Book challenge progress

It's been a while, and there's too much to say, and much of it has already been said. (Last year brought two major relocations and the end of a five-year relationship, but after the earthquake and its physical and emotional aftermath, I think I can safely say that this year has already equaled it in insanity. Then there was that date I went on)

Anyway, as usual, the only way I feel like I can dive back into blogging is by talking about books. I'm still behind on the 50-book challenge (I've read 15 books when I should be at around 20), and even more behind with the blogging, and some of these books deserve much more attention than I've given them here, but if I try to do an individual entry for each book I'll never get this done.

6. Lady Chatterley's Lover, D.H. Lawrence
Penguin Books, 314 pages, 1928
I was quite disappointed by this, to be honest. I hadn't expected that the controversy would stand the test of time, but I didn't expect it to be downright sexually conservative, either. I did find the social commentary and anti-industrialist themes interesting--more interesting than the characters, to be honest, which is probably why I didn't enjoy the book. (Apparently it's been criticized in the past for being too transparent in its social commentary, at the expense of storytelling.)

7. Revolutionary Road, Richard Yates
Vintage Classics UK (Random House), 337 pages, 1961
This book works quite well into the post I'm writing about Rabbit, Run by John Updike, so I won't say anything about it here except that it is very nearly the perfect novel.

8. The Book of Tea, Kakuro Okazawa
IBC Publishing, 135 pages, 1906
I started taking lessons on tea ceremony recently, and decided to read this as a way of immersing myself deeper into the meaning and spirit behind tea ceremony. The book easily delivered on that promise and really brought the ceremony alive for me, with the unexpected side effect of making me understand finally this aspect of Japanese culture that I have been rejecting for all these years as cliche. I'm a little ashamed to admit that despite all my Asian American studies coursework, I once had a tendency to thoughtlessly consider the Japanese cultural arts (tea ceremony included) to be sort of outdated and inauthentic, something white people tried to push on me without understanding that Japanese America has long since moved on. But after learning and reading about tea ceremony I understand exactly why the Issei generation continued practicing it in the internment camps, and exactly what was lost when subsequent generations abandoned it to become more American. This is all just my personal baggage and doesn't necessarily have anything to do with the book itself, but it is a wonderful introduction to the philosophy of tea ceremony.

9. Let the Great World Spin, Colum McCann
Random House, 349 pages, 2009
This one took a while to draw me in--I didn't find the initial group of characters especially compelling. But gradually McCann brings in more characters and sketches out the connections between them, creating an intricate web of incidental attachments and people passing in the streets. After those slow first pages, it's a wonderful story.

10. What I Talk About When I Talk About Running, Haruki Murakami
Vintage International (Random House), 180 pages, 2007, translated in 2008 by Philip Gabriel
When I picked this up, it had been a while since I had read anything; instead, I had been spending a lot of time at the gym, and I thought this book would be a good way to connect all that physical effort back to something mental. I love Murakami's style and would enjoy reading him write about just about anything, but what impressed me with this one was how well he knows himself, how intimate and concrete is his knowledge of his own strengths and shortcomings.

11. Life of Pi, Yann Martel
Vintage Canada (Random House), 354 pages, 2001
Life of Pi is just excellent storytelling--funny, sad, smart. I don't know what else to say about it; I avoided reading it for years because of all the buzz and finally became interested in it due to this (really old, major-spoiler-containing) Ask Metafilter thread. It has its flaws, which this review does a better job of describing than I could--the one that bothered me the most was that Pi's religious fervor, so important in the early chapters of the novel, is almost completely dropped as a theme once the survival story begins. But it was still a thoroughly enjoyable read.

12. A Wild Sheep Chase, Haruki Murakami
Vintage UK (Random House), 299 pages, 1982, translated by Alfred Birnbaum
I LOVED, LOVED, LOVED this and I can't even explain why. Like I said, I love Murakami's style and would read him writing about almost anything, but this time it was the story that captivated me--following the nameless protagonist deep into the desolation of northern Hokkaido, passing through sad hotels and forgotten train stations, all in pursuit of a magical sheep. It's like the protagonist says to the black-suited secretary who sends him on the assignment: "This all has got to be, patently, the most unbelievable, the most ridiculous story I have ever heard. Somehow coming from your mouth, it has the ring of truth, but I doubt anyone would believe me if I told them what happened today."

13. The Red Tent, Anita Diamant
Picador USA, 321 pages, 1997
The Red Tent re-imagines the life of a minor female character in the Bible; it's a beautiful, rich, sensory novel. My one problem with it was that after spending the first half of the novel with Dinah's four strong, funny, fascinating mothers, the story of Dinah's exile in Egypt (and her meekness and devotion to her controlling mother-in-law and absent son) is almost disappointing and definitely anti-climactic. Despite that, though, it was a pleasure to read.

