notes of affection

notes from a small island
by bill bryson

it took me a while to be engaged, but i found myself enjoy more and more, with each turning page, of this small book, which is a delightful travelog of england, its places, large or little, people, noble or notorious, culture, terrific or tedious, and history, fascinating or fast-fading; written by an american who had lived there for 20 years, knew it intimately and detachedly, and talked about it with a humorous pettiness and absently-minded casualness, of the island and himself, to disguise, barely, his most earnest affection.

We got wii, or wii got "we"

we want wii
it didn't even cross my mind the night before that i would be one of those people lining up midnight in a parking lot to buy an eletronic game. of course the boys wanted it. of course i wanted to get them one. but "naturally", the responsibility fell to their dad, who did left home at 5:00 AM on the Saturday two weeks ago, but came back empty-handed. he had decided not to try it again, anticipating even crazier competition with Christmas quickly approaching. it was of course very sensible.

i woke up at 4:50 and habitually turned on the computer to surf the net. but somehow i became anxious, vaguely guilty of having fun while not trying hard enough to bring fun to my boys. fragments of my dream in the waking hour seemed to have related to my going to chain stores, Target in particular.

a Target was opened recently in a nearby mall but i had never been there. i hate that mall, only about 10 min away from my home but with the most tortuously complicated roads all leading to or leading away from it. i either get there accidentally or miss it completely after attempted every route and give up in disgust. but that was my "target" now with time running out - I couldn't really gurantee that i would find a farther one any easier.

so i quickly consulted mapquest.com and got out of the door, feeling but not arguing about the obvious absurdity to try to get the hottest toy of the season in the last desperate hour in such a non-hurried way.

this time i found the abandoned mall alright but noticed that there was no Target store sign on the directory post at the entrance. in confusion, i drove up to the front and saw two people there and a young guy walking pass my car. i asked him about "Target" and he pointed to the shining "Target" sign just across the street. but i realized immediately that he and i didn't meet here by chance. he explained that only 12 Wii's were available at Target and another 24 at the BestBuy next door, with many more people waiting at both places since 10:30 PM last night. he was told by someone that the "Electronic Boutique" game shop in this mall also had 8 and just came over to try his luck. needless to say, i got off my car and followed him. the old guy at the front door had already started a sign-up list. I would have been number 6 but number 4 said that his friend was yet to arrive from Target, so it would only be fair to cross out his name for now. so i signed up as number 5, already seeing his friend walking towards us. it was probably 5:15.

in the next 10 to 15 min, a few more came and we made up exactly 8. no more people showed up in the next hour. i talked to most of them and concluded that the information came from the same unverifiable source. so i was mostly expectant with a quite healthy dose of suspicion. except me, everyone seemed to be experienced. two guys had talked to the security guard and were told that we would be let into the mall around 6:40. it was a mild morning with temperatures above freezing but my feet started to feel cold in my boots after half-an-hour and i didn't even wear a hat or scarf. we won't be cold for long). number 8 checked all entrances to be sure that ours was the only line. obviously, i thought, because there were no wii here.

the 8 of us, for the 8 wii's
number 1 was a teenager. very quiet - he was all wrapped up and mostly slept, leaning against the door. we only remembered him halfway past the large parking lot after being told by the guard to move to a different entrance. i went back to wake him up and found him walking hurriedly towards us. i explained myself but didn't extract a "thank you" from him. after we lined up in the front of the game shop, he was joined by his girl friend. so he moved further away and the two had some good small time to themselves. then the girl sat down at the nearby Dunkin Donut place, with a middle-aged woman, likely her mom. while we waited, they waited for him. patiently.

number 2 was the guy who had directed me here. he is a sophmore in an art school in Los Angeles and came home for winter vacation. he wanted a wii badly for himself. and some snow, too. while waiting at the new entrance, we were concerned that more people might start to form a new line at the main entrance. so i volunteered to go back there to direct the "traffic". he joined me. moments later, number 6 came to get our cell number so that we could notify each other whichever entrance was opened first.

number 3 was the old fold. he has two boys, 10 to 12. i identify mostly with him because he, too, felt so out-of-the-place among the young guys. he emphasized that he just wanted to give a try to answer his wife, who relayed the strong desire of their boys. he kept saying "it's crazy, it's crazy". he arrived around 4:30.

