It's not only that I have an affinity for Dragons, but it's also so nice to see local 'Zonies make good. Featured as the Site of the Week by the Sci-Fi Channel website, the Dragon Page is all about books and SF. It's far more than just a website. It's radio too!
Google Print is an ongoing initiative to scan printed material and put it online where it can show up in Google search results. We've expanded the program, and we're now inviting publishers to send us books that we'll scan and put online for free. There are many, many books out there, and the process of scanning takes time, but depending on your areas of interest, it's likely you'll soon be seeing more Google Print results when you use Google.
More at the Google Blog...
MAD ABOUT BOOKS
Volume 7, Issue 7
October 5, 2004
Coming to you from Shaoxing, China
TABLE OF CONTENTS:
Madness and Bombast
Rejected Children's Books
Schoolteacher Arrested
Seventy-Two Secret Arts of Monks from the Shaolin Monastery
The Stupidest Deaths in Known History
Who Moved My Rice?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When I was a young boy they called me a liar. Now that I'm all
grown up, they call me a writer. --Isaac Singer
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
MADNESS AND BOMBAST
Copyright 2004, Michael LaRocca
October 8 is the fourth anniversary of one of the greatest days
in my life. That was the day Jan and I got married.
{"One of?" you ask. Well, yeah. Meeting her was special too, and
so was the day she agreed to marry me in the first place. And
others, all with Jan.}
When Jan said those two magic words to me four years ago, I had
no idea that, one day, she would turn into a biker chick.
{Bicycles, folks, bicycles. This is China. Night rides in
Shaoxing are quite romantic if you can find a place with no
people. Especially on a walkway along the river, soft green
lighting upon trees that remind one of weeping willows.}
October 9 fast approaches, and the folks down under may have
heard that a vote for Howard is a vote for Costello. Yep, that's
gloomy, but I have an even gloomier possibility. A vote for
Howard is a vote for Howard.
{Note to my American readers. In Australia, voting is mandatory.
And now a few Aussies may be mumbling, "You mean it's not like
that everywhere? Bloody 'ell..." Hey, it does help explain Bush.}
Is this newsletter turning biweekly? Nah. I just got hit with one
of those weird creative bursts. Making up for the summer
vacation, when I had a bad case of reruns. In contrast to US TV,
which has summer reruns but no creativity the rest of the time.
Did you ever notice how much marketing sucks? I didn't even ask
you to vote for me last week. Nah, it's not mandatory here.
Thanks to all of you who did, though. We're clinging to #9.
Why didn't I ask you to vote? I was following some marketing guru
advice. The only message in my last newsletter was, quite simply,
"Buy my book!" (Did it work? I don't know.) Not even a spout like
this, which is why this one's so long.
This also reminds me of an article in the issue before last,
about publishing. "Why In The FRAG Do We Do It?" I hate writing
sales pitches. Every time you publish, you either trot your
little author self out on center stage or you sell no books.
Sometimes, you do both. Jeez. Finding a publisher is the easy
part.
{Unpublished masses are throwing things at their screens right
now. I recommend Richard Pryor's rubber brick, and I honestly
believe he threw one at Jim Brown. He would. Anybody who would
step in the ring with Mohammed Ali would do almost anything.}
Here's something I failed to write on September 29. The date
of this year's Mid-Autumn Festival. The date varies, since
it's based on a lunar calendar. It always falls on a full moon.
This roundness is a symbol of good fortune, as is eating the
round moon cake. Also a symbol of eggs, sugar, and a lard-like
substance. You can hear your arteries slam shut just thinking
about it. The school gave us 12. I gave them all away. I
wonder how many dogs wake up the next morning saying, "No
breakfast for me, thanks. Just let me and my guts suffer in
peace."
But I digress. Especially since I come from the land of the
fruitcake. I agree with Johnny Carson. Nobody eats them. They
just save them for a year and give them to somebody else for
Christmas.
But I digress again. The combination of full moon fever and
Chinese fireworks are something no Calico cat should be without.
I've written before about what the citizens can unleash here.
Firecrackers 3 feet (1 meter) tall and such. But, this year, for
the first time ever, I've seen military fireworks. If the army
ever runs short of artillery, I'll know why.
The sky was a canvas. Off to the left, the full moon. In the
forefront, an artistic mixing of colors, understatement and
overstatement, loud and quiet. Some very impressive things
that looked like red lanterns (holiday symbol) trailed by white
tails. Descending quite slowly, as other "regular" fireworks
were ignited all around. And then, when finally the lanterns
grew dim, enough smoke to stop the show for a minute or so.
