thrilling. In The Eye of Jade, however, this element is largely missing. Sure, Mei Wang confronts the suspects with her hypotheses, but when we see this, the hypotheses are already made. We read the conclusions without being letting in the process of reasoning, and we don't know how she gets there. This thrill is not quite there.

Apparently, the author has a different idea about what this book should be. The Eye of Jade is the first in a series of "Mei Wang Mystery" novels, for which the author has a very interesting and intriguing concept. The interview mentioned above opens with the following Q and A:

Q: Why did you decide to tell your story of modern China through the lens of crime fiction?

A: Because crime fiction brings together different elements of a society and exposes their frustrations, conflicts and desires. I found it an ideal format to examine the social and economical changes that are at the center of modern life in China. I also wanted to paint an honest and authentic picture of life in Beijing. "The Eye of Jade" gave me such an opportunity, allowing me to move among its different neighborhoods and varied social and economical groups, to explore the inner life of that fascinating city.

That is exactly what she does in The Eye of Jade, and quite successfully. The social and economic aspects of life in Beijing are given equal, if not greater, emphasis than Mei Wang's case investigation. A reader who is not looking for a particular genre story could enjoy both threads. To a mystery/crime genre reader, however, the author's stated goals, however admirable and ambitious, do not provide the same thrill as logical inference.

On the other hand, would a romance novel bother its readers for its lack of logic? No. One would have to be bothered by something else. This is to say, the genre label pre-sets reader expectations. It is a double-edged sword. It helps us find the right category for reading pleasure; it can also stop us from being entertained.

Therefore, the author has options. The smart idea of conveying modern China's societal change to English readers through genre fiction (which has a much greater readership than literary fiction) might actually work, if she finds the right genre and executes in it well. If she (or her publisher) chooses to stick with the current label, then she will need to enhance the genre's "cornerstone": logical inference.

What Ruined Willesden Herald Writing Contest

Entering writing contests – with or without fees – have some attractions over standard submissions. One of those, believe or not, is it gives a good writer better odds of actually getting somewhere.

That is one of the reasons that many of us enter writing competitions. Or, if not just the hope of winning, or being recognized, at least to be certain we actually get read, which is not always true in standard submissions. When we pay our entry fees, we expect at least that. We also expect some amount of professionalism and, dare I say it, integrity, in the way the contest is run. Most fee-charging contests meet such expectations. I myself have happily won a few of them, and only once submitted to a contest that was clearly done wrong.

What happens, though, when there is no entry fee? Does that relieve those running the contest of the responsibility to see it through? Curiously, when I ask the question in this stark manner, the answer is obvious. But apparently when it gets to a specific case, things become murkier.

In the recently upended Willesden Herald International Short Story Prize, the £5,000 first prize was given to charity and the promised anthology canceled (details here). In the explanation by the adjudicator, Zadie Smith, she says, among other things: “There is no entry fee, there are no criteria of age, race, gender or nation.” Apparently they were looking for good work, what they found didn’t satisfy her, case closed.

For most the people who submitted to the contest, Zadie Smith is probably right. However, like any major contest, there were other judges who put their heads together to create a short list. This list was not published, but the ten people on it were notified. Looking at the winner as a random draw, that means ten people were told they had a 10% chance at £5,000. Most certainly, looking at the contest descriptions, their work was going to be published in a prestigious anthology. Or so they thought.

Now comes the joy of withdrawing from other contests. Sometimes that is heartrending – Oh God, I would really rather it be published in …, but they probably won’t accept it, or will they? ­– But not in this case (or so I would assume). The promised anthology was a great place to be published so those withdrawal letters were probably pretty jubilant, perhaps with a sneer thrown in, perhaps with a sigh over the fees paid and wasted.

Then Zadie Smith decided that not one of the ten short-listed was good enough, and none of the other judges was willing to contradict "someone of her stature." Well, not surprisingly, those in the top ten were not too happy. When the judges offered to split the prize evenly among all ten, some apparently resorted to profanity. As a result, everything was simply given up. No publication here, already withdrawn from other hopeful places, nothing for the honored top ten except the unhappy prospect of placing a story elsewhere.

Not good enough, not meeting a standard, not a cure for cancer. While an absolute standard for quality is a nice fiction, it seems some realism may be more appropriate. There is a point where trying to hold oneself to an ideal threatens integrity and it was reached in this case. It is absolutely tragic that such good intentioned people put so much effort into something that has done no good for anyone except the charity that was given the £5,000.

They should have at least published the anthology.