number 4 is a 1st year student in northeastern. he was the more knowledgeable one and had already played wii at a product test setting. but he passed the opportunity to get one because he thought Nintendo could do some improvements. then the bug caught on and now he had to get one. he and number 6 were number 14 and 15 at the Target. after introdution, he wondered aloud why no parents would pay for his wii.

number 6 is a childhood friend of 4. he is the most excited among us, although he doesn't even play electronic games. instead he was trying to get one for his elder brother and sister-in-law, who couldn't sneak out at night because he is married and has a little baby girl. the two friends played rough house to kill time.

number 7 was actually a "team", a teenager and his grandma. the strategy was to take turns to stand in line while the other could slept a little in the car, although obviously it was not necessary with our waiting line of only 8. grandma was also the gift-giver.

number 8 was the game guru of the gathering. most talkative, too. he had worked more than 10 years in a consulting firm, explaing IT matters to lawyers. between he and number 4, the entire history of Sony Playstation, Nintendo Gametube and Microsoft Xbox was narrated. i got lost after 5 minutes when the conversation was into the technical details but the other guys were absorbed. he also had played a wii and encouraged the old guy and me that it was the right toy for our boys. he was quite nervous because of his number 8 status, telling me that he could only be happy after he had a wii in his hands.

we got wii
at the side entrance. we saw and didn't pay attention to a lone car parked there. soon after, a middle-aged lady emerged but didn't bother to talk to anyone. i approached her and asked her to sign up. she was surprised and said she had already been here by 5:30. everyone laughed. she became the bitter number 9.

before anyone showed up at the main entrance, the two of us were phoned right before 7:00 to go back to the side entrance because the security guard had opened that door. getting into the warm, brightly-lighted mall, i found a line was already formed in front of EB Game by my co-waiters of 7 (grandma joined us, too). number 4 and 6 were sitting right next to each other. so i asked to sit between ahead of 4, with the promise that 4 would still get in first when the time came.

Donkin Donut next door was open. i took leave to refresh myself and also got a cup of coffee. the line had grown longer finally. i shared my suspicion again with number 4 and 6 that there might not be any after all. number 6 said "we got it! we got it!" "how do you know? it might just be a rumor". he pointed to the closed door. there was a note pasted there " eight (8) wii will be available on Sunday". i felt a sudden surge of joy in my heart and smiled. it was 7:15.

my phone rang at 7:30. i had been waiting for the call. the dad finally woke up. the shop manager showed up also but closed it after him. we scrutinazed his every action in an attempt to locate wii's in the store. the number 9 lady started to talk loudly that she was the first at the "right" entrance after all and that she could have started a sign-up list of her own. i suddenly realized that not everyone would get the thing. i tried to explain to her that everyone before her came at least half hour earlier but she stuck to her point. i tried to share guilty with number 4 but he said it didn't matter to us and that the only one might be affected was number 8. so i wondered whether she was trying to make 8 guilty. 4 said "no way, he wanted it most even among us". indeed, 8 was focusing all his attentionon on the store manager, no longer talkative.

a coworker of mine suddently showed up and betrayed a great amount of surprise seeing me there. i shrugged lamely. she stayed in the line for awhile and came up to chat with me. she wanted to get one for her nephew but was ready to leave after commenting that "out of all people, you are the least i would have expected". i agreed with her. more poeple came, largely teenage boys, counted the line and left; a few stayed. so there were about 20 people in total.

around 8:00, a shop assistant came to work. now we saw the two brought out the whitish boxes from the cabinet. number 6 jumped up down. up down, chanting. right then, my husband came too, explaining that i didn't pick up his second call and that he was worried that being me, i might have forgot my purse. "of course not, me? forgetting?!". he was amazed by the turn of events. but i always know - all wrong turns lead to the right place.

i had time to say congratulations to number 1 before he walked away. my husband suggested we get 3 extra controllers so all of us could play but we were told that accessaries were also restricted to one extra set per purchase. we did buy the $40 two-yar guarantee, the rip-off we normally refuse. i signed my credit card without even looking at the final amount. the moment i signed it, i felt a surreal sensation. when we walked out of the store, someone in the line far behind said "congratulations". we got wii.

it's going to be a very merry christmas.(12/17/2006).