The first explosion in this thirty-minute bombfest woke up
Picasso and almost gave her a heart attack. Flying through the
flat, bushy tail the size of the rest of her body. Then she
suddenly realized that she'd been startled into running TOWARD
the noise. After that, though, she was cool. Watching out the
window close to us.
I was pleased to note that I could see this out the window. The
mob on the street was, well, a mob. Be sure to pee before you
join that lot, because you're stuck until they let you go. If
they can.
When the show began, some people ran toward the scene while
others ran away from it. The couple carrying the baby got a
chuckle out of me. Jeez, you could traumatize a kid for life
that way. I've also gotta wonder how many of the pregnant women
we saw were stunned into premature labor. Yeah, my mind works
in mysterious ways. (If it works at all...)
Early the next morning, all paper had been swept away. But not
the gunpowder. They just kinda shoved it off to the sides of
the bridge and waited for it to rain. We're still waiting. Hey,
it works for me.
I'll tell you what I saw during the WHO MOVED MY RICE? edit. In
the early chapters, my naivete made me positively cringe. Funny
at times, but also quite embarrassing. Note that I didn't edit
any of it out. It's an honest snapshot of what was going on in
my mind. As I told my Advanced English Writing students in
Hangzhou at least 100 times, "never lie to your reader." I'm
pleased to report that I grew up (somewhat) before the book
ended.
I also saw that WHO MOVED MY RICE? was written by some guy who
was far more extroverted than I've been in Shaoxing thus far.
More extroverted than I've been in any place except Hangzhou, in
fact. I've withdrawn inside my head again. I need to work on
that. Really, that author was out there meeting people, language
barrier be damned, and you can feel his excitement. Now he just
shops, teaches and writes.
Meanwhile, if you were enjoying RISING FROM THE ASHES before I
cut it short, or even if you weren't, here are a few thoughts. If
you are writing a biography or autobiography, I strongly
recommend composite scenes, so it doesn't get too boring. Also,
where memory fails, make stuff up, as long as it's true to your
vision and faithful to the spirit of truth. Jeez, who can
remember all that?
{RISING will be back. Eventually. I've got a stepmother who'd
make Cinderella count her blessings.}
Oh, and let me ax you something. WHO MOVED MY RICE? Is that a
difficult title to remember? It's a blatant ripoff of WHO MOVED
MY CHEESE?, another food item and another book about adapting to
change. Right? It's not Who HAS Moved My Rice, it's not Who
STOLE My Rice, it's not Who ATE My Rice, it's not Jerry Rice. Why
is that so difficult for some people to grasp? WHO MOVED MY RICE?
by Michael LaRocca. The simplest title I've ever used.
(Misspelling Michael and/or LaRocca is common, but that's another
story. And Jerry Rice is one of my heroes. I wonder if I can get
a blurb out of him...)
Please vote for this Ezine at the Cumuli Ezine Finder.
http://www.cumuli.com/ezines/vte.html?ez=bookso
If you're a new subscriber, or even if you're not, your free gifts
are at http://freereads.topcities.com/freebooksonthenet.html
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This newsletter is copyright (c) 2004 Michael LaRocca. It may be
reprinted freely, in whole or in part, if a credit to
http://freereads.topcities.com/archive.html is included.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
REJECTED CHILDREN'S BOOKS
Anonymous
You're Different and That's Bad
Pop! Goes The Hamster ... and Other Great Microwave Games
Testing Homemade Parachutes Using Only Your Household Pets
The Care Bears Maul Some Campers
The Boy Who Died From Eating His Vegetables
Why There Is Only One Smurfette
Starting a Real Estate Empire with the Change from Mom's Purse!
Controlling the Playground: How to Bully Your Way to Top Dog
Things Rich Kids Have, But You Never Will
The Hardy Boys, Nancy Drew and the Vice Squad
Babar Meets the Taxidermist
Mr. Ed Meets Elmer's Glue Factory
Horton Hears Coke Snortin'
Curious George and the High-voltage Fence
Dad's New Wife Timothy
The Pop-up Book of Human Anatomy
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
SCHOOL TEACHER ARRESTED
Anonymous
At New York's Kennedy Airport today, an individual, later
discovered to be a school teacher, was arrested for trying to
board a flight while in possession of a ruler, protractor, set
square, slide rule and calculator.
