野鴿子的黃昏

During my secondary schools years, I did a couple of book reports. The first was in Form 2, assigned by our Chinese teacher, Miss Leung. I forgot whether or not we had a choice in book, but the one I did was <野鴿子的黃昏> by 王尚義 (Wang Shang-yi). The report can no longer be found (I suppose it was never returned to me), but I recently dug up the book, whose contents I've naturally forgotten completely. Those brief notes that I jotted down in pencil on its pages can still be discerned, although the handwriting and the language style are quite embarrassing to behold after all these years.

Wang Shang-yi was born on the Mainland in 1936. Like many of his generation, his family underwent a decline in fortunes as well as a tortuous journey of relocation during those war years before finally settling down in Taiwan. A talented student, Wang got admitted to the college of medicine in the National University of Taiwan. Unfortunately, the literary inclined Wang soon discovered that medicine was not for him. Unable to make a switch (owing to strong objection by his family as well as faculty constraints) he persevered for 7 years, while at the same time writing copiously. From Wang's photos published in the book, one can see how the once bright and handsome youth gradually became a pensive guy with angular features within just a few years. Shortly after graduation from medical school, he developed liver cancer and died in 1963 at the age of 26.

Wang's character and the circumstances of his death can be gleaned from reminiscences penned by his family and friends, as well as several love letters sent to him by his girlfriend (who was then studying in Europe), which are appended to the book. While his father expresses eternal regret for having objected to his eldest son's proposed change in study plans, his mother provides much information on his family background that inspired many of the pieces in this anthology. His friends offer insights on Wang's political ideas, an aspect that cannot readily be canvassed from this compilation of short stories and essays, and reveal the fate of the girl who wrote those love letters - she became a nun after Wang's death. 

Wang pours out his own frustration in his medical studies, his deep scorn for money-driven values in society, and his love for literature and philosophy in the uneven semi-autobiographical novella, <現實的邊緣>, and he accuses the hypocrisy of religion in <野鴿子的黃昏>. (His father intimates in his lament that his son has been hurt by a member of the clergy, although the circumstances have not been made clear.) Reading these stories at my present age, I can't help feeling that Wang was too naive and overly idealistic, even though this was quite understandable for a youth living at around 1960. He apparently didn't know that life is full of compromises, and that making a living, whether through a profession or a trade, does not necessarily contradict with the nobler values in life. Above all, his distaste for medical studies have probably made him overlook certain other valuable aspects of the profession, which he has treated quite unfairly in some of his works. 

On the whole, I like his short essays more. His descriptive skills, though never too daring, are more than good, and the sort of emotional indulgence displayed from time to time is the privilege of a sensitive youth, and thus possesses its own charm. The themes of his essays revolve around the feeling of nostalgia for rustic life on the Mainland before the war, the praise for nature, the passive role of women in society, as well as his own fears and uncertainties when faced with the future, often expressed in a figurative manner. As befits a voracious reader and music lover, there are also thoughts on Hemingway and Beethoven. It's debatable whether Wang would become a major literary figure if he were to live longer. But then, his romantic fervour and youthful sentiments do render this anthology a most suitable read for secondary school students.

感官世界/Maya

Given that I'm mainly interested in classical music, and that, over the last 10 years or so, I've rarely (if ever) tuned to pop radio stations and TV music programmes, I'm afraid I've completely lost touch with the latest developments in the Chinese pop scene. That's why, despite his having won a major reality show music contest in Taiwan in 2007 and having released a successful debut album last year, the name of Yoga Lin (林宥嘉) had never entered my ears.

It was until a few weeks ago when I first encountered Lin's hauntingly seductive song (from his debut album) -<眼色> - when a contestant in TVB's <The Voice> (<超級巨聲>) sang it. Even then, I failed to catch the names of the original singer and that of the song from the screen. It's only when I accidentally bumped into a rather torrid music video on Youtube a few days ago that I recognise the music as the song I heard several weeks previously on that TV show. I found the piece so enthralling that I listened to it several times in quick succession, through the different versions available on Youtube, including a couple of piano transcriptions.

