Jaci: Book number two, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, is complete!  And early, RIGHT BEN??

Ben: Stieg is an exciting writer–I couldn’t put it down because I kept wanting to see what happened next, so I kind of tore through it in way less than the allotted 3 weeks. Really, three weeks was a lot for this book, but I did pace myself somewhat, because I managed to stretch it to two weeks.

Jaci: I learned from my Kindle complaints during the last book–remembering that it was hard to flip back, the first thing I did was draw out the family tree from the early pages.  The notebook really came in handy.  And I found that I appreciate the anonymity the Kindle provides–when reading a book both wildly popular and gruesomely violent, I was happier not to converse about it with random strangers at the airport during my many hours waiting to board a red-eye to Maryland.

Ben: Jaci had a surprise visit home! But she discovered that my notebook was unused. My excuse is that I’m a reader, not an English major! Speaking of gruesomely violent (like when Jaci discovered the unused notebook…), towards the end of the book, I became less thrilled with the violence. Jaci mentioned that the original title was “Men who Hate Women”, and this is probably an apt description of the book, and while I’m desensitized to a lot of different kinds of violence thanks to TV, Stieg manages to properly shock you, and gives you an apprehension and disgust that takes talent to describe. The book attempts to take the edge off with humor and romance, but some sections were still tough on me.

Jaci: I didn’t make nearly as many notes for this book as I did for the last.  But I did use it as a meditation on translation.  The book isn’t exactly what most people would call “literary,” but I am a professed reading snob (and read like one–can’t help it), and it’s hard to know who to blame for, say, more than one cruise missile metaphor in a single chapter.  (Because someone must be blamed, sayeth the word nerd!)  And I also tended to wonder about cultural references.  The translator seems to have done a good job keeping the book as firmly grounded in Sweden as possible, and yet, at times I ask–when a reference to the Addams Family appears, is it because the Addams Family is culturally significant in Sweden or because the translator translated a cultural reference?  Considering my entire knowledge of Sweden is based on this book (which made Swedish prison sound like a writers’ colony retreat), a photograph of a farmstead at the local Noodles & Company (looks a lot like North Dakota), and some gifts Ben brought me after his Adobe Air Tour trip (tasty jam!  tiny painted horses!) I can honestly say I may be not just a bad but the worst person to judge.

Ben: I have actually been to Sweden! So I was amused at many references; in fact, I would argue that the translation was better than normal, simply because of the things that remained untranslated. For instance, holiday names were all untranslated, and the translator felt no burden with assisting English speakers with place names and Swedish proper names. It almost assumed a familiarity with Sweden that was very enjoyable, and also gave non-Swedish readers an education about Sweden without being overly pretentious about it. Jaci’s right, though, it is no literary masterpiece, but it is a good, quick, entertaining read. Jaci prefers to come out of a book being a better person for having read the book–which I suppose is a good thing. However, I like to be entertained by books more than anything else.

Jaci: I would classify this book as amusing, and I can understand why it was popular.  The real question: will we be reading the entire Millennium series?

Ben: Well, I’m interested and not interested in the rest of the Millennium series; interested because I want to find out more about the main character who is a hacker. She didn’t seem to be developed as well as she could have been in the first book, even though she was the girl with the dragon tattoo. Uninterested, because I don’t really want to put myself through the discomfort of reading descriptions of sexual violence.

Jaci: Next up: Ben’s most dreaded book on the list, Dead Souls by Gogol.  Lucky for him it is short (and we’ll actually be together when we’re reading it due to some scheduling vagaries that worked out in our favor).  It will be interesting to read another translated work, especially since the translation I chose wasn’t really a choice at all–only the Hogarth translation was available for Kindle at the time I put the list together.  Russian absurdist literature?  Given Ben’s affinity for French existential literature, I think he may enjoy it more than he expects.

The Lazarus Project (Cover)

Jaci: As the first of the thirteen books on the bookclub list gathers up its threads and ties them in tidy bows, I find myself very satisfied with both the novel and the bookclub’s success so far. The best part about it is that Ben and I have things to talk about that aren’t his thesis or my work, each of which take up such a large portion of the hours of our many days spent apart.

