Orphan of Asia

"Orphan of Asia" by Zhuoliu Wu is a strangely modern book-from 1945.
It is my second reading of this book, after almost exactly 8 years, and
I still had a lot to learn. After 2009 I spent a substantially different
5 years in Taiwan than the previous 5 years, and learnt it from the other angle.
With the distance I have now, 3 years after returning to Europe, I start
seeing the experience of Taiwan in yet another light.

The book was written in Japanese language, at the time when Japan was
just ceasing to be a heavenly ruler of Asia, and some other more earthly
masters went into ruling it. Taiwan just stopped being the Japan proper,
and soon became a dumping place for Chinese failures of Nationalists:
Kuomintang party of China took over, with help of their beastly losers.
But this is still to befell on Taiwan- in the time of writing, it is a
Japanese backwater, where Masters are teaching their underlings to be
human, that is, Japanese.

Taiming, a boy from the mountain village, knows nothing of it-as
was, and still is, the case with so many a Taiwanese boys (even at
the age of over 50) today. He starts his classical Chinese education
with a master in the mountains, an opiate addict, who lives a virtual
classical Chinese life in a seclusion. Boys play, but also soak into
the mind-narrowing classical learning. Which, after all, is what makes
Chinese being Chinese: an anachronism, almost an atavism, which survives
until today because of sheer powers of life.

Nothing less could explain how such an impenetrable culture, which
virtually prevents dissemination of knowledge to its population (c'mon,
15 years of hard work just to learn to read and write?!). Probably the
explanation is that for a human society to thrive, having only basic
education is better than giving wide knowledge to everyone-it just brings
problems. It is much, much easier to govern a stupid, uninformed mass of
people, than a well educated body of citizens. This is why Heavenly Empire
of the Country of the Middle was one of the last empires to fall. And when
it fell, it fell to a similarly stupefying mindset, which immediately brought
caricatures (in bad taste) of any free minded thought.

Taiming actually succeds, he goes to Japan to study, but because of his low
(=Taiwanese) background, fails to obtain appropriate position in the
Japanese driven society. He is utterly rejected.

When he moves to China, he is rejected doubly, as a Japanese subject, but
even more as a Taiwanese. To be able at all to work in China, he has to
hide that he is Taiwanese, so low is the esteem his compatriots have in China.

The fact of being a Japanese subject at a time of WWII, complicates the
things, and he has to flee back to Taiwan. Interestingly enough, he did not
make a fame there-people of his stature, with university diplom from Japan,
were not many. But again, as a non-Japanese he did not really have a chance,
and his lack of zeal for sacrifying his life on the altar of Imperium, did
not help. He was conscripted into army, and went into fight on the mainland,
but so disgusted he was with what he saw there-and from the hands of his own
army, Japanese soldiers-that he just went crazy, literally, and was
repatriated as inept for the service.

Back home, he recovered, but with a new distance to everything going on
around him. He went to introspection again, and slowly, painfully, he
allowed to himself to be what he really is.

But this does not stop the course of history, and Taiwan did not get well in
the troubled waters. When his family suffers, Taiming feels he himself was
responsible for it-as the best educated person from his village, he should
do more to protect them. In his introspective way he takes the blame and
goes crazy, this time for good. For him, a Taiwanese, immersed in the
deeply troubled identity of a non-nation, the historical moment was too
much.

In the first reading I more saw his troubled, confused personality, than the
persistence with which he tried not to succumb to strong currents of history
around him. And fails. As Taiwan eventually failed in the XX ct., and is
only now, with the new, globalized generation, trying to define some new
identity. It will not be anything like what their forefathers could imagine
or approve, but this, exactly, is how the rough waters of history tumble the
ideas of the past into the reality of the future: sometimes they are
crashed and cast anew into a completely new form, which would be impossible
to predict at the previous level. A bit like we can not predict what will
come of the outspring of a family in few generations-they will find their ow
way.

