kaigou | my brain, it is both full and blown away. (Reply)

In the past week or so, I feel like I've had the entire progress of CP's master's shoved into my brain.

Desiring China: Experiments in Neoliberalism, Sexuality, and Public Culture
author: Lisa Rofel

Intriguing but extremely dense and definitely to the trade. Or to the academic, as the case may be. Rofel could probably benefit from a bit more of the warmth present in anthropology works like Rosemary Mahoney's.

However, I should note that one detail of interest to me was Rofel's mention of a post-socialist healing mechanism (or maybe more precisely post-cultural-revolution healing, erk, I can't recall the precise detail this moment, for reasons that'll become clear as you work your way down the list). The literal translation of the concept is 'speaking bitterness,' in which one basically airs the grief and hurt and lingering anger from experiencing a past situation. Exorcising the pain, as it were.

That struck me, that this kind of potentially strongly cathartic experience is one for which (that I know of) we don't actually have a formal sense, in the West, and certainly not a formalized framework like what China introduced for its citizens to air their grievances as part of healing.

I'm thinking here of the way we (the Western 'we') come at this speaking-bitterness sideways, especially in the wake of the California anti-marriage law: that many queer folk have stood up and essentially been speaking the bitterness of life under such an oppressive discriminatory law and society. In doing so, it's a way to expose others to the consequences of their actions, and it might have the benefit of moving things forward -- but from what I read of Rofel's understanding of it, the point isn't necessarily mainly to fix the situation, or to force redress, or even to guilt an apology out of the wrongful party. The main goal, with all else being side-benefits, is for the wronged party to be able to speak clearly -- and not to just be heard, but listened to -- about the bitterness of one's experience.

In a sense, the weight lies on the shoulders of the person speaking that bitterness, and the counter-weight from other parties is to be silent and listen, to grant the speaker that space to recognize and exorcise that bitterness.

I'm familiar with some groups (of different types and purposes) that have a pseudo-Native-American behavior of using a 'speaking stick', where the person doing the holding is thereby the person doing the talking, and others must be silent. That has limited application when it comes to speaking bitterness, though, because it only defines who's talking and doesn't automatically grant a validity to the words, only a right to a turn at speaking. However, the speaking stick will then move to the next person, who -- as granted by now having their 'turn' at speaking -- will understandably (as is often the intention for such speaking-stick concepts or props) feel it acceptable to then speak/respond to the previous person's statement.

But speaking bitterness doesn't require (and from what I gather, may in fact be injured/undermined by) a reply -- because again, the weight is not on the listener to do anything but take in the bitterness and understand that it exists. Unlike the proverbial speaking-stick, replies and discussion are not the goal. (At least in this specific act of speaking the bitterness. Maybe later, once the bitterness has been spoken and accepted, but in that moment, no, I don't get the impression that the audience is to do anything but listen and be aware and in their silence grant the speaker legitimacy and validity.)

Perhaps incorporation of the concept/term of 'speaking bitterness' in our online discussions may help to distinguish when someone needs to speak as a way to speak their piece (and peace) without response, critique, or any reaction except silent but attentive listening.

The World of the Shining Prince: Court Life in Ancient Japan
author: Ivan Morris

This wasn't from CP's study-book collection, but was one he'd gotten from his father's library, and I happened to mention pondering putting it on my Amazon wishlist. (Handy, to already have it.) Not my time period of interest (let alone of country) but fascinating critical study of Murasaki's Tale of Genji all the same.

Behind the Mask: on sexual demons, sacred mothers, transvestites, gangsters, and other Japanese cultural heroes
author: Ian Buruma

I tore through this, then went back and reread significant chunks. Most cultural anthropologists will gleefully pound all decent information into the most boring dust (see also Rofel, Napier), but Buruma actually makes it interesting and intelligent. Really, really, really insightful. Nothing like reading and having that ah-HAH moment about many things, from the mythic sources for the bizarre quasi-homo-erotic tension between Sasuke and Naruto and the reason Trowa spends fifteen freaking minutes in a last-breath-before-dying soliloquy. The mystery, solved!

Samurai from Outer Space: Understanding Japanese Animation
author: Antonia Levi

I could be wrong, but from what I saw on the page, it certainly looks like someone told Levi that you win the writing game if you can shove more animanga-title references onto one page than any other anime-documenter. However, stringing together endless references to a variety of anime -- half of which, or more, I've never even heard of it and it's not like I fell off the manga truck yesterday -- just does not make for exciting reading. Did not finish, but then, it probably didn't help I was still in the throes of post-Buruma awe.

Anime from Akira to Howl's Moving Castle, Updated Edition: Experiencing Contemporary Japanese Animation
author: Susan Napier

I tried to give this one my best shot, but... honestly. Example: Napier wants to discuss the development of nihilism (a topic Buruma also addresses, so I figure the intention is valid). However, she uses three anime as comparison points, the final of which is Wolf's Rain. An anime, she notes, which was not only considerably less popular than the other two major anime she's using for comparison, but also an anime that was roundly criticized by critics and fans for its "rocks fall, everyone dies" ending.