Learning that Lin had released his 2nd album, entitled <感官世界> (<Senses Around>), very recently, I decided to give him a try. (I didn't buy his debut album.) While none of the 11 tracks are as mesmerising as <眼色>, it is still quite an outstanding concept album. The music is fairly wide-ranging, encompassing rock and pop ballads, jazz and bossa nova with good lyrics and competent arrangements. Lin sings well, often investing the music with a feeling of laid-back intoxication, this trancy style being his vocal signature, as I've learnt from websites. Critics have said that Lin sounds like his idol, Eason Chan, in his first album. But I think he has found his own voice here. He's a major talent and, if he's able to maintain his standard, will be able to go a long way.

Re-read Jostein Gaarder's <Maya>. Through the narrators' (there are two) encounters with a mysterious Spanish couple in Fiji, where the woman bears a striking resemblance to the face of Goya's portrait, <La Maja Desnuda>, created two hundred years ago, Gaarder uses his characters to debate on whether life and evolution are intentional, as well as the philosophical question of whether subsequent events can give meaning to past incidents, which, at their times of occurrence, may seem random and bereft of meaning. 

The book reminds us that it takes hundreds of millions of years of continued cell division to make us, but it only takes a few seconds to die, whereupon such a long and previously unbroken series of life will come to an abrupt end. (So, those who don't have children must be under a great burden!) On the whole, I prefer it to the same author's much more famous <Sophie's World>, as the latter is merely a thinly-disguised semi-academic course on this history of philosophy. <Maya> at least has an exotic story set on the international dateline on the eve of the turn of the Millennium, even though, at the end, it probably teaches readers much less.

Symphony of Movements and Assorted Matters

Saw the HK Ballet's triple-bill, <Symphony of Movements>. I suppose the female corps did reasonably well in the Kingdom of the Shades scene from <La Bayadere>, although their movements could have been even more graceful. The newly-hired principal, Margarita Demjanoka, side-lined earlier due to injury, was technically quite impressive, although this programme didn't show off her full emotional range. Huang Zhen did well in his solos, and was very musical, too. But while his partnering skills have improved much over the past few years, there seemed to be a sense of apprehension on his part during the pas de deux. I wonder why. The 3 Shades were competent, but each revealed some technical flaws that, nevertheless, didn't compromise their performances to any material extent.

Though offering nothing very new, Stephen Baynes' <The Way Alone>, set to music by Tchaikovsky, is a pleasantly lyrical work. Eve Chan gave the piece a good start, and there's nice work by Nobuo Fujino, Jonathan Mangosing and Li Jia-bo. Kyoko Tomimura, also just recovered from an injury, was ethereal in the central pas de deux (danced to the slow movement of the 1st Piano Concerto), strongly partnered by Wei Wei. The programme ended with Nils Christe's take on Stravinsky's <Symphony in Three Movements>. The male dancers shone in this gloomy but relentless piece, capped by a brilliant stint from Wei, who's always good in this type of stuff. The ladies were less ideal, their articulation of movements not as sharp as mandated by both music and choreography. The programme appeared to have been badly marketed - the CCGT was less than a third full in Saturday's matinee, although those went were mostly balletomanes.

Bought the Chinese translation of Haruki Murakami's (村上春樹) latest novel <1Q84>, still hot from the printing press. Strangely, Page One (Times Square) is offering a 20% discount on the hardback edition and a 10% discount on the paperback version. The difference, after the respective deductions, amounts ot just HK$2. Needless to say, I went for the hardback. I'll be taking my time over this rather substantial novel, which has already sold over 2 million copies in Japan.

Re-read Peter Conrad's <A Song of Love and Death>, which is a cultural critique of opera. Frankly, I've completely forgotten that I have this book on my shelf.

Just discovered that there is now a campus TV operating in the secondary school that I went to, and that many short programmes are available for viewing from its website. It's interesting to see what my alma mater is like these days, and a pleasure to encounter on screen some of the teachers that have taught me. And how many years have gone by since I last heard the School Anthem?