In my life, I saw one re-birth of a nation, in my own country. But Croatia
had a history of a 1000 years, and even a pre-history (although, as it
usually goes, mixed with plenty of mythology) as a well defined Slavic
tribe. So, in not too good times of cronysm, rampant primitive
ultra-catholicism and general decay of values going on there since its
birth, there always remains the virtue of "we are ourselves doing it to
ourselves, so we probably deserve it".

"Taiwanese" were never a tribe, and definitely were never a defined
nation. It is, today, a nation to be born. That is, if Chinese Communist
Party will be too busy with itself to allow for it. On the other side, they
would never profile as a nation if there would not be a contrast and
fearsome Big Red Brother accross the sea. How they will fare the troubled
waters remains to be seen. I would give a credit to some of the youth there,
who do not want to fill the Party lines, and prefer instead a more
self-introspective mode. Which is today not less dangerous than it was in
the Taiming's time. Levi'Strauss was wrong, History, some new one, just starts, and
it is completely unpredictable.

There is another level in this book, which might be useful to Western expatriates
who find themselves puzzled by the inconsistencies in the Taiwanese everyday life.
They survived in Taiwan from the first half of the XX ct., and the writer removes
well the obscuring layers of history from some of them.

In the Columbia University Press edition, this book was a part of presenting
Taiwanese writers at the beginning of the Millenium. It was a good effort, but not
so easy to follow as it was not easy to find the books. Now, when it became easy
because of online bookstores, I will follow the other publications, to learn more.
This is one of the virtues of the new times, with which modern Taiwan fares better
than in the old, obscure and elitist ways.

Divine invasion

In a previous post, Valis,
I prophetically wrote that I will go after continuation of Philip K. Dick's
"Valis", after I recover from the bull-shit of the 1st book. I am a certified
masochist, and I like PKD's writing, really, even when it shows he used too
much of illicit chemistry at the time of writing.

So, there I was, "The Divine Invasion". As usual for PKD, it kicked off
magnificently, with humans living on another planets as a senseless
guardians of the senselles colonization of the extrasolar worlds across
the Galaxy. And yes, they are dead, as PKD liked to have them. Or almost
dead, as they are held in criogenic suspension until organs for replacement are found.

In "Valis", God, who was a girl, Sophia, dies. Here it is reborn, in a
virgin conception which happens on another planet. Emmanuel, the boy, is
folloved closely by Elias, who is a beggar even in the alien planet. The
conception happened under the auspicion of the local alien god of a small
hill, Jah. Did we hear the story anywhere? But PKD, helped with tonnes of
good psychodelic, produces a well informed and, yes, readable version of the
story from The Scripture. It is definitely one of the best rendering of it
which I read. Halleluyah, Philip.

Emmanuel the kid devised a way to forget his own godly plans, so he could
exist in the real world, but is permanently having flashes of reminding, as
do the people around him. He is guided around by a little girl-Athena,
Diana, he guesses, but it shows to be his own adversary-or angel-a less
known Talmudic being. Belial himself appears as a small stinky black goat-and
is killed by a Linda Fox, pop singer, who is the angel, appropriately.

Still, even if less than it was the case with the first part of the trilogy,
the book is full of references to the Old Testament, and reads for long pages
as a Jehova Witness text. Not that lenghty and disturbing the flow of the story
as in "Valis", but still, unnecessary. A pity PKD, or his editor, did not
remove that.

I was asking myself what to hell do I get from this reading, should I not just
throw it away. No, I am a masochist, obviously.

I acquired the third part, and the beginning reads really well. Good for me and
the world that PKD did not produce more of it!

Vegetarian reading Hemingway

Being vegetarian, to read and, even more, to enjoy reading "Green hills of
Africa", a classical Hemingway hunting narrative-which in this case is a true
biographical text, not a novel, might seem awkward. Indeed, it brought
some mixed thoughts to me at certain moments. But then, I am a descendent of
shepherds, who were not exactly softies, when it comes to killing, skinning
and eating sheep. Vegetarianism is, in my native part of the world, still
unusual choice.