I've finished two more books since I started writing this post, but I think I want to give them individual entries. Next up: Rabbit, Run by John Updike

5. Irene Sabatini: The Boy Next Door

The Boy Next Door, Irene Sabatini

Sceptre UK, 403 pages, 2009

I grabbed this in Kinokuniya when I was in Tokyo, feeling that I should be reading A) more recent novels (stay up with the current trends and all that), and B) more non-Western and especially African novels. Despite being a lifelong bookworm, the vast majority of the books I've read have been from American or European authors, with a few popular representatives from Latin America (Isabel Allende and Gabriel Garcia Marquez) and Asia (Haruki Murakami). I don't think I've ever read a single African author.

The Boy Next Door wasn't amazing, but it was enjoyable enough. It reminded me of early Isabel Allende: plucky heroine finds love against a backdrop of political unrest. I did find it hard to understand a lot of the Zimbabwean slang and political references (though that may have had something to do with the fact that I read a big chunk of it on the train on the way back from midyear seminar, when I was absolutely bushed).

Something else worth noting: the cover. It's no secret that publishing companies are weird about putting non-white faces on book covers (recent example: Justine Larbalestier's Liar), so in a way this cover is exceptional. Not much else to say there; just wanted to point it out.


Next up: Lady Chatterley's Lover by D.H. Lawrence

I'm WINNING!

Sunday was a day of trying new things. The list, in order:

1. Snowboarding
If you know me, you're probably thinking "WTF?" I am not athletic, I am not outdoorsy, I am scared of everything to the point where I won't go on most roller coasters, and before this year I had never lived in a place that gets snow. Well, Joetsu, as you might have heard, gets a LOT of it, and everyone here does winter sports as a way to make it bearable. It took me a while to hop on the bandwagon but I went for the first time on Sunday and it was AMAZING. I'm pretty sure they release some sort of chemical in the air at Ikenotaira to make you feel this way. Going up the ski lift and feeling the fear was amazing, getting it right and zooming down the slope was amazing, falling down was amazing, going 3 feet and then faceplanting again was amazing. Snowboarding is something I would never in a million years have considered doing back home. I was so proud of myself just for going, and then to actually have a great time doing it was the icing on the cake! I'm almost disappointed that I got into it so late in the season, but I think this was something I needed right now.

2. Onsen
Onsen are public baths fueled by natural hot springs. They're everywhere in Japan (there's one within a few miles of my house) and I really should have been to one already by now. But man, it was the perfect way to relax after snowboarding.

3. Kimchi ramen!

Enough said.

4. Jared Diamond: Guns, Germs, and Steel

Guns, Germs, and Steel, Jared Diamond
W.W. Norton, 440 pgs, 1997

Wow, what to say. Before reading this I had vaguely held the unexamined notion that popular science was for hacks. I'll be the first to admit that I don't read much in the genre, though, and I think really I have more of a problem with the way popular science books are marketed, as Guns, Germs, and Steel is much more thoughtful and thorough than the buzz around it would suggest.

I still don't really want to read Outliers, though.

Anyway, the book sets out to answer the question of why certain societies developed advanced technology and came to dominate the world, while other contemporary groups were still living as hunter-gatherers with stone tools. Diamond suggests that the ultimate causes lie in the geographical conditions that each of these groups was given to work with--the relative isolation, native flora and fauna, suitability for food production, and ease of travel of each of their environments. It doesn't actually have a lot to do with guns, germs, or steel, but I suppose that was catchier than just calling it Food and Geographical Conditions. One of the more interesting insights, for me, was the idea that food production spread more quickly in continents that are wider than they are tall, because places at the same latitude were more likely to share similar climates and thus be able to adopt each other's crops. In this way, Eurasia gained an early advantage over Africa and the Americas, where varying climates meant that people in different parts of the continent had to discover crop domestication for themselves. Continents that were easier to traverse tended to foster a greater exchange of ideas and technology, as expected, but Diamond also argues that China's rivers and plains (as opposed to Europe's many peninsulas) made political unification so easy that it actually retarded technological growth, since it only took one anti-technology ruler to stop progress for decades. (Columbus went to several monarchs before gaining Spain's support for his voyage; in China he wouldn't have made it past the first appeal.)