People often complain that students of the present generation aren't as good as their predecessors. From the evidence of those video clips, one can't arrive at a conclusive verdict. Although I suppose I did better than most of those who recorded their work in the Speech Festival, on the other hand, I wasn't aware of there being any student in my days who could sing a German Lied, let alone singing to such a standard as seen in one of the concert clips. Despite my love for classical music, I must admit that I knew next to nothing about Lieder in my secondary school days. Today's students certainly have a much wider exposure to all sorts of things.

Dug out my academic report cards from kindergarten to Form 7, which made a heart-warming read, in particular those issued by my primary school, where teachers of major subjects jotted down their comments on me for each term. In view of their age, these are fast becoming historical documents. Are there any local museums or library archives to which I can, in due course, donate them?

Pompeii/2012

We all know how Pompeii met its end - The eruption of Vesuvius in 79 CE sent a rain of pumice and a fiery pyroclastic flow over the city which, in a flash, buried all its inhabitants, such that what we now see at the site of excavation are scenes frozen in time, illustrating what the city was like just pior to the catastrophe. Or so we thought.

The first thing Mary Beard does in her book, <Pompeii> (which I recently bought and read), is to debunk some of these myths. It now seems that the seaside town may already have been in decline after hit by a strong earthquake in 62 CE. Some major public facilities had apparantly been decomissioned and that much restoration work was going on at the time of eruption, probably for repairing the damage caused by that earlier quake or, perhaps more likely, the tremors that preceded the 79 CE eruption. Such tremors had probably caused an exodus of Pompeians (most therefore survived), who must have taken many of their belongings and furniture with them, thus giving a false impression that the Romans were wont to decorate their houses in minimalistic style. After the cataclysm, there were people returning for salvaging operations. And looters as well, some of whom may have accidentally been entombed when damaged rooftops gave way during their clandestine operations.

After putting these records straight, Beard proceeds to take us on a fascinating tour through the dead city in a forensic adventure that unravels in countless amusing details the many facets of the once-thriving Pompeii, the type of street and cafe life that its inhabitants led, the architecture and furnishing of houses and how people conducted their domestic affairs, the means by which Pompeians earned their living, the city's governance, its food, wine and fish sauce, its brothels and baths, games and theatres, and the Pompeians' diverse religions and rites. Armed with a healthy skepticism, a relaxed linguistic style, an infectious sense of humour, not to mention a formidable knowledge on her subject, Beard manages to bring the entire city to life. The narrative is further spiced up with cotents of election posters, the foul risks of venturing in the streets at night, graffiti done by jilted lovers and those who boasted of having visited a certain brothel and even funny cartoons, all showing that the ancients were much like ourselves in both thought and behaviour. A disarming human touch informs every page of this remarkable work, which, unlike the many dry historical discourses that I've encountered in the past, makes it doubly enjoyable. If you wish to read about ancient Pompeii, this is the book.

<2012> is just a big bore. Though the CG effects are undeniably impressive (after all, they're depicting the end of the world), the film is merely an amalgamation of similar scenes from other flicks on volcanoes, earthquakes, tsunami and sea and land disasters. The designs for those set pieces on escape and rescue have been seen many times before, but some of these are so fantastically conceived through CG that they look decidedly implausible. And at an interminable 158 minutes, the film can't even maintain the tension. Faced with a flimsy plot, cardboard characterisation and the most mundane of Hollywood values, no wonder that the actors can merely go through their motions without offering viewers anything special. I presume the only unusual thing in this movie is its acknowledgement of China's national strength, although, by choosing the Tibetan plateau as the site of the construction of those arks, the film-makers' political agenda may not be as straight-forward as it seems.

The film is about the end of the world through sudden earth crust displacement and magnetic-pole reversal. There is indeed some evidence that such phenomena have occurred in the past, well before historical times, although, like all geological theories of a similar kind, there is much academic controversy surrounding them. But even if they are to happen again, one can't be sure if the situation will be as serious as the scenes in this movie, which is probably depicting the worst case scenario. Much depends, of course, on the rate and manner of crustal displacement. But then, one can't help thinking whether that's the reason by which the legendary Atlantis met its watery end, as mentioned by Plato in his <Timaeus> and <Critias>.