So, my focus was rather on writing, than on blood.

Hemingway writing is at his best here. The way he writes is above
skin, meat and horns. It is life itself.

I liked that he had doubts, at some moments, about his right to kill...but he
justified it easily with "it is natural, going on all the time here in the wild,
and my single killing to million killings happening in the same time does
not add nothing".

What is so good in Hemingway's description of killing? Nothing, he keeps it
clean, he defines a good kill as a chirurgical work. What is good is his
conveying of emotions, his way of description...one can be lazy, ignorant,
thick-headed with him, or moved, motivated, furious...drunk.

Describing the natives and nature, he is impartial, very realistic. I like the way how
he sees them, I think I would try to do the same. Not abstract their
humanity, but also not assuming too much. It is a real clash of
civilisations, and he could equally well visit some other inhabited planet
anywhere in the Galaxy.

Yes, he is a hell of a writer-is, as reading a good writer is like a
discourse, even when (s)he is centuries dead.

"We Have No Idea" by J. Cham & D. Whiteson

PhD (Piled Higher and Deeper) Comics is a Jorge Cham's art work since the
beginning of the Millenium, and is alive and kicking. This Caltech graduate
made life funnier for many a student gnawing through her/his study
experiments and university (lack of) life.

In addition to comics, Jorge worked on movies and books. I read the book
"We Have No Idea", which he published together with physicist Daniel
Whiteson, trying to show-off not so much what we do know about physics, but
what we do NOT know. And when they write "do not know" it means really,
completely and deeply not having any idea what to hell is happening there.

Like it is with Dark Matter and Energy, why is Gravity so different from
other forces, number of dimensions, why the speed of light is the largest
one around, are we alone in the Universe,... and many, many other questions,
which you for sure asked yourself or your physicist friend.

The book is funny, full of witty and cheeky puns, and very accurate. It is
not your usual gibberish from the newspapers or even "scientific"
periodicals. It is a rather well-informed text, from which even a
professional physicist can learn. Or at least have some fun with well and
fun posed questions, and some answers.

Jorge Cham advertises it as a book for 10 yrs old to PhD's, and he is right,
it is fun for everyone who likes to pose questions at the edge of our
knowledge. Or in the middle of it.

It is challenging, and true, to think that we are, with all our
sophistication and Academia, only at bare bones od Science. Some later
generations will look at us like we now think about Ancient Greeks or Middle
Ages priests doing science, offering explanations for the miracles of the
world. It is hard to exaggerate the responsibility of every one of us, who
had or have the luck, chance and privilege, to work in some of the branches
of Science, for the spreading of the good (and, sometimes, bad) news of
Science.

If scientists are not doing their job in explaining Science to the public,
false prophets are taking over, and the dark knights of ignorance are always
ready to overcome the bright side of the powers of nature. Jorge Cham found
his way, for the good and delight of many a reader.

Drakulic on Mileva Einstein: Theory of Sadness

A well chosen title, as a physicist I was immediately drawn to the book.
Unfortunately, what followed did not justify (my) expectation.

I write this 2 days after Einstein's Theory of Relativity finally
was awarded the Nobel Prize-in fact, its last experimental check.

Einstein himself was awarded the Nobel Prize for other contributions, though
the most important test of his theory of gravitation had already been made
at that time. However, Relativity did not seem attractive enough, Academia
establishment did not quite believe it.

Today they trust Einstein unconditionally, for everything that this little man has
predicted in equations, persisted. In fact, this last confirmation of gravity waves,
even himself would have troubles to swallow, because he thought the gravity waves
did not carry any energy, so they would not have any effect on the matter through
which they pass. A. Trautman, a Polish physicist, proved him wrong in a paper
stating that gravitational waves do carry energy and were, consequently,
measurable. But, stubborn as Einstein was, he never accepted it and in effect
hindered early development of that part of physics.

Similar stuborness costed his family and hinself a lot. But one is expecting
some trouble from a genius, no?

