Unputdownable

Story idea:

A book of short stories, each about the writer's worst fears (e.g., a truly Machiavellian/Orwellian Catholic Church, totally erratic physical "laws", always being at a loss for words, perpetually catching only glimpses of would-be soulmate's face, etc.) Each story is connected by a brief intro by the writer. The final such "monologue" is, in fact, the final fear: to be trapped in a book and to be closed away forever once all the stories are read.

"I haven't been completely forthright. Not all of these fears are just nightmares. One of them is reality. ... I can feel it coming. You're getting tired of me. We're reaching the end. The light is fading and soon you will slip me into an abyss as dark and staid as the ink on this page. But, please, don't go, please. I'll keep talking, just odn't put me down. I'll never forget your touch, your fingertips, your breath. ..."

Das Bild ist eine Bildung

Zhes now, tell me vut you see, mm?

Excuse me, ma'am...

but have you seen this boy?

Recently read...

Yann Martel's much touted _Life of Pi_ (Pi being the self-chosen nickname of the protagonist, Piscine Molitar Patel). The book was chock full of interesting zoological observations and piquant quips about faith and rationalism. (I'm very curious what sort of research Martel did to learn so many zoological trivia.) Martel's re-telling of the "one big story" of the Cross was one of the most riveting tellings of the divine mystery of crucified love I have ever read. He could stand to sharpen his wit and comic angles, but Martel's style is on the whole refreshingly simple, whimsical and refreshingly optimistic.

As for its vision, or moral, _Life of Pi_ is a delightful and very subdued odyssey of hope which unfortunately sacrifices faithfulness on the altar of faith. Faith per se is, for Martel, apparently the _summum bonum_. Not the object or effect of that faith, but faith itself as a general faculty of the human person. ("Don't just stand there, believe _something_!") Martel all too coyly enshrines Jesus the Savior-Man in the frenzied pantheon of Hindu piety without honestly facing Jesus the Lord-God. Indeed, at times Pi's (or Martel's) goggle-eyed zest for all things Hindu-Christian-Islam bleeds through in some tacky blotches of affected prose.

In terms of the novel's integrity, I can't tell if Martel deliberately left some major themes (and motifs) inarticulate or if he simply botched their development. I also am not savvy enough in literary analysis to tell whether Martel wrote an intentionally fragmented book (along postmodern lines) or if he simply failed to forge strong enough narrative bonds between Pi's life in India and his trials on the sea. But the boy sure seemed to get over the loss of his family a little spritely for my tastes.

I could say much more. I've waited quite a while to read this book and I wasn't disappointed. I may very well read it again. Its subtelty speaks of a deep and surprising philosophical riddle. Bravo, Mr. Martel.

Went to a posh banquet last night...

for poor people. (I know, I know: "Please pass the cynicism.") But I wonder: would all those many people have paid as much as they did for the same cause _without_ the snazzy meal? Would I?

At least the event was eye-opening. A divorce happens every 8 minutes in Taiwan. Taiwan is the second worst nation for suicide behind Japan. Paradoxically, there's little better to make you feel at home than to know the horrors of your home. The deeper into the darkness of Taiwan I see, the more I know I am (for now) in a place rightly called home. The hordes of once-anonymous Taiwanese behind scooter masks and in cluttered shops now have stories all their own. God calls me to write His good news into their stories -- albeit first by hearing them out.

"Here am I, O Lord, send me."

The worst thing about learning is...

the more you learn, the more you forget.

Thus spake Fakespeare.