At a morning press conference, Attorney General John Ashcroft
said he believes the man is a member of the notorious al-gebra
movement. He is being charged by the FBI with carrying weapons
of mass instruction.
"Al-gebra is a fearsome cult," Ashcroft said. "They desire
average solutions by means and extremes, and sometimes go off on
tangents in search of absolute value. They use secret code names
like 'x' and 'y' and refer to themselves as 'unknowns,' but we
have determined they belong to a common denominator of the axis
of medieval with coordinates in every country. As the Greek
philanderer Isoceles used to say, 'There are three sides to
every triangle.'"
When asked to comment on the arrest, President Bush said, "If
God had wanted us to have better weapons of math instruction,
He would have given us more fingers to count on."
{Bush's inbred six-fingered redneck cousins weren't available
for comment. I wonder how many toes Dubya has.}
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
SEVENTY-TWO SECRET ARTS OF MONKS FROM THE SHAOLIN MONASTERY
http://www.kungfulibrary.com/shaolin-kung-fu-4.htm
1. Mo zhang - The grinding palm
2. Feng zhang - The windy palm
3. Liuxin zhang - The rocket palm
4. Chuanso zhang - The shuttle palm
5. Tui shan zhang - The palm pushing a mountain
{In case Mohammed won't go to the mountain?}
6. Pi chai zhang - The palm cutting wood
7. Chen zhuan zhang - The palm breaking bricks
8. Jin zhusa zhang - The palm with iron grasp
9. Jin gou shou - The iron hook-like arm
10. Wa yan shou - The hand tearing out eyes
11. Tanglang shou - The leg of an Mantodea
12. Bai she xin shou - The hand as accurate as a spittle of the
white snake
{That's always been one of my goals}
13. Hei hou tiao shou - The black tiger jumps over a mountain
14. Heihu zhua lian shou - The claws of the black tiger grasping
the face
15. She mao shou - The hand like a snake-shaped blade
16. Bai xin shou - The hand of eight wizards
17. Zhin cha zhi - The finger like a gold pin
18. Zhou zhi - The bamboo finger, the finger like a bamboo stick
19. Wu kua hongqian zhi - Five fingers like red flower pistil
20. Zhin gong zuan zhi - The piercing finger as hard as a diamond
21. Cuan xin zhi - The finger piercing the heart
22. Tou gu zhi - The finger punching holes in bones
23. Yi zhi jin - The finger as hard as metal
24. Chan si zhou - The elbow with a cord wound on it
25. Go xin zhou - The elbow punching the heart
26. Po yin zhou - The elbow breaking Yin
27. Niu chan tui - The dislocated thigh
{Mine or yours?}
28. Pe zhu gan - A bamboo fighting pole
29. Gu shu pan gen - Twisted roots of a dry tree
30. Te wu gen di - The iron buffalo ploughs soil
31. Fei mai qiao - The leg flying like a feather
32. Hei xian feng - The black water-spout
33. Tie sazou - The iron broom
34. Hou tiao qian - The monkey jumping over a wall
35. Yian qu shui - The swallow drinks water
36. Chang e bian yue - Sorceress Chan E ascends the moon
37. Tian gou chi yang - The Heaven's Dog eats the Sun
38. Ha mo zu tian - The toad drills the sky
39. Gang jin juan - The diamond fist
40. Shi kai hua - The stone blossoms out like a flower
41. Zuan xin chui - The hammer punching the heart
42. Lu kai hua - The skull blooming out like a flower
43. Duan mu zhuang - To break a wooden stove-couch
44. Ti jie shi - To break a stone with a leg
45. Fang feng Zhen - Zhen releases winds
{So do I, sometimes, but I prefer not to brag about it}
46. Da shai dai - To strike at a sand bag
47. Fen mu guan - The coffin broken into pieces
{A pretty good trick if you can do it from inside}
48. Dai tie wa - To wear iron hoops
49. Diao shaku - To hang trousers with sand
50. Yue ying jian - To jump over a moon abyss
51. Feng xuan ai - The flight from a steep precipice
52. Go wu ji - To jump over a roof gable
53. Zuo liu xing - The rocket stance
{As sung by William Shatner}
54. Taishan zhuan - The pole like the Taishan mountain
{I think they promised that in my email}
55. Xin yi ba - The heart and mind clench
56. Qi wei chuan dong - The bristling hedgehog strikes a hole
{I thought monks were celibate}
57. Suang to yue - To embrace the moon
58. Tie gan tui - The leg like an iron pole
{Another email}
59. Kao re guo - The cauldron heated on fire
60. Zuai ti deng - To throw down a stool by a foot
61. Lu da gun - The ass's strike
{Wow...}
62. Zhai she zu - The foot digging soil
63. Guang chuan tie bu shan - To put on an iron shirt on the
naked body
{Iron pants at the temple next door}
64. Wu kong fan jin dou - Wu Kong fights against sinew
dislocations
{Always a good idea}
65. Tian bing xia fan - The Celestial Soldier descends the sky
66. Da murien - To strike a man of wood
67. Xie zi zou lu - The scorpion crawls along the road
{To get to the other side}
68. Qian jintui - The leg weighing one thousand jins
69. Zha yan huan zuo deng - To change in an instant the stool
70. Luohan shen gong - Luohan's magic feat
71. Jiao long nu kong - The coiling dragon growls in wrath
72. Qi guan qi mao - The breath "chi" washes the hair on the skin
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
THE STUPIDEST DEATHS IN KNOWN HISTORY
Anonymous
- Tycho Brahe
An important Danish astronomer of the 16th century. His ground-
breaking research allowed Sir Isaac Newton to come up with the
theory of gravity.