Einstein's biographies have passed a full circle of biographies of great
men: from the saintly idealization to the ugly muds of private life. I hoped
that S. Drakulic would do it the way I liked in eg. her writing about Dora
Maar. The task to present Albert's shadow/wife is a proper one
for this writer.

She started well, showing the beginning of a common life, somewhat similar
to Marie Curie biography. But shortly afterward, the three-dimensional character
loses its depth. In the end, only the two-dimensional picture with
the broken cover remains,

Maybe it was the problem with the available material, the letters? That would be
strange, the legacy behind Einstein should be big and enough to gather more
data than this mentioned in the book. Or some of it was destroyed? If so,
the author should find a way to describe the reasons for the lack of it in the
book. This would maybe explain a kind of plain feeling about characters.

Even so, it clarified to me how Einstein came to his theories, in discussions
with Mileva and other friends of their student circle. I could hardly
imagine him to do it any other way than in heated discussions. Also, I was
suspecting that Mileva helped greatly in writing, ordering the material in
articles.

In his family life with Mileva, Einstein did what even in theory would not hold
water, even less so in practice. It had tragic consequences. He was not
enough mature to think about person he has from the other side, a
potentially depressive and insecure person. He should support Mileva much
earlier to be on her own, not push her down. Then he would also have gained
more freedom of action, which obviously he needed.

Mileva's father commented well when the marriage finally came to an end,
that he respects Albert as a scientist and father of his grandchildren,
but that he noticed early that he was not good as a husband. And he was not,
as he did not show enough concern for either Mileva or the children.

Mileva had unrestrained support from her father in paying for her study, which
for that time, early 20th century, was not a small step for the Balkans.
Albert did not ignore her needs either, in the early days. She actually
was of a troubled psyche, with a strong tendency to depression. And
insufficient self-confidence.

And lack of luck, chronic lack of happiness.

Really a pity, with a bit more happiness, she could have been like
Marie Curie, she had the ability to be. It's sad to see someone's potential
crumbled under the pressure of everyday life.

A bit more information from documentation would not hurt in this book. Or a
description of why the author could not get to it. This way, there remains
a broken picture from the book cover:

Except if... maybe that's the only way possible? Mileva Maric was just that,
a broken existence?

Svetlana Hramova: "My wrong You"

My Russian, learned at times when there was no money for
mathematics and physics textbooks from the West in Yugoslavia, with time is
expanding to literature reading. During the recent visit to St. Petersburg,
I bought a book of the currently popular author in Russia, Svetlana Hramova.

It is a new time for Russia, so we have to finally move to its new literature,
away from the Cvetaeva, Ahmatova, Dostoevsky, and alike Saviours of the Soul
of the World.

The book "My wrong you" would be good for a crime scenario. "Life
coach", a young woman with a bit of personal history on the subject of
love and life, finds happiness with a man with which she should not spend
a minute, regarding her own rules. Love is happening in a minute, sex too.
The book is +18, but still, the emphasis is on emotional, not physical.

This work would not be much more than a romantic novel, if the author would not
mix into the text many comments and quotes from Simone de Beauvoir.

Simone was an icon of the feminism. In her life she gave her unconditional
love to only one man: American writer Nelson Algren, who gave her first
orgasm in life, sometime in her late 30's, and remained a lifelong love.

But she could not live with him, because she was needed to J.P. Sartre.

Hramova consider the life story of Simone an ultimate failure, a lack of
courage to take action, love and be loved. Woman in a novel does not make
such a mistake: she surrenders completely, immediately.

I know almost nothing about Simone de Beauvoir, but this seems to me a good
way to learn, through the fragments of her letters. Already with it this
booklet fulfilled its role.

In addition, she also gave me insight into post-feminism in Russia. This is
interesting in itself, because in social realism women had a very ... real
role, even in the Soviet Orthodox environment, they were not left to be only
a decoration in men's world.

This cultural jump was too big for only the 20th century, so it has a
continuation today.