Let me get this straight: you're going to try and convince me of a major nihilistic tendency on the part of a culture based on an anime the fans hated and the critics dissed? Where, exactly, is the indication that it resonated with pop culture at all?

I mean, sure, Titanic has a rocks fall (or boats fall) and everyone dies, but it resonated, and its distributors have the bajillions in revenue to prove its pop culture appeal. If no one watches a damn show, and the few who do then proceed to do their best to forget they ever wasted that much time (or to rewrite it with far more skill than the original screenwriters and fix the storytelling muckups), wouldn't this be telling you something? Like, maybe it's not such a good example of nihilism and more an example of really freaking sucky writing?

I could only take so much of being able to destroy her arguments that easily, especially since Napier is an academic lamp-shader. She raises the points that undermine her argument, as though raising them is the same as countering them, and carries on. I suppose she figures enough hand-waving (to mix tropes) and maybe no one will notice the undermining points have effectively demolished her argument.

Reading her made me feel like I'd become the only one with a working brain in the author-reader dialogue.

Anime Explosion! The What? Why? & Wow! of Japanese Animation
author: Patrick Drazen

First of all, ignore the idiotic title. Second, ignore the absolutely horrendous cover design (though granted, not nearly as bad as the cover for Samurai from Outer Space. (Yes, I know, small press, but still, people.) If you can get past those, this is actually a very insightful and interesting read. Lots of details, tidbits, behind-the-scenes information, highlights of symbolism and intra- and extra-story references. Very light on the philosophy, but that's not the book's purpose (only that I was looking for it and found only scraps). It's somewhere between an introduction, an overview, and a revue of themes, without also being a ridiculously top-heavy "top 100 anime of all time!" kind of nonsense.

Best part is that Drazen really knows his Tezuka, and pulls in historical elements regularly, to give a sense of the continuity in the development of manga and anime, and where newer animangaka are riffing off of, or paying homage to, older series.

Pandemonium and Parade: Japanese Monsters and the Culture of Yokai
author: Michael Dylan Foster

Definitely not for the casual reader, but not requiring you have a master's in anthropology, either. I read then skimmed then read then skimmed much of the book, since again, Japanese history isn't a time period that really twigs for me. It's when Foster gets into discussing Gojira that I slowed down on purpose -- but there was plenty earlier in the book that had me slowing down, just because Foster's a decent writer who clearly enjoys the topic.

Magic and Modernity: Interfaces of Revelation and Concealment
editors: Birgit Meyer & Peter Pels

On CP's suggestion, I only read the intro (the rest of the book deals predominantly with African, and some Near-eastern, cultural practices, and right now that's not really my focus. Thing is, even just the introduction is heavy on the anthro-lingo along with name-dropping like crazy (although in its defense, it's a lot of history summing up the Occidental interpretations of, and translations of, non-western modes of belief). Slow going. Interesting, but slow going, and that makes for slow processing.

Civilization and Monsters: Spirits of Modernity in Meiji Japan
author: Gerald Figal

Same vein as Foster's work, but for some reason not capturing me like Foster. Will return to it, though, because I noticed a few parts that might fit into some of the thoughts tossing about in my head after reading the final book on this list.

Otaku: Japan's Database Animals
author: Hiroki Azuma

This guy is my newest GOD. I swear. First of all, he doesn't play the neo-liberalism or Marxist game (something I could really only stomach in Rofel's work since she is, after all, discussing a somewhat post-Marxist, or at least semi-post-socialist, cultural regime). He does reference Hegelian and Heideggerian thought, and wraps it up in technological understandings like databases and the structure of the world wide web. And best of all, he doesn't privilege the original over the derivative works, but grants validity to the otaku preference for seeing the two (original and copy/fanwork) as being of equal importance and value for consumption.

What's particularly fascinating is his deconstruction of the development of Japanese culture and the way he carefully steps through and builds into a very convincing argument of otaku as not just the avant-garde, but also the arrière-garde, if avant-garde has a formal opposite. Some of his criticisms aren't just surprising from a non-Japanese perspective (in the sense of, hey, I hadn't thought of that/realized that) but they're also surprising if you're at all familiar with the emphasis the Japanese culture often puts on harmonious presentation. To have someone so bluntly (and in a text that's also a best-seller!) calling Japan on the contradictions and failures in its self-created post-war identity is, well... unexpected.

CP said he'd skimmed but never got 'caught' by the book, but I started with the first chapter (since the intro goes on an on, and then the translator's notes go on and on even more, and I felt like I was reading without context for whatever they were each discussing). Almost immediately I was snagged. Okay, yes, when reading intense non-fiction like these books, I tend to read slower, and in chunks rather than straight through, but it still only took me about a day or so to read Azuma. (Doesn't hurt that the book itself is a rather slim volume compared to the rest.)

Actually, of all the books I've read, Buruma was the most insightful about long-term storytelling patterns and archetypes... but Azuma's the one that blew off the top of my head. I fully expect I'll spend the rest of the day wandering about in a delighted philosophical daze.

And in case you're wondering, for me, that's a good thing.