How he died: Didn't get to the bathroom in time
In the 16th century, it was considered an insult to leave a
banquet table before the meal was over. Brahe, known to drink
excessively, had a bladder condition -- but failed to relieve
himself before the banquet started. He made matters worse by
drinking too much at dinner, and was too polite to ask to be
excused. His bladder finally burst, killing him slowly and
painfully over the next 11 days.
{The editor must comment on this one. It appears in CHINA
DAILY almost, well, daily. But it usually involves a game of
mah-jonng. We thank the Party for such cautionary tales.}
=====
- Horace Wells
Pioneered the use of anesthesia in the 1840s
How he died: Used anesthetics to commit suicide
While experimenting with various gases during his anesthesia
research, Wells became addicted to chloroform. In 1848 he was
arrested for spraying two women with sulfuric acid. In a letter
he wrote from jail, he blamed chloroform for his problems,
claiming that he'd gotten high before the attack. Four days later
he was found dead in his cell. He'd anaesthetized himself with
chloroform and slashed open his thigh with a razor.
=====
- Aeschylus
A Greek playwright back around 500 BC. Many historians consider
him the father of Greek tragedies, and little old Michael in
Shaoxing agrees with them.
How he died: An eagle dropped a tortoise on his head
According to legend, eagles picked up tortoises and attempted to
crack them open by dropping them on rocks. An eagle mistook
Aeschylus' head for a rock (he was bald) and dropped it on him
instead.
{How would you break the news to his widow? No pun intended.
Really.}
=====
- Attila the Hun
One of the most notorious villains in history, Attila's army had
conquered all of Asia by 450 AD -- from Mongolia to the edge of
the Russian Empire -- by destroying villages and pillaging the
countryside.
How he died: He got a nosebleed on his wedding night
In 453 AD, Attila married a young girl named Ildico. Despite his
reputation for ferocity on the battlefield, he tended to eat and
drink lightly during large banquets. On his wedding night,
however, he really cut loose, gorging himself on food and drink.
Some time during the night he suffered a nosebleed, but was too
drunk to notice. He drowned in his own blood and was found dead
the next morning.
=====
- Francis Bacon
One of the most influential minds of the late 16th century. A
statesman, philosopher, writer, and scientist, he was even
rumored to have written some of Shakespeare's plays.
How he died: Stuffing snow into a chicken
One afternoon in 1625, Bacon was watching a snowstorm and was
struck by the wondrous notion that maybe snow could be used to
preserve meat in the same way that salt was used. Determined to
find out, he purchased a chicken from a nearby village, killed
it, and then, standing outside in the snow, attempted to stuff
the chicken full of snow to freeze it. The chicken never froze,
but Bacon did.
{Clarence Birdseye...}
=====
- Jerome Irving Rodale
Founding father of the organic food movement, creator of "Organic
Farming and Gardening" magazine, and founder of Rodale Press, a
major publishing corporation.
How he died: On the "Dick Cavett Show," while discussing the
benefits of organic foods.