Also, it was worth for a little update of my Russian. Now I'm ready for
some other book in that language. Whenever I can, I read the original,
even if I would need 5 times more time. It's a very good brain massage.

Ha ... last month I brought from home a bilingual edition of Lu Xun's "Ah Qu",
let's see you now, maestro, when will you manage to read THAT in the
original version?!

Capote's "Breakfast at Tiffany's"

This book for quite some time escaped my attention, but finally I got hold
of English original.

I feel Raymond Carver coming here, in the Capote's style. Telling a story seems so
easy in his execution. I also feel Boris Vian here, probably because of the
lightness of being of a main character.

It is a woman, a young girl in most of the story, escaping definition. Being
orphaned early and married at 14 (not in India, but outback USA, we are
speaking period just before the WWII), and later sweeping the world with
unbearable, youth irresponsibility, it is a perfect character. Not a beauty,
but an attractive personality, she is the one who could capture imagination.
And so she does, for some people who met her, and follow her story as much
as it is possible to follow.

I will not be re-telling the story here, it is a short one and charming to
read. I will rather ask myself why it is that such a character would halt our
mind in admiration? Is it because it is a personification of youth? Freedom
itself wandering the world?

Is it? She did not, obviously, have an easy life. But she kept the
lightness... so, is it the vitality, which captivates us? Eternal longing
for child in us, re-discovering good in the world every day, and ignoring
the bad?

I will leave it to you to decide, book is a good read.

I will only add here that Capote's short stories, of which there was an
example in four stories added to the thin volume I had, also seem to be
worth attention. It was a pleasure to read them, little jewels.

Coetzee's Barbarians

Reading J.M. Coetzee's "Waiting for the Barbarians" one can not escape the
reverend precursors: Cavafy and Buzatti.

The first wrote a poem which imprinted the Barbarians for ever in the stone
of our culture. The second played magnificently with the waiting itself,
Barbarians lost the importance.

Coetzee bravely put his foot in the door, already closing, to down on us his notion
of the Barbarians. No, it is not the tribes who are to smithen us into the
dust of our cities. No, it is not the wind hurling through crumbling
pyramids, after the last of the defenders falls. Not the flames of
Alexandria Library. It is not even ourselves, barbarized and inflicting the
doom of the Empire onto ourselves.

Barbarian is the Time, Barbarian is the ossification of Evil in us,
Barbarian is the knowledge and skill, when abused. Barbarian is the
gluttony, the hedonistic, Ego of ours, fed by the blind ...stupidity. And
cruelty, born of the degeneration, brought by the luxuries of the Empire.

Through a Magistrate of the Empire outpost, a benign, slow administrator,
Coetzee shows the hopeless nature of Good when it meets the Evil. It is
overriden, raped, exorcised to the level of being laughable.

A Magistrate is not without his guilt, but he was, as all benign creatures,
just doing his job, more or less successful. He becomes problematic at the
times of trouble, when the sickly torturers of the Empire come to effect.

Coetzee's Magistrate fells prey to his humanity: he is imprisoned and
ridiculed to the death of his old himself.

There is nothing surprising in the fall of the Magistrate. Those who are
high, fall low. What is more surprising is Coetzee's creation of the
another tenure for the fallen administrator.

Was it because of his humanity, being closer to nature than stiff
brutality with which the Third Bureau treated the opponents, creating them
in the course of "investigation", rather than trying to understand them?
Brutal force never tries to understand, it seeks to break, destroy. Humanity might
fail, but if given chance, it creates hope, it does not destroy it.

What about the case when there is no chance, when humanity plainly does not
help? It is wrong to think this way: it might not help against outside enemy,
but it is in fact the last resort of a falling Empire, it establishes its
moral right.

Even if it would remain only the empty letter in a chronicle,
it is worth maintaining it. Probably it goes back to Kant's "moral law in
us", which, however ancient it might seem, still prevails. Until we get
eaten for breakfast by some senseless heptapedic cosmic travellers.