I could go on and on--the book is full of elegant solutions to complex problems, but they're never made snappy or dumbed down. It also had the side effect of giving me a brief education in the pre-European histories and peoples of Africa, the Americas, Australia, Papua New Guinea, and Polynesia, although there are probably better ways to learn about that.

Next up: The Boy Next Door by Irene Sabatini

Setsubun and Chinese New Year

The road home at sunset. I didn't actually have this landscape in mind when I named my blog Sunset in Snow Country; I meant for it to refer to the Sunset District in San Francisco, where I lived for five years. I miss the pastel-colored houses and the dim sum shops and the ocean in constant view, and I feel as if I still carry it with me wherever I go. My life is a little piece of the Sunset in snow country, hence the name. So the picture doesn't have much to do with anything, but I still pulled over on the shoulder and jumped out of the car to take it. We don't see the sun much these days.

For the past two weekends I've been going to cooking classes sponsored by the international exchange network, which has ended up being really great. The first one was for a Japanese holiday called Setsubun. When I was a kid I had a book of Japanese holidays and traditions, and over the years I got to experience most of them in some altered form (the mall in Japantown does Tanabata trees every year, I went to an Oshogatsu event at the Japanese American National Museum last year, and of course there's the Cherry-Blossom Festival), but Setsubun was the one that never made an appearance in the U.S., and so going to the event had the weird effect of yanking me out of the commute-work-home cycle and reminding me that I am, right now, doing something that I've dreamed of since childhood. I'd say this happens about once every two weeks these days, and it's an amazing feeling.

Setsubun isn't really a major holiday; it's supposed to be the last day of winter (ha!), and the traditional ritual is to cast out demons by throwing beans. Apparently the Setsubun food we made, ehommaki (a long sushi roll), originated in Western Japan and has only made it to Niigata in recent years. But hey! I was in the newspaper!

If you can't read that, feel free to imagine that I am quoted saying something really cool and insightful and not "HURF DURF MAKING TAMAGOYAKI IS HARRRRDDDD."

Also, despite reading that Japan book over and over, I somehow failed to internalize the fact that people don't just toss beans around randomly on Setsubun. So I was completely surprised when the lights suddenly went out and Suzuki, the university student who did the presentation at the beginning, rushed in wearing a demon costume and roared at the kids, who screamed and pelted him with beans and candy.

Apparently someone in the household (usually Dad) will dress up as the demon and everyone else throws the beans at him. Most of the schools also did bean-throwing, and more than one of my ALT friends actually had to dress up as the demon and get mobbed by bean-throwing 12-year-olds. We just had do-it-yourself ehommaki for lunch:

You take the nori (at the back) and put the rice (it was sushi rice!) inside with whatever you want and roll it up. The choices are tamagoyaki, cucumber, cheese and a cold sausage. There's also miso soup with meatballs, tuna and corn salad, and milk. Believe it or not, this is about as good as it gets.

The most recent cooking class was making Chinese-style gyozas for Chinese New Year, which was great for several reasons. The first, obviously, is that I now know how to make and properly fold gyoza!

It turns out that most of the people there were Chinese exchange students at the local university. Japanese was the only language we had in common, so that's what we used. I got a lot of practice and met some cool people!

Now I'm looking at my notes for what I wanted to write about and wondering if I was on a food high from eating all those gyoza, but what the hell, I'll try. Since being in Japan, I've met people from Australia, England, Scotland, Ireland, Canada, Switzerland, New Zealand, Korea, and most recently Italy and China. Now, I'm from a very culturally diverse city, and at home I also met people of all national origins. But I recently read somewhere (I think it was a comment on Metafilter, of all places) that "Americans see all foreigners as potential Americans," and that really hit home. When I think about people back at home, particularly with my Asian friends, I sometimes have to think pretty hard to remember whether they were actually born in the U.S. or another country, just because everyone was sort of in various stages in the process of becoming American and it didn't really make much of a difference anyway. The most conspicuous foreigners I ever met were two white British guys in my newswriting class who, when we had an assignment to write about somewhere out of our comfort zone and the teacher nixed their plan to go to Hooters, moaned in their posh accents, "But we would NEVAAAHHH go to HOOTERS! It's so TACKY!" (Second place goes to all the French tourists who would pitch a fit because we didn't sell sweatshirts with the GAP logo on them. Seriously, get a life.) Here, though, most of my friends have never been to the U.S., and of course we're all on neutral ground, and living in Japan has suddenly thrust me into the realization that other countries are not just America with some history and funny customs tacked on as an afterthought. Because of these things I'm finding that I'm learning a lot more from them than I ever would have at home. 

Anyway, LONG POST IS LONG. Sunday deserves its own entry, so I think I shall end there.