In Memory of a Cyber Friend

On January 19, in response to my request for reading recommendations, he posted in my Zoertrope cyber room:

As adverse as I am to tooting my own horn, here's a little piece that generated a lot of controversy KIN OF THE DEVIL.

I thanked him and bookmarked the link, but did not read the story right away. When I eventually read it, I did not tell him how much I liked it.

On January 30, he died.

~

I "met" David Veronese in another writer friend's cyber room in 2004. In that lively room he did not post as often as many others, but there was an odd humor that made him stand out. Though I enjoyed his wit very much, I was wary about people I did not know well and would not invite anyone to my cyber room before a long period of observation.

One day I workshopped a personal essay in the friend's room. David suggested:

And how about something a razor's width more dramatic, more consonant at any rate with the atmosphere of the rest of the story, but preserving somehow the New World (galaxy?) touch until it hits the "circle"... (e.g. in extremis: The narrator catches her daughter with a male in a murky/dreamy candlelit/aquarium laden basement. Words are exchanged, crying, a misunderstanding? Wait! That music in the background... The Boxer Rebellion, The Wu Tang Clan... Mao says: "Romantic love is class love..." Call on everything, ring every doorbell... Delicate, large footed girlchild hovering at the edge of the imaginal... Tinker away, Xujun, pick up the baton and lightly whack the editor twixt the orbits of his eyes

I was inspired by his suggestion, but thought he had faked the Mao quote for humor and I cracked up. It was so like what Mao could have said, yet the way David phrased it was very westernized, it was really funny to my Chinese ear. When I told him this, David responded,

Xujun: truth be told, the only thing that wasnt 'fake' in my 3am descry, was the quotation from Mao.

I realized David's version wasn't far from what Mao said, "In class society, every kind of thinking without exception is stamped with the brand of a class." I was impressed by his knowledge. I think it was after that I invited David to my room.

We had many stimulating discussions on writing and he was always very supportive. Once, I lamented on an agent rejection, and David said,

Don't think that I'll ever forgive her, Xujun

One has to be a writer who received numerous rejections before a final acceptance to appreciate the solace such humor could bring you.

On another occasion, David wrote me:

hi xujun: just read your story in night train. what a brilliant and intriguing piece. the fascinating backdrop of non-tourist china is the magical ingredient. our minds are so brainwashed it is somewhat electrifying for me to read :"It was not in the newspaper because this kind of news had no benefit to our country's stability and unity."

He understood the irony in my story, and I truly appreciated him telling me it.

~
I never met David in person. I learned about his death from another cyber friend Saturday. I had not told David how good his writing was in Kin of the Devil, or in The Operation.

DAVID GARRATT: Who says words with my mouth?

(I met DAVID GARRATT at VCCA last October, and visited his open studio with great interest. He is a thoughtful, inspiring and gifted artist. I hope many of you will go see his solo exhibition in Philadelphia. -- Xujun)
The Clay Studio
137 - 139 NORTH SECOND STREET
PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA
19106

DAVID GARRATT: Who says words with my mouth?
Juried Artist Solo Exhibition
HARRISON GALLERY
March 7 - March 30, 2008
Gallery Hours: Tuesday - Saturday, 11 - 7 PM, Sunday, 12 - 6 PM
215-925-3453 www.theclaystudio.org

Ceramic arts are our passion at The Clay Studio, a non-profit learning center in the heart of Old City, Philadelphia. Our exhibitions, retail shop, classes, artist residencies and community outreach programs educate and inspire locally, nationally and internationally.

The Clay Studio is a non-profit 501(c)(3) organization. Exhibitions are supported in part by:
The Pew Charitable Trusts, The Pennsylvania Council on the Arts, The Philadelphia Cultural Fund, The Independence Foundation & The Stockton Rush Bartol Foundation.

It Is Not Gender, It Is Not Color

Today my schedule is packed so I'll be short, but I do have a few words to say about the primary.

A friend told me she was going to vote for Hillary Clinton because Hillary is a woman and would be the first female President of the United States. My question is, if one truly advocates equality between men and women, why would gender be the first consideration for anything?

I'm going to vote for Obama today. It is not because of his gender, it is not because of his color. Among all the candidates, Obama appears to be closest to truth, and that is what matters to me. He speaks and acts like a real person rather than a pretentious politician. He may be relatively inexperienced, but that also means he's less corrupted. For the first time during my two decades of living in the United States, I feel motivated to vote in a primary.