Coetzee created a valuable addition to the notion of Barbarians. It is a dense read,
and I am yet to see how it withstands the battering by time, but I am, indeed, impressed by his writing skills. A master.

Yan Pradeau: "Algèbre"

"Maths is fun!", often exclaims over-eager (usually young) teacher, and
people tend to shrug at her/him and turn to their infinitely more interesting
gossip or politics or trade-exchange pages.

But in France, mathematics is serious business since centuries, and French
school, by its personalities, certainly IS fun, indeed.

Recently I had pleasure to read Yan Pradeau's "Algèbre", a short booklet
about one of most controversial French mathematicians of the XX
century-Alexander Grothendieck. As it often goes, he was also one of the
best mathematical minds of XX ct.

About him even to say "French" is over-statement, as he
was barely French, acquiring the nationality only at older age (in 1980-ies,
and he was born in 1928, in then Prussia). Most of his life he was
stateless, as his documents were destroyed in 1945, and he was reluctant to
obtain the other nationality, because of conscription obligation.

Following his parents, he was of an anarchist and pacifist political
orientation. His father, A. Schapiro was of a Hassidic Jewish origin, from
the borders of Ukraina, Belarus and Russia, and mather was of a German
protestant origin (his surname is by her). Both were from a rather bourgeois
background, but were declared, and fighting, anarchists of the leftist colors.

Alexander was a mathematical autodidact, and he brought novel generalizations
in geometry and algebra after the WWII. One thing which is well exposed in
the book, and which I was not aware of before, is that in the world wars
expired whole generations of mathematicians, and there remained a profound
vacuum in moderinzation of the discipline in the XX ct. Works of people like
A.G., alone and through group Bourbaki which was organized to promote the
program of novelization of mathematics, were instrumental in this. A.G. was
a kind of celebrity in French mathematical world in 1960-ies and 1970-ies.

Genius had it's price here, A.G. became more and more controversial in
1970-ies, fighting against militarization of the society in the Cold War.
In 1980-ies he completely abandoned the society, secluding
himself in a mountain village of few ten inhabitants. But he was not idle,
he was productive in "philosophical" writing of dubious value.

There is lots in the story about Groethedieck which is new to me, and I will
try to learn more about group Bourbaki. I was not aware of the program they
pursued, and their achievements. And today in Physics we often use results
of their work.

It is a kind of irony that I was recently living in the place where was important
centre of this movement-in Orsay, near Paris, and nearby Burres-sur Yvette,
and I did not know anything about this part of the history of the place.
The very paths I was walking, running or biking, were taken by those people,
not so long time ago. It certainly added an additional spice to my reading, as
also the fact that it was my 2nd book read in French.

Definitely a good read, I warmly recommend it.

Myrna Zezza's "How to build a Lasting, Loving Relationship"

Reading self-development handbooks is not my usual treat. Well, sometimes
one has to give them a chance. Recommended by a good friend, who is a
therapeutist herself, I gave a chance to Myrna Mazzola Zezza's "How to build
a Lasting, Loving Relationship". Subtitled, totally appropriately,
"The blueprint you were never given".

True is that we learn a pile of knowledges in school, and in private life we
learn how to plant flowers, drive bicycle, motrocycle or a car, repair
engines, build houses etc., but we never get any significant instruction on
how to make a successful relationship. At most we get a life-instruction how
NOT to do it, by our parents or, through trial and error exercise,
ourselves.

Myrna Zezza gave a complete, step-by-step guide through the process.

I was drawn to a book, when checking about it online on recommendation of my
friend, by the model for relationship which was used: a house. Building a
house of love, writer teaches us about importance of fundament, walls and
roof. She does not forget about cement, glues and all what holds it
together, she even thinks of catastrophes, critters and insurance!

Building of self-esteem is also an important part of our relationship with
others.

Model is like this: foundation is Communication, walls are: Common purpose and
values, Trust, Appreciation and Clear agreements. Roof is Commitment.