Rodale, who bragged, "I'm going to live to be 100 unless I'm run
down by a sugar-crazed taxi driver," was only 72 when he appeared
on the "Dick Cavett Show" in January 1971. Partway through the
interview, he dropped dead in his chair. Cause of death: a heart
attack. The show was never aired.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
WHO MOVED MY RICE?
Copyright 2004, Michael LaRocca
CHAPTER TWO
Settling In
In the two years I lived in Hong Kong, I can count the number of
spontaneous conversations I had on one hand. Let's contrast that
with Hangzhou.
On day three, I was at the Internet cafe when someone asked me to
translate a word for him. The word was drain, the context that
Enron drained some folks' savings. This led to a fifteen-minute
conversation.
My new friend is named Jack. He graduated from the school where I
will be teaching, and now weaves silk. (The place where I teach
offers many majors, and fashion design is one of them. It was
formerly known as Silk University.)
Jack has great respect for teachers. They engineer the human mind.
His sister is a teacher. Even though I introduced myself as
Michael, he insisted on calling me Mr. Michael.
On day four, my wife and I were walking around West Lake. Very
beautiful and relaxing and peaceful, but we chose a bad day. A
cold winter day. This was destined to be a short visit.
As we were taking photos of each other before searching out a
taxi, a man on a bicycle offered to take our photo together.
After that, we revised his resume, which was in English. Then we
were treated to a long conversation about Hangzhou job opportuni-
ties, immigration, changes, the fact that he's unemployed, how
hard it is to move to America ("Uncle Sam") or Australia, and the
fact that he misses Mao.
Day six, I was at the Internet cafe again when Echo introduced
himself. He is a current student where I teach. He's a fashion
major, but my first three months or so will be spent teaching
English majors, so I won't teach him. Nonetheless, he offered to
help me find my way around Hangzhou if I ever need him. Name,
phone number, email address. He also recommended a website that
could be useful.
Unlike Jack, who was reading his email and some news headlines on
Excite, Echo was shopping for electric guitars.
Why was I at an Internet cafe? I ordered my broadband, something
I was too cheap to spring for in Hong Kong, but they needed about
a week to run the cable. Normally it would be faster, but let's
not forget that I arrived during the most important holiday
season in China. So, for 2 yuan (US 25 cents) an hour, I hang out
at the Internet cafe.
I suppose I could ask my Western colleagues to show me the
computer room, but I just don't feel like it. The lady running
the Internet cafe is very nice. She watches TV, sleeps on her
desk, cooks... If customers show up, fine. If not, fine. She's
just hanging out, much like everyone else who's staying home for
the holidays.
Besides, if I used the computer room, I wouldn't have this chance
to meet my students before the school year begins.
http://www.booksunbound.com/bsmr.html
ISBN 1-59201-031-8
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This newsletter is copyright (c) 2004 Michael LaRocca. It may be
reprinted freely, in whole or in part, but only if a credit to
http://freereads.topcities.com/archive.html is included.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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WHO MOVED MY RICE?
Copyright 2004, Michael LaRocca
Published September 30, 2004 by Books Unbound
http://www.booksunbound.com/bsmr.html
ISBN 1-59201-031-8
CHAPTER ONE
First Impressions of Hangzhou
February 6, 2002
The short version can be stated in four words: I love it here!
Some of you may have read what I wrote about our Guilin honeymoon
in a previous book. Many of those things that I loved so much
about Guilin were immediately evident in my new home. Some I'd
forgotten.
Beautiful scenery, no skyscrapers, and so much quieter than Hong
Kong. Nicer people, and I don't really mean to insult Hong Kong
with that statement. But folks in Hong Kong tend to be close to
their families, obsessed with doing their jobs and accumulating
wealth, and willfully ignorant of anything else about their
surroundings. Hangzhou is different. Same thing I noticed in
Guilin. Here, people like talking to other people.
A common vehicle in Guilin is the Volkswagen Santana. They're
also common here, and now I know why. They're the result of the
first successful joint venture between Shanghai and the Germans.
Every taxi (and every police car) I've seen here is a Volkswagen
Santana. I love that name, even though it probably has nothing to
do with the musician.
Here we also have the bicycles that have been converted via chain
or belt drive into three-wheelers and covered with sheet metal to
act as mini-trucks. Some have seats back there. They're called
pedicabs. And there are also the motorcycles that have been
likewise converted, the motorized pedicabs.
The bicycles. Remember that little rack across the back fender for
carrying things? People sit on them sideways here. Folks with kids
strap chairs back there, and the tiniest little dudes can hang on
without