"Why I'm Voting For Obama"

by Laila Lalami

Voting in presidential elections usually means picking the lesser evil among the politicians running for office, but this time I found a candidate I'm genuinely excited about: Barack Obama. The primary reason for my choice is that Obama opposed the Iraq war back in 2002. Read more>>

Going to AWP

I'm going to AWP New York today and will be there until Sunday. I intend to post during the conference, provided I have access to the internet. Stay tuned.

A Cyber Party to Celebrate THE LIAR'S DIARY

"Today, over 300 bloggers, including bestsellers, Emmy winners, movie makers, and publishing houses have come together to talk about THE LIAR'S DIARY by Patry Francis." Thanks to Susan Henderson for hosting this party, and to Maryanne for passing the information around! Read more here and here.

Contemporary Art at ICA

Yesterday, at the request of a reputed sculptor from Chengdu, China visiting with us, we went to ICA (The Institute for Contemporary Art/Boston). My husband had heard that the building was an amazing piece of architecture, so we were all eager to go.

When we arrived, I was, at first, a bit disappointed, because from the front the building is unremarkable. However on the fourth floor, where the galleries are located, I was utterly attracted by several works.

One was "1^st Light, 2005," a projected digital animation by Paul Chan. The moving silhouettes that are projected onto the floor – flying bicycles and other materials, in contrast with falling human figures appearing at intervals – gives an odd yet long-lasting impression. According to the description I read afterward, this work is a post-9/11 parable of politics and religion. The rising material and falling body reversal characterizes our era.

Another piece, a blanket made of pins painted black gives a deceptive soft and downy feeling. I had an impulse to touch it as you would at any soft and warm object. This irony between the thorny actuality and soft appearance fascinated me. I thought about borrowing this approach in my writing. I was so totally absorbed that I forgot to look at the title, artist name, or description of the piece.

The material and appearance contrast (apparently many artists are going in this direction) is also evident in a work by Cornelia Parker. I was surprised to find out that the hanging objects were charcoal. It turns out the piece is titled "Hanging Fire."

Louise Bourgeois' room-size spider is dominating and instantly recalls Kafka (my husband said Men in Black). I would like to know if it was influenced by "The Metamorphosis."

And we found out what was unique about the building's architecture: the back part of the 4^th floor hangs in the air, sticking out over the bay waves. Looking out from the window the sight is peculiar.

Taiji Celestial Village

by Maple Xu

Note: Maple is an avid traveler and photographer in China. I savor her travelogues, which are always unusual. Here I'm sharing with you the latest she sent me last week. Any translation error is mine. - Xujun

Yuyuan is a little known village in China's Zhejiang Province. For many hundreds of years, the villagers surnamed "Yu" worked and lived peacefully there. A first glance at the village would reveal no difference from any others around.

One day, by chance, someone flying by in an airplane looked down and saw it. He was so shocked that he broke out into a cold sweat. The eleven hills surrounding the village, together with the Taiji Yin-Yang Fish, constitute the 12 signs of celestial zodiac. Arranged in the classical Eight Diagrams, the village's 28 building blocks correspond to the 28 Celestial Mansions, with seven old wells forming the Big Dipper. The Yu clan's ancestral hall is located in the center of the constellation. A complete Taiji Celestial Diagram on earth!

The news spread, and brought in curious visitors. They found the oldest man in the village, who told a legend.

An ancestor of the Yu clan, Yu Lai, was friend and classmate of Liu Bowen (1311-1375), the great war-strategist from the Yuan Dynasty. Yu Lai had no interest in fame and wealth, and loathed officialdom. He lived all his life in the country, fishing, gardening, composing poems, and teaching children. Liu Bowen deeply respected the lighthearted classmate, and kept close contact with him even after Liu had became one of the highest officials in the emperor's court.

Every time Liu Bowen visited his home, which is not too far from Yuyuan, he always came to see Yu Lai first and stayed for a few days. Liu Bowen was a learned man, conversant from a young age in the art of war, works of Confucian and other ancient Chinese classics, astronomy and geography, Yin-Yang and divination. He was also fond of geological exploration, and had deep attainment in hydraulic engineering.

At the time, Yuyuan constantly suffered either drought or flood. Epidemics occurred frequently; people lived in dire poverty. Liu Bowen rearranged the Yu clan's generational names according to celestial constellations, and designed the Taiji celestial diagram for the village's reconstruction. Under his guidance, the villagers changed the straight stream into a curved one, and used the new stream as the Yin-Yang border in the Taiji diagram. The houses and wells were relocated accordingly. From then on, Yuyuan Village became free of disasters. Now the Yu clan's incense has passed to the 28th generation. Most of the over two thousand residents are surnamed Yu. The village is the largest Yu clan inhabitant in China.