Love is nails, screws, bolts and glue (obviously an American house in warmer
parts of USA-author herself lives in Hawaii), holding the house together.

Basements and interior spaces are also important, those are different
arrangements a couple makes in their daily life about work and spending free
time, still preserving the core of their relationship.

Termites and other critters can easily destroy even the best house if not
eradicated effectively, so any misunderstanding or trouble should also be fast and
effectively removed from an relationship.

Homeowners insurance is something what in relationship is given by a support
group like family, colleagues, friends... Author even finds, at the end, a
place foe House blessing, which might be a wedding, but can be any other
ritual a couple chooses. Most of us usually starts from this...but it is not
by chance, I believe, given at the end of this book. Life is a learning
process, all through.

When definitely too American that I would really like it, this book is a good
guide. I might comment away in my head some sentences as "eh, easy to write
this in California or Hawaii, come to Balkans!", but since the book is
addressed to a developing individual, not given as a school of thought or
perception of reality, we are free to take from it what we find useful. And
it is really a trove of useful points about each of us and relationships in
which we enter, often without really knowing what we want from it, or how to
achieve what we want.

Ph.K.Dick's "VALIS"

On my conquest of PKD's world, with reading of "The man in the high
castle", "Ubik" and "Do the androids dream of electric sheep", I took on his
"VALIS"=Vast Active Living Intelligence System.

It starts benign, a psychedelic world of 1960-ies, with only some glimpses
of danger, enrolled in weird names of the characters, like Horselover Fat or
Mother Goose.

Then it bores one immensely through almost Jehowah Witness-like boredom of
religious blobbering through hundred or more pages-here I almost threw it
away, really. I do not think I met the writer (or the editor) who would not
cut out such a ghastly nonsense, even if it would occur to anyone to
actually write such stuff down!

Luckily I was patient, as at the end of a tunnel, there came a light! And
patient I was, indeed! The writing seemed as if an adept of mish-mash of
Christianity, Buddhism and Gibbon did not succed to come up to digest the
Message for the lazy American reader. Such a reader would not dare to read
Caesar directly, but preferred to look, with some curiosity, at the vomit of
it after the painful burps of the afore-mentioned adept.

So, after nonsensical, psychopatologic religious bullshit of a pity character
bent after his feeling of guilt for not being able to help to his
energetic vampire friends to survive their psichological or body illness,
story started to be interesting.

That is, if we can consider actual waking up to the world in which the Christ
himself is alive and kickin' somewhere in California, and the cypher from
apostolic Christians from Roman times finds the audience in the time of
Vietnam war. The society is formed, which consists of four individuals, who
cram to the airplane to visit the Christ, and who just happen to gather unter
the motto "Fish can not use guns".

Oh ghosh. Just writing it on paper is ridiculous, no?

Well, obviously not completely, if it comes from a master writer like PKD.
I survived through reading it for (too) many a page, carried by a sheer hope
that scores of people who claimed it to be a good work, were not complete
idiots, or that it all was not just an internet scam of the bigot Jehowah
Witnesses.

Towards the end of the first volume of Valis, there is a beautiful story of
2 year old girl Sophia, who herself seems to be a voice of God. Not "seems",
she IS a voice of god, she knows things nobody else could now. PKD gives
some of his most hillarious lines here, pure joy to read!

Sophia eventually dies accidentally, or chose to die accidentally, but there
is a new child to be born, from the same parents-who are crazy weirdos, but
seem to have a place in the cosmic maze. The Rhipidon society is closely
following.

At the end of the book is a list of 50 premises of the World and definitions
which are supposedly put there to help, but they rather scared me. They are
obviously a make of crack-pot. No discussion. I am quite afraid to go to the
2nd book of Valis, but probably I will be persistent, as I usually am, to
fathom the depths of Horselover Fat.

Gombrowicz's "Pornografia"

Continuation of my re-reading of Gombrowicz.
In "Pornografia" he is at his best, intentially
controversial and bulversing. It is amazing to see
how he constructs the pervert tension of old against-or
along-the young.