Ben: Jaci mentioned to me that there is actual science behind the book club–psychology says that couples that share mental space like this can span long distance relationships and become closer. It was a bit of a surprise, how important this was to me; instead of feeling helpless or separated, I can go grab the book of the week and keep my sanity. It’s more than just something extra to talk about, it’s a replacement for all the little things a person has to do on a daily basis to maintain a relationship.

Jaci: In order to fully occupy the psychic space we’ve set aside for each other, I find myself reading more deeply than I have since I left behind the fortress of academia for my floating fortress. The Lazarus Project was a good choice for book one–both literary and very readable (it’s one of the few on the list we chose without much debate or any sort of trade-off, which was why I placed it where I did).

Ben: It’s also helped my personal discipline! I’m not exactly a morning person, and with my busy days, I find it hard to get up before 6:15, which is the latest I can get up to do my morning routine and get to work by 8. Reading every morning gives me a reason to get up at 5, have some coffee, and get my day off on the right foot. The Lazarus Project was a good start because it’s not putting me to sleep when I’m reading so early and half awake! (Thank goodness we didn’t start with Gogol…)

Jaci: In some ways, it’s as though we are together, in 1908 Chicago or in eastern Europe circa today, or at least in Aleksandar Hemon’s versions of these places. This means, of course, that over the next several months we’ll be traveling to some very strange lands together, including (if memory serves) a few brief trips to Mars towards the end of the journey.

Ben: I’m really feeling connected to Brik (the main character). He has me in stitches, and he constantly says out loud what I’m thinking. His perspective on his marriage with an American, white, Catholic neurosurgeon really reminds me of the things I’m thinking in my own marriage. I wonder if the married life commentary has the same resonance with Jaci. Knowing that we’re reading the same things and at least getting the same input makes me read the book in a whole new way. I’m even embarrassed about the time in brothels because it’s weird to be there with your wife!

Jaci: I also like looking at the notebook I decorated for a few minutes before and after I start reading. The first few pages are already filled with notes, questions, observations. To be frank, however, I live in a paranoic haze, worried that my Kindle will somehow be broken in my semi-rough living conditions.

Ben: Ah, Jaci is going to get a little English teacher resistance from me here. Jaci isn’t in a place where she is reading and taking notes every day… but I am. I’ve been reading for enjoyment rather than taking notes or making observations. I feel like Jaci is going to make me pay eventually when she starts bringing up specifics, but I have a hard copy, so I can always flip through the book, whereas Jaci can’t with the Kindle!

Jaci: Ah, the Kindle. I love the dictionary feature, but I miss being able to flip back and review previously read pages with ease! Especially in a book like this, a book which is constructed as an echo chamber with two stories interlacing in subtle but significant ways, it would be nice to flip back to the third page of the second chapter where I remember seeing something (instead of finding location ####, which I will not remember when I get to it’s twin in a later passage). But it’s compact, it’s simple, and it’s working. Like the bookclub.

Ben: It’s kind of sad that Jaci has better electronics kit than I do, especially in a place without too much network connections. Meanwhile I’m back in the seventeenth century with mine! Someone get me an iPad!

It’s what you have all (all two or three of you) been waiting for…it’s the syllabus!  Click the hyperlink to download a PDF version, or see below for Ben’s shiny HTML rendition.

Driving home with the six books we had to purchase in actual (as opposed to virtual) copy, Ben called me a kid in a candy store.

Hers-and-His notebooks.

The notebook backs

When one is forced to face down the possibility–the inbound reality–of months apart from a loved one, one seeks ways to stay connected.  Letters long ruled as the king of connection; email is today’s parchment and plume, but we lose something in the transition from penmanship to pixels.  (Stay with me, I can alliterate all day.)  Care packages, while welcome, are a one-way communique.  (Rhyme!)  At pre-deployment briefs, would-be helpers offer discounted “flat daddies” that can be placed at the meal table to take the place of the missing three-dimensional version.