A glimpse into the Turkish culture

My Name is Red

By Orhan Pamuk

I am not a great fan of the Nobel Prize for literature, which seems partial to books heavy of meanings but devoid of enjoyment. My Name is Red (Red), the 2006 winner, is no exception. Set in 16th-century Istanbul, Red opens with a brutal murdering of a miniaturist in the hands of another. The story progresses through the development of the mystery, intertwined with a love story and extensive references to Turkish art, history and culture.

Not much of a good fiction

The book is written in a somewhat unusual way, narrated by not only main characters, but also objects such as drawing figures, the color red, and, even the abstract “death”. However, it reads as if, or matter-of-factly, being told by a single person (the author): there is barely any distinction of personalities, perspectives, thoughts and narrative styles. Thus, many details and figurative languages are repetitive and get tiresome towards the end. All characters also act in confusingly erratic ways to defy any rational understanding of their behaviors or thoughts. Ultimately, the stories and characters were so boring and unreal that I was mostly disengaged, scarcely affected by the brutal killings, exotic settings or erotic love scenes.

Translation might be part of the problem, too, sluggish and lame, with occasional grammar mistakes and without discernible literary style.

Some history, culture and … desperation

However, I did end up with a very positive appreciation of the book, enjoyed an introduction to the Turkish history and culture.

The Turkish culture, as depicted in the book, is a religious one to the extreme, which worships Allah AND belittles human lives. The belief is so pervasive that it reflects in every single thought of every individual. Thus, drawing is not a personal interest but a way to glorify Allah, through the eyes of Allah, as best guessed by the merely human. The inevitable limitation and diversity of the human perception of God is the root of all agony, melancholy, dispute and hatred. And the unquestioned belief in a lifeafter leads to the “logical” negligence of human suffering, the embracing of extreme self-sacrifice, and the justification of ruthless means to “right the wrong”. The stories in this book were not even that extreme yet this distinctively different perspective prevailed and impressed me greatly. When this life is but a brief passage to the eternal happiness, what is it to cherish? When human beings are but servants to the grace of Allah, how much could individuality matter?

And when it has penetrated, settled and redefined a culture through time, this mentality inevitably exacerbates the misery of human lives with fear, humiliation and suppression, because human beings are also born with unspeakable thoughts, uncontrollable desires and, for those miniaturists, insuppressible inspirations. To draw a few beautiful pictures.

The Western culture, as symbolized by the Venetian art, dealt a deadly blow to this suppressive yet self-sustainable tradition. It is fundamentally different not only in the art form but also in the philosophical belief. Thus, to accept is to give up one’s own identity; yet to reject is to acknowledge inferiority in spite of one’s innate genius. Such is the desperation. It’s not a struggle how paintings should be done but how life should be lived.

The art and the celebrated Chinese influence

I wondered about the famous Turkish paintings described repetitively in the book and was delighted to find some at the publisher’s website (http://www.randomhouse.com/knopf/authors/pamuk/desktopnew.html).

These colorful and elegant pictures bring about justification to the melancholy mood of the book, about a time long passed by.

A pleasant surprise is the highly regarded Chinese influence on the Turkish art: the Istanblites incorporate the special curved clouds as Chinese artists would have painted, they use Chinese inks and they paint all maiden beauties with slanted Chinese eyes… This attitude is in a striking contrast to their resistance to the West, suggesting that cultural harmony is not an impossibility, when the foundations of the mixing cultures are not shaken.

One painting described in the book is about a Chinese bride’s gloomy journey to her foreign husband’s
home. It's got to be the Turkish version of “昭君出塞”:

咏怀古迹五首之三

杜甫

群山万壑赴荆门，生长明妃尚有村。
一去紫台连朔漠，独留青冢向黄昏。
画图省识春风面，环佩空归月夜魂。
千载琵琶作胡语，分明怨恨曲中论！

So it has been a worthwhile and memorable reading experience after all.

附图：土耳其昭君 (from The Topkapi Saray Museum: The Albums and Illustrated Manuscripts.);
中国昭君 (作者：佚名；来源：互联网)