英雄街道/This Is It

Again, there is much pleasure to be had in reading <英雄街道>, the 4th instalment of Jozev's (喬靖夫) on-going <武道狂之詩> ("<Sangre y Acero>") series, published last month. While the language in this latest volume is not as finely chiselled as in the past, the author is definitely on the top of his game in the extensive combat sequences that form the backbone of this episode. I doubt if there are any novels out there that would devote almost three-quarters of its pages to such fierce and yet intricate martial arts combats which are so vividly depicted and thrillingly conceived that, at their unbearably tense climaxes, would leave one's heart racing and hands trembling, as I have myself experienced when going through the book. In this aspect, Jozev has no rivals, both past and present.

The events narrated here span just a couple of hours at most, and concern the siege of the fantastically powerful head of Wu Dang (武當), namely, Yao Lian-zhou (姚蓮舟), who has been poisoned at the up-market brothel that housed a renowned Xian (西安) courtesan. The ingenious plot allows a first face to face confrontation between the story's teenage hero, Yan Heng (燕橫), and a much weakened Yao, who, despite his dreadful reputation, displays much consideration and gallantry towards people that he cares. Amidst all that fighting, a few interludes of varying moods prepare the ground for the introduction of new characters and plot twists in future instalments, while the siege itself offers perceptive insights into the operation of crowd psychology, by highlighting the different considerations and motivations of individual members and their interactions during their campaign to subdue Yao. 

Most interestingly, the story shows how a group of people, banded together in the name of an apparently righteous cause, may not all be as noble as they may seem. Some harbour self-seving motives while others are willing to resort to ignoble means to attain their goals. (By contrast, Yao, branded a villain, appears to be infinitely more admirable in comparison - I'm sure this volume will earn him a lot of fans amongst readers.) And when some try to plead for fairer treatment or wish to operate on a more level playing field that doesn't accord with public sentiment, they are immediately villified as being an undercover spy from the opposite camp, with those professing to bear the flag of righteousness manipulating the crowd to move against them in the most cruel and irrational manner.

Of course, such things do not only happen in the world of fiction; they can be seen even in modern-day Hong Kong. In fact, the story reminds me of a much-publized incident earlier this year, where people who'd professed to be staunch supporters of democracy, freedom of expression, liberalism and social justice acted in such a deplorable manner against a perceived enemy that their vicious words and actions went completely contrary to what they claimed to represent. In my eyes, these people are unworthy torch-bearers of those noble ideals. Even if they get what they want, the principles that they espoused are so warped that, instead of leading to a fair, open and tolerant society, they may actually cause even bigger social injustices, tyranny and cultural degeneration, with these fake torch-bearers acting no better than those despots of the past. Thanks to that incident, which has exposed the ugly side of these loathsome hypocrites, I've resolved to have nothing to do with them in future, which mirrors the decision of Yan and his comrades in this novel.

This volume ends on a dramatic cliff-hanger mid-way through the siege. I hope that it won't take too long for Jozev to bring out volume 5.

Though no fan of Michael Jackson, I still find <This Is It> to be highly entertaining and illuminating. Edited from private film footages captured during rehearsals in the US for the scheduled 50 sell-out concerts in London, it shows "The King of Pop" auditioning the dancers, acting in and supervising the creation of lavish film segments specially made for the concerts, as well as participating in various stages of dance, music and stage rehearsals. The superb editing often makes full use of these fascinating footages, creating a colourful collage of rehearsal sequences for the performance of each single number, together with a few extended rehearsal shots showing what must have been rather close to the final products.

Whatever rumours that we have read from the tabloids, Jackson not only looked better than expected during rehearsals, he was also full of energy and enthusiasm, irrespective of whether or not he's heavily dependent on drugs at that stage. He was in full command of his music, and knew instantly the kind of effect, be it musical or visual, that he wanted. Ever polite with members of the crew, he evidently was the source of inspiration for all working on the splendid project, which, had Jackson lived, would certainly have been a magnificent swan song for this remarkable stage performer.