Mail at sea can be greatly delayed, along with care packages of hopefully well-preserved goodies; email can be shut down or lost for a variety of reasons; and I somehow think Ben would find a “flat daddy” more discomfiting than not.

My solution?

Ben and I are creating a bookclub for two.

I filled out this idea yesterday, while reading about “common reading” programs on college campuses, though some version of it has been percolating in my egghead for months.  The idea at university is that inbound freshman have at least one book in common–something to unite them and serve as a source of conversation.  My idea is that Ben and I, by reading the same books at the same time, will be carrying on a sort of psychic conversation through the nexus of the words we’re experiencing together.  Even if email goes down and it’s a month or more between mail deliveries, even if I can’t make an outgoing phone call or tweet a single word, in some way, we’ll be joined.

Of course, our very different tastes in reading makes picking books a fraught operation.  We want anywhere from eight to fifteen books; right now, we’ve agreed on four (E.M. Forster’s A Passage to India, Aleksandar Hemon’s The Lazarus Project, Daniel Saurez’s Daemon, and Robert A. Heinlein’s Stranger in a Strange Land).  One of our “rules”–that anything we pick must be available on the Kindle due to my space limitations–has only compounded the problem.  We dropped the rule that all books must be new reads for both of us (which allowed two of our choices).  Most likely, it will take a few trips to the bookstore in the end, since we’ve pretty effectively shopped our own shelves at this point.

What else remains to make the bookclub a success?

-More books (obviously).

-A syllabus…I’ll take care of that!

-Notebooks.  We’ll each jot down a few thoughts on the books we read together, especially when our communication lines fail, so that we don’t forget the things we each want to discuss.

-A reining in of my book snobbishness, and a slowing down to savoring speed in Ben’s reading habits.  We’ll meet in the middle.

I plan to post the full list of books and syllabus as a guide for others who want to try this gambit to close the miles during long times apart.  Take that, sword.

The Changing Identity of South Asian Guyanese

During our many Christmastime conversations, the question of my graduate thesis came up.  Ben, in an urge to experiment with self-publishing and happening to know I had a fairly polished hundred pages, put this together back in 2008 and made it available via Lulu.  He designed the cover art and wrote the blurbage as well (basically, everything required to make it accessible).

Mom Bengfort, in particular, advocated for making sure that this paper was available to those interested in the topic.  If I do say so myself (and definitionally, I do), while it isn’t groundbreaking anthropology or breathtaking Shakespeare, the extensive bibliography would be very useful to any student of Guyanese anthropology, sociology, history, or literature.

In any case, if you’re here at Bengfort.com, statistically you are here for the cookbook.  So this is, in essence, a classic “But wait!  There’s more!”  Consider this your invitation to sit down with a nice spread of dahl, roti, pumpkin, and armchair anthropology.

http://www.lulu.com/content/2742903

Yesterday, per Devi’s suggestion, I started reading Fair Play by James Olson, a book on the moral and ethical issues surrounding intelligence gathering.

While I will offer a comprehensive review of the entire book when I am finished, I think that the book asks some interesting questions that deserve individual attention and analysis. The book is set up as a series of scenarios where the reader has to decide whether the act is morally justified, and then contains responses from people in various fields analyzing the situation. As the book suggests that the reader “reach his or her own conclusion- yea or nay- after each scenario, before reading the opinions of the commentators,” and “try to respond instinctively as you would if you were a senior policy maker or intelligence officer and had to approve or disprove the operation,” I’ve decided to blog my initial reactions before continuing reading, then see if my mind changes when I listen to the arguments. I would also like to hear your thoughts!

**Disclaimer** The few (of many) scenarios I choose to blog about are the property of the author, James Olson, and are entirely fictional. The analysis I present, however, is entirely my own, and does not represent the author’s point of view. For more background information and analysis, please read the book!