The Yuyuan Village Taiji Diagram measures 320 meters in diameter, and has an area of 120 hectares, or 720 acres. The village preserves over 400 ancient buildings, with refined woodcarving, as well as stone- and brick-carving. In the eyes of the old residents, every tree in the village has a designated location that can't be moved. Any move would break the Feng-Shui, and the person who causes such a break would suffer retribution.

Shortly after the Liberation in 1949, someone attempted to fill a well so he could build a house over it. As soon as he finished filling the well, his house was on fire. Digging to reopen the well put out the fire. Any attempt to refill the well brought the fire back. Several attempts later, he gave up and did not dare to be impetuous any more.

That well is one of the seven stars in the Big Dipper. I found it following the village map faithfully, as if searching for treasure. So many years have gone by; matters are the same, people are different. In the well, clear water still bubbles.

An old lady was washing a bamboo board by the well. She told me an ancestral temple in the village has a beam that unfailingly makes the correct forecast for the weather.

I asked around along the way, and finally found the somewhat beaten old house. The keeper pointed to me the legendary beam, with nine perfectly preserved carps carved on it.


But when I first saw the carps, I counted and counted but could only find eight. "This is what you don't understand," the keeper twisted his lips complacently, "in the old times only the emperor was entitled to the number nine. If nine fish were obviously carved on the beam, wouldn't it risk the suspicion of competing with the emperor's 9-dragon pillar? That's why our smart ancestor honored the taboo and carved the 9th fish in the mouth of the eighth."

After seeing the light, I indeed found a lovely brisk little fish in a big fish's mouth.

It is said that the fish turn crimson for a sunny day, but khaki under an overcast sky. Rainy days, they are brown. That day when I visited, the weather was uncertain: after being cloudy for a while, it drizzled. Then it turned overcast again.

"Is that why the fish show alternating khaki and brown?"

The keeper responded to my question with an unfathomable smile.

(Photo copyrights 2007 Maple Xu)

The Beating Death of a Chinese Blogger

I am shaking with anger. Read the shocking news here.

Reading posts on the Chinese internet about the incident, a witness description particularly disturbed me. The mob was a fairly large crowd, and those at the outer rings had to keep jumping up in order to land their fists on Wei Wenhua. Such eagerness for participation in mass violence! This reminds me the Red Guards beating up "class enemies" during the Cultural Revolution. A striking parallel between the two cases is the difficulty in singling out THE culpable, while "the law doesn't rebuke the masses," as a Chinese adage says.

Against my initial suspicions that those city inspectors who took part in the beating might be uneducated street thugs hired for the dirty job, they were actually chosen from a competitive process. In other words, they might otherwise be normal government workers. Then what made them enjoy the beating with such eagerness? Is it the nature of a mass action that gives men the sense of legitimacy in violence?

Merry Speece's Writing

Rusty Barnes, editor of Night Train, called Merry Speece's story "Stone Dog" one of his favorites. When I read the story, it is its peculiar, inimitable language that fascinates me. You'll need an Adobe reader to read "Stone Dog." But don't worry if you do not have one – here is another work by Merry Speece on Poemeleon, where she claims "I don't distinguish much between poetry and prose." Treat yourself with this read.

Letter from MMM Hayes

At some point last year, the renowned literary magazine StoryQuarterly changed hands. However, concerned writers never received words from its new publisher about what happened. As recent as last week, some of my writer friends still thought SQ was under the editorship of its long-time publisher MMM Hayes. Yesterday, MMM Hayes sent a memo to the list of authors she has published, including me (my story, "Goldbach's Conjecture," appeared in SQ 40). With her permission, I'm posting MMM's memo below, and hope it clarifies a few things. Comments and questions are welcome and appreciated. - Xujun

-----------

Wishing you all a wonderful and productive new 2008! 2007 welcomed a big transition for StoryQuarterly as it expanded to online publishing within the Narrative Magazine group and I want to take this opportunity to tell you all how much I’ve enjoyed working with and getting to know you.