Author creates the twisted reality of the story through
actions of older guys towards a younger couple. Which is
the more pervert: marriage of old guy to a much younger
girl, or their action, which in effect, prevents it? Older
guys try to make young couple into lovers, although themselves
are not even thinking about it, being friends from childhood.
The reason for such action of older guys is that they would
like themselves to couple with young, but since they can not,
then at least they try to sublimate their will through action
on them.

Gombrowicz would not be himself if he would be simple:
there is a parallel story of Polish reality in WWII, when
AK (Armia Krajowa=National Army), which is different than
AL (Armia Ludowa=People's Army), acts against one of its
detractors. It was not a little to write about AK in 1950-ies,
as its role was negated by communist government-the only heroic
army could be the Red Army of USSR. Again, today it is all
too easy to forget the historical reality of Gombrowicz's
writing.

"Cosmos" and "Pornografia" are essential Gombrowicz. In
them he creates (erotic) reality of usual things and events, and uses
it to build tension in the fabric of that reality. Masterpieces which
only a tense mind like his could produce.

Coetzee's "Diary of a Bad Year"

This is a diary of strong opinions. Author presents it as a series of essays on
free topics, with the self-censorship turned "OFF".

Coetzee is an South African writer living in Australia. The main character
of this book is an esteemed Australian writer of foreign air, so much so
that the beauty he fell for calls him Senor, as if he would be of South
American origin.

That the book would not be simply boring, a litany of musings of a boring
over-intellectualized old prick, author spiced it with real life: a hot
chick. An inovative move in the book, like a magician's stick adding
something of a Peter Pan in the story.

It starts with the introduction part where the strong opinion about
origins of the state, terrorism (it is dated 2005 to 2006) or anarchy is
presented along with trivia from his everyday life. After some 20 pages,
the hot chick gets the bottom of the page for herself. Then it becomes,
page by page, a three-fold story. At the end, she takes two of the three
windows of the page, in one conversing with the author, in another with her
boyfriend or herself.

Most of the text is by the old prick who could not do anything else with the
hot chick than to employ her as a typist. His hands tremble too much, his
other organ would not tremble even with heap of Viagra, but his brain is as
attentive to a woman beauty as a man's brain can be.

A woman shows to be not an empty shell. Her boyfriend, with whom
she lives in the same buliding as the author, is a predator investment
consultant. He shows also to be an emotional predator, and encounter with
the Senor, in effect, produces their split.

The (platonic) relationship between the author and his typist introduces new
vistas, and affects their lives. The relationship is real life, blood and smiles.

Interesting texts, innovative methods... Coetzee is not in vain one of most esteemed
authors in English literature. His biography itself is amazing, definitely worth
reading, check it online.

Gombrowicz's "Cosmos"

In my re-reading of Gombrowicz, I came to "Cosmos". It is a very Polish story
in its topic and form. But, as Gombrowicz likes (or has) to do, it is breaking
of the world in pieces. Reading the meaning of sparrow corpse
hanged in the bush, an arrow in a ceiling (is it an arrow in a ceiling?),
reading its pointing (or not?)... it is like reading a horoscope. Or not
reading it, but making it.

It is obvious that Gombrowicz is close to quite an absurd theater, a child
of his time. If there would not be a WWII, which extracted and exaltation
and a decision from him (to dupe the pathetic patriotism and remain
himself), Gombrowicz would not have to bear the weight which was not crafted
for him. He could remain a rather abnormal Polish writer, and enjoy the air of
worldliness. He could die not too far from his birth place, eventually. But,
since he WAS pushed to an extreme, and had balls to follow it, he became a weirdo
in a life, not a theater, of absurd. In which people behaved much more insane
than any of the characters in his drama!

Gombrowicz does not need a defence, his works explains him the best. Most of
the mediocre mass who criticised, or ridiculed him, is long forgotten. He is,
and will be, recognized as an unique bard, trubadour of insanity of
closed or open door, turning wheel or pointing of the pinky.