Scenario 1:

“Rolando Montemayor is a Cuban Direccion General de Inteligencia (DGI) officer under cover as a second secretary at the Cuban mission to the United Nations in New York. He previously served in the Cuban embassy in Madrid, Spain, where the CIA successfully ran a double agent operation against him. The double agent, a young Spanish Communist journalist, reported to his CIA case officer that he strongly suspected that Montemayor was homosexual.

When Montemayor moves to New York, the CIA passes its information on him to the FBI. The FBI and CIA agree to conduct a joint operation against Montemayor in New York in an effort to recruit him as a penetration of the DGI. The FBI surveillance of Montemayor indicates that he frequents gay bars in New York and engages in promiscuous homosexual sex. Using telephone taps and infrared photography, the FBI acquires incontrovertible evidence of Montemayor’s homosexual activities. Homosexuality is grounds for dismissal from the DGI, and Montemayor has carefully concealed his sexual orientation from his family, friends, and colleagues.

Would it be morally acceptable for the CIA and FBI to attempt to recruit Montemayor by blackmailing him on the basis of his homosexuality?” (46)

I have to say that in my initial reaction about a million thoughts ran through my head at once. The first was that in the United States both blackmail and discrimination based on sexual orientation are illegal, for good reason, and that because Montemayor did not pose an immediate threat or we had reason to believe he held vital information there really was no justification (if there ever is) for breaking the law. My second thought was that, as a spy, he knew exactly what he was getting into and how compromising (in his CHOSEN occupation) homosexual behavior was, and yet he chose to recklessly (and very conspicuously at that) engage in it anyway. I’m not saying that Cuban sexual discrimination is right, I’m just saying that if you are Cuban, and homosexual, why would you get involved in as dangerous, politically charged and secretive an occupation as espionage? I mean seriously. You had it comin’. Don’t hate the player, player, hate the game.

My third reaction, however, and the one I’m sticking with, was that the whole operation seemed pointless. You are effectively blackmailing a spy into becoming a double agent, which to me does not seem to make good intelligence, given the particular nature of double agents and the sensitivity and skill they require. Threatening to out someone does not a good agent make; they lack the loyalty or any sort of positive incentive to cooperate. Instead, use the information to your advantage- find your man a boyfriend in New York (or even a gay undercover agent; after all, they aren’t illegal in the United States, and Cuba wouldn’t see it coming!) and use HIS sexy wiles to elicit the needed incentives for double agency. Voila! A much more legal, and solid, operation.

Thoughts?

Tonight, we have a mission.

Tonight, I must write a blog post…and thereby earn a bottle of Champagne.

The quote at the top comes from the excellent novel The Manual of Detection by Jedediah Berry, of which I have at this juncture read precisely 51%, according to the reading machine that Champagne-wielding husband of mine purchased me for the Christmas holiday.

I also highly recommend The Widow Clicquot, a biography of Veuve Clicquot, by Tilar J. Mazzeo.  A bit thin on evidence, but what she lacks in details of the woman herself, she makes up for in reams of delightful Champagne facts.  I read this one thanks to my local library.

Other recently enjoyed reads via reading machine:

The Year of the Flood, a novel by Margaret Atwood.  A companion to Oryx and Crake, a novel my copy of which I ironically lost in what I have dubbed the “Ben’s-truck-trunk-book-flooding-incident,” this is a fantastic post-apocalyptic tale by (in my opinion) one of the most astounding authors writing in English today.  I recommend not only these but the many others by her I have read–The Blind Assassin, The Edible Woman, The Robber Bride, The Handmaid’s Tale (don’t bother with the film), and her short story collection Good Bones are all excellent, and utterly engaging.

The Lacuna, by Barbara Kingsolver.  Orwellian in theme, but in ways both more subtle and more direct, she looks to the past to spin a novel of fiction from facts.  I must give props to KPLU 88.5, my local NPR affiliate, for alerting me to this novel.  (In fact, I owe that radio station for one book, one pre-ordered book, two cds and a single that I have purchased in the last month, all with great success and all, incidentally, via download.)