After eleven years of editing and publishing, I felt ready to move on to some other projects, but wanted StoryQuarterly to continue to grow and thrive. In 2007 I left editing with one of SQ’s stories anthologized in the O. Henry Prize Stories and another in Best American Essays, always a lot of work, but so worth it, and I wanted a healthy future for SQ. I found the perfect vision, and ability to execute, in Tom Jenks, a long-time friend at Narrative Magazine. The change occurred last May; after I’d turned over the stories I’d chosen from last year’s reading period to the Narrative people to negotiate their own contracts. I was delighted to see StoryQuarterly become a paying market, plus seeing Narrative’s huge online circulation give a giant boost to StoryQuarterly’s already large literary readership. Narrative published SQ’s annual print edition in a beautiful new format—take a peek at www.storyquarterly.com. The book, titled 13 Lies and 3 Truths is available through print-on-demand, or at Amazon.com. All of this means more visibility for my authors, which I find deeply gratifying.

Since May, I’ve personally hunkered down to finish up two novels of my own, and had time to take an inspiring course on Milosz, given by Adam Zagajewski, newly visiting professor at the U of Chicago. But much as I’m enjoying my return to the real world, and sending my own writings up to bat, I must admit that I already miss the personal contact I’ve had with you all over these busy years and I’ll always be grateful for the lifelong friendships I’ve made while mud-wrestling over word choices in your stories. So on to the next, but I’ll always be part of the industry, in a number of ways. Once a book addict, always a book addict, right?

I hope you’ll continue to update me on your own lives with email news, pictures, and copies of new books. Email me, or send stuff to the same old address: 431 Sheridan Road, Kenilworth, IL 60043. I’ll also be at the AWP in New York, staying at the Hilton Hotel from Wednesday, January 30 through Saturday, Feb 1. Catch me there. I’d love a visit. I’ll look for you in the New SQ format and anticipate the surprises that lie in store for us as we meld our style into Narrative’s. I do believe that the bright future of literary publishing will be online, already is, and that StoryQuarterly’s accepting Narrative’s stewardship seized a good opportunity for this historic publication to continue to go forward and grow under Tom Jenk’s strong leadership. Already my choice has been hugely rewarded as I’ve seen two new online SQ publications and the beautiful 13 Lies and 3 truths, the annual SQ imprint.

I hope you share my enthusiasm for the changes in the industry. I got a new Sony ereader for Christmas and the new Kindle will have audio too. I’m sure technology will convert even more readers from the online generation, a phenomenon in the making, in my view. I’d love to hear your thoughts.

MMM Hayes

Rose Fox: "How I Do PW Stuff"

Rose Fox is a writer and editor at Publishers Weekly. She recently posted on her blog Rose Fox Reads a series of articles about how book reviews work at PW. Interesting and informative stuff for writers. Here are the links (thanks to Donna Storey for directing me to this):

How I do PW stuff, part 1: "When will my book be reviewed?"
How I do PW stuff, part 2: all imprints great and small
How I do PW stuff, part 3: which books get reviewed
How I do PW stuff, part 4: starred reviews
How I do PW stuff, part 5: editing reviews

T-Shirts and Mayan Ruins

High Priest's Grave

Seven is everywhere in the ruins at Chichen Itza, our Mayan tour guide Santos Yah tells us. Now toward the end of our tour, we stand in front of the High Priest's Grave. Santos counts the step-pyramid temple's stone walls, "One, two, three, four, five…seven walls. When it was explored, 1993, 1997, that's how we know, it's a tomb. In the tomb was found skeletons. Do you have an idea how many skeletons?"

People murmur. An American man's confident voice raises above others: "Seven thousand!"

"Seven," says Santos.


A Mexican T-Shirt

Bob went running early in the morning outside of our Cancun hotel, as he did daily at home. A Mexican man in his thirties ran ahead of Bob. The man wore a T-shirt with text around an airplane, like this:

Bob, who learned enough Spanish in his youth when he bicycled through Latin America jungles, described the T-shirt to me afterward and said the text translated as "Authorized Terrorist." Then he commented, "People apparently are more relaxed about these things in Mexico."

Could the NY Times Have Done a Better Job?

This week, the New York Times managed to surprise me with a report titled "1977 Exam Opened Escape Route Into China’s Elite." It was curious that the Times would take up a subject whose significance is difficult for Americans to comprehend, while a disappointment that the reporter apparently failed to grasp, let alone convey, the significance of the event in question.

This report falls short in three ways: it uses an incongruous headline, unillustrative examples, and an unresourceful reporter.

Incongruous headline: since winter 1977, China has been holding exams for university entrance every year. And every year the exams open an escape route for some people. The top scorers get into the top schools. This is to say, producing elites is hardly the unique significance of the 1977 exam.

Unillustrative examples: so, assuming the headline holds, who are the elites from the 1977 class (which happened to be my class)? According to the report, a couple of unheard of Chinese immigrants in the US, and a couple of teachers in unheard of Chinese universities. Hardly elites, unless being American implies such an ascension. The report mentions in passing a few famous names such as Zhang Yimou, but fails to provide any story about those people.

Wrong reporter: apparently the reporter, who might otherwise be quite competent, was unable to find more representative or interesting sources from the class of 1977. I don't blame him. To have deep connections in China or deep understanding of China's history is too much to ask from an American newsroom journalist.

What I don't understand is why the Times does not use a Chinese writer or reporter who has better grasp and sources for things like the 1977 exam. I have been reading the Times for many years and have yet to see a major report on China with a Chinese-name byline.

If I were to write a report on this subject, I would not focus on how the 1977 exam changed a few people's life but instead how it generated a class with no precedence or antecedence. It was the first and the last exam of the lost generation of idealists, and it picked out a collection of the most aspiring students who, with no university to go to for ten years, had labored at the bottom of society and gained real understanding of China's problems. This unique, often painful, experience was what made them a class with unparalleled dedication to learning and, subsequently, a practical mainstay of China's transition to modernization.

I would have no problem to find representative members of this class.

"The Making of a Story" by Alice LaPlante

I brought this book along - an arbitrary choice more or less - for pleasure reading during vacation. Now I'm unexpectedly pleased. Whenever I get a few minutes between activities I want to open it. This is probably one of the most open-minded yet truly informative craft books you will find today. The author's intelligence as a writer and a thinker springs onto the pages. I suspect any writer who does not have an MFA (like me) might learn a few things while enjoying the read. I especially relish the "Reading as a Writer" sections.

Cancun Surprises

Tailbone

Mayans have Chinese blood, a local man tells us. The man has mixed European and native Mexican blood, and speaks nearly perfect English. Any evidence? I ask. "See that woman?" He points to one of the hotel staff walking by. "See her eyes?" I glance at her as she glances back at me, suspicious. Indeed, the Mayan woman's eyes look more like mine than his or my husband's. Further, the Mayans have names such as Chu, Chen, and Qi. "Those are Chinese names," our companion says positively. I find myself unable to dispute.

And the Mayans have Mongolian blood, he adds. "You know about the Mongolian spot, right?" "No." "You don't know?" He is genuinely surprised. "The Mongolians have a black spot here," he places his palm on his lower back, where the tailbone might be. "And the Mayan kids have it too. It disappears at twelve." Some Mayan children will even offer to show their black spots to tourists.

Doll in Bread

Last night, we bought a loaf of fruit bread from a Mexican supermarket. This morning when we sliced the bread, a tiny white plastic figure emerged from within. We brought the figurer to our hotel concierge, Andy. Her eyebrow leaped. "You found that?" She said something about a child who finds the doll is responsible for bringing food to the celebration on February 3rd. This is what I found on the internet afterward:

Rosca de Reyes

Three Kings Sweet Bread

Rosca is the name given to any ring-shaped bread or cookie. This sweet bread was once used by the friars to evangelize: a small doll, representing the Christ child, is baked right in the bread- "hidden", to symbolize the hiding of the infant from King Herod's troops on the day of Los Santos Inocentes, the Holy Innocents. This treat is traditionally served on the festive Three Kings Day, when the children receive their toys. Whoever gets the slice of rosca with the doll in it has to provide the tamales and atole for the next party, on Candlemas.

Caribbean Blues

"How many blues?" A Mexican girl named Pamela asks me. We are looking at the blue waves of the Caribbean crashing on the beach below the balcony. Surprised by the question, I turn to gaze at the soaring waves again. Before the question was asked, there was one blue; now there are many shades.

"Fifty six," Pamela says.

"Finding Iris Chang"

Has anyone read this book by Paula Kamen? My attention was called to it by the author interview that set off objections from Iris Chang’s parents and some friends. Read the interview and comments here.

Flaubert etc. in San Diego Zoo

San Diego Zoo is one of my daughter's favorites. Yesterday she named a flamingo there 'Flaubert.' When asked why, she said, "Flaubert is a nice name for a flamingo. He's looking at you upside-down."

Left: "Flaubert"






Right: "Gregorie and Jean-Luc"







Left: "'Tourists.'"


Below: "Family Vacation"









A bonus photo (below): "Claim Device"


(Photo copyrights 2007, Sonya Eberlein. All rights reserved)