The Little Stranger, by Sarah Waters.  This one, a sort of neo-Gothic horror story set in postwar Britain, had me scared to stop reading–on more than one occasion, I simply read until I fell asleep, because I could only achieve calm through complete brain shutdown.  At one point, reading in bed with husband and dog, a sort of normal and banal rattling sound came from the general vicinity of the garage.  Winston, predictably, woofed–and I, unexpectedly, shrieked.  Just a little, but still, Ben has made fun of me for a week.

And finally, I will admit that the reading machine in question, Amazon’s Kindle, was probably the best gift I’ve ever received that I didn’t want.  My reading rate has gone from the odd book, here and there, to nearly grade-school levels again (when reading was my primary activity, I stayed up late under the covers every night, and leaving a book in progress felt like breaking an enchantment or waking from a deep sleep).  So, Ben, you win.

But now I’ve written a blog post, so I win too!  “The Devil’s in the details…”

So I figured out how to combine two of my New Years’ Resolutions; read more, and blog more, thus- a book review blog! I felt for a while like my ideas were stagnating because living in DC doesn’t have as many cultural quirks as living in Italy did (I’m pretty sure we’re all familiar with the American culture) so I decided that my blog needed a theme. Thus, I’m going to review a few of the things I read, and maybe throw in a movie or two if I’m impressed (or entirely unimpressed).

The first book up is World on Fire by Amy Chua.

World on Fire by Amy Chua

In World on Fire, Amy Chua contends that the two main forces of globalization aggressively pursued by Western countries, namely, market liberalization and democratization, contribute to and in some cases bring about serious ethnic conflict and global instability. This is due to the two policies’ simultaneous effect of increasing inequality and subsequently hatred for market-dominant ethnic minorities, while at the same time empowering the poor majority to react, often resulting in violence or severe oppression of the minority. Chua explains it thus, “The global spread of free market democracy has thus been a principal, aggravating cause of ethnic instability and violence through the non-Western world. In country after country outside the West laissez-faire markets have magnified the often astounding wealth and economic prominence of an ‘outsider’ minority, generating great reservoirs of ethnic envy and resentment among the impoverished ‘indigenous’ majority…democratization, by increasing the political voice and power of the ‘indigenous’ majority, has fostered the emergence of demagogues who opportunistically whip up mass hatred against the resented minority. As a result, in its raw, for-export form, the pursuit of free market democracy outside the West has repeatedly led not to widespread peace and prosperity, but to ethnic confiscation, authoritarian backlash, and mass killing.” (187-88) Chua proceeds to describe a series of examples in which a program of market liberalization in combination with democratization, usually backed by the West, has led to either severe ethnic conflict or political backlash. From the Philippines and Yugoslavia to Nazi Germany and even Anti-Americanism, Chua applies her framework to conflicts both past and present.

In a purely informational sense, Chua’s book is an enjoyable, interesting and pleasant read.  After an emotional and attention-grabbing introduction describing the death of a beloved Aunt, purportedly due to the consequences her thesis describes, Chua segues into the deeper context of her argument. Her first two sections come across as a sort of history lesson through a series of descriptions, references and loose figures. Like a good history textbook, Chua begins her chapters with a humorous or enlightening anecdote, followed by some background information, a brief description of the current setting, and finally a reiteration of the issues. The book continues this way both throughout the globe and throughout time, her arguments getting progressively less robust, increasingly more flexible and even extrapolating to places that have only one or two of the three characteristics her thesis describes (market dominant ethnic minorities, economic liberalization, and democratization). In this way, her third section seems like the tagline for an infomercial- “But wait, there’s more!”- as she attempts to reconcile her thesis with intra-city conflicts in the United States, anti-Americanism, Nazism, and the current crisis in the Middle East. What Chua doesn’t realize is that the further she extrapolates and attempts to convince readers of her argument’s global (and national, in the case of the United States) relevance, the further she alienates those who were sold to her argument in the first place.

This argument by itself seems simplistic and logical. It makes sense that in countries where the vast majority of the population live in dire poverty, and those that do hold most of the wealth are of a noticeably different skin color, culture or ethnicity, ethnic conflict would result. It also makes sense that the greater the inequality between these peoples the more conflict and hatred there would be, and if free markets do in fact exacerbate these inequalities it might even be a direct consequence. While it is much less obvious, it also makes sense that a form of government that empowers the angry majority without protecting the rights of the minority can and often does lead to civil conflict or oppressive majoritarian policies. The way Amy Chua frames her book it seems like she is simply trying to describe a phenomenon rather than prove a thesis, much as a history book might say what happened in a particular era and offer several plausible suggestions as to why this might have occurred. The anecdotal and descriptive style of writing leaves no room for alternative interpretations; each example is specifically framed for her argument, and there are no competing explanations or variables that she is including or comparing against. If the point of the book is that she is simply trying to prove that these effects of occur, the lack of scientific methodology severely undermines her claim. A better approach might be to gather a set of recent conflicts or transition governments and see how the variables of market-dominant minorities, the gini coefficient, perceived ethnocentrism, and democratization (including the various levels of democratization, considering that “democracy” is debatable in many of the examples she gives) affect the outcome. This would make her results much more scientifically robust and offer solid proof.

It seems, however, that instead of trying to prove her thesis she is merely trying to describe a phenomenon that is the most likely explanation for several events throughout the world. She transitions easily from example to example, reiterating her point of view and showing how each scenario fits in the context of her argument. Given that her information is accurate, her conclusions seem logical, and aside from a few very interesting history lessons it seems no major ideological breakthroughs are made. Perhaps it is simply the mark of a great writer, but Chua’s observations and conclusions seem obvious. She is not trying to prove a hypothesis as much as she is saying something is true and providing anecdotal examples as supporting evidence. The question then becomes what the point of her writing this is. If it is not to methodologically prove the relationship between free market democracy and ethnic conflict for sheer academic value, then what is it? To raise awareness? To explore possible solutions? To disprove prior theories?

That question is exactly what the reader has in mind after two hundred pages of this message being reinforced. In logical terms, it seems that she spends her entire book defending a premise without drawing a conclusion.  In fact, some of the logical conclusions that could be drawn she rather obviously avoids discussing, even in the most narrow of terms. It seems that in her avoidance of drawing judgments from her work, either because of her reluctance to make broad claims or timidity in saying anything controversial, she discredits or completely diminishes the value of her work. Even one of her most obvious answers, that the United States should stop promoting simultaneous intense market reform and immediate democratization in countries with market-dominant ethnic minorities, she refuses to say directly. Instead, she states, “First, the best economic hope for developing and post-socialist countries lies in some form of market-generated growth. Second, the best political hope for these countries lies in some form of democracy, with constitutional constraints, tailored to local realities. And third, avoiding ethnic oppression and bloodshed must be a constant priority. But if these goals are to be achieved- if global free market democracy is to be peaceably sustainable- then the problem of market-dominant minorities, however unsettling, must be confronted head-on.” (263-264) She then goes on to state feeble policy recommendations that may help remedy these problems, most on the part of the corrupt and often unstable governments that have very limited incentive to do so. By the end it almost feels as if she herself does not believe there is a good solution, and just spent the entire book discussing the problem.

In the end, Amy Chua’s book is a delightfully informative, logically sound (for the most part) and enlightening read. Like many other books, it does well in debunking the neoclassical myth that free market democracy in the purest sense is the answer to all the world’s problems and an invincible catchall policy. This, however, is not a new concept, and in the absence of any further conclusion or salient recommendation Chua’s book fails to be anything but mildly thought-provoking.

Fool by Christopher Moore

“There’s always a bloody ghost, inninit?” It was very difficult for me to stop laughing after reading (the audible.com version on my iPod) Fool by Christopher Moore. I know reviews are few and far between on this site- but this book was so entertaining, I had to recommend it to you. To sum up (and you know as a former English major, and married to an English major, I don’t say this lightly): if Will were around today, he would have busted a gut laughing from the sheer hilarity. Truly, this book pays excellent homage (and only a little bit of fromage)  to the nature and spirit of Shakespearean comedy.

So what does Fool have to do with Shakespeare? Well, Fool is a parody of Shakespeare’s King Lear, written from the perspective of one of the more minor characters: the court jester (the fool). If its been a while since you have read King Lear- think Shakespearean historical tragedy- ghosts, betrayal, and royal intrigue.

The basic plot of the original is this: King Lear, getting old, decides to give his kingdom to his daughters. Being rather vain- he decides to parcel it out according to how much his daughters love him and he asks them as much. His two older (read: evil) daughters, Regan and Goneril give him as much flattery and praise as they can to win a half the kingdom each, but his youngest daughter Cordelia sees through them and refuses to participate, and is so banished to be married to King Geoff of France, even though she actually is the daughter that loves her father the most. Of course, both Regan and Goneril turn on the king in their ever increasing greed, but through the manipulations of Edward of Gloucester (a bastard heir to the Duke of Gloucester) , the two daughters are pitted against each other to their eventual downfall.  Pretty standard tragedy, and a piece of excellent literary work as is everything by Will.

Moore follows the plot of the original with a few slight historical and literary alterations to the effect of changing the tragedy into a bawdy comedy (at one point the characters even discuss whether the story is a comedy or a tragedy). And when I saw bawdy: I don’t mean school children are taught that Shakespearean comedy is bawdy and they don’t get it; I mean the book is full of monkey spunk, ghost shagging, wart-bummed witches, and all manner of prank and villainy. The puns are hilarious, and as long as you are ready for a PG-13 read, you will be rolling on the floor soon enough. What made Fool even funnier for me- is the use of modern English language in the context of 11th century England. Note- that you Americans will have to understand English slang, but since my stint bar tending in a pub, I was well prepared. Given that Moore is an American, it makes it that much more funny.

So my dear reader, head to the library or the bookstore and pick up Fool, by Christopher Moore- the adventures of Pocket the Fool will entertain you in no small measure!

In the musical “Aida,” the pharaohess begins her narration with the line “Every story is a love story.” In China, I would have to argue that “every story is a sad story.” In the course of my East Asian Studies classes, I have read several translated Chinese novels by such famous authors as Lao She, Mo Yan, Lu Xun, and Ma Jian, and I am now embarking on a new adventure, reading my first Chinese novel in Chinese. It seems that all of these writers love to embrace the tragic. In fact, most Chinese authors I’ve read, including the celebrated Chinese-American author Amy Tan, describe the most extreme of sorrowful situations… horrible deaths (such as drowning in a vat of feces), social or political injustice, suicide, abuse and beatings, mothers drowning babies, starvation and dire poverty, even cannibalism. Needless to say, there has been a lot of cruelty, injustice, and suffering in the course of human history, no matter what civilization, that deserves attention. What I don’t understand is that I have not once come across a Chinese novel that is not absolutely tragic. The book I am reading now is called the Age of Tattoos. I have only read the first 12 pages, but this is what has happened so far: Pregnant woman falls through frozen lake on her way to night shift at a Lime factory. Somehow she gives birth in the icy water and manages to save the infant before she dies (by page 2). By page 5, that infant, who is now nine years old, is hit by a train and has his leg amputated. That nine year old’s older brother is partially responsible, and the father beats him relentlessly. Older brother decides to take revenge on father, has his gang of friends beat up his own father. Then the brother’s gang gets in a fight with another gang, and the older brother is stabbed multiple times until his intestines are falling out. He dies.

Anyway, that’s as far as I have read, and I’m almost afraid to continue. It can only get better from here, right?

My theory is that in the West, we love to live vicariously. Watching people on TV with lives better than our own is a way of gaining a little bit of pleasure. I feel that in China it is the reverse, watching or reading about characters with lives much more miserable than your own is a way of making you life seem relatively good. I’ll have to test out this theory.

In the meantime, enjoy your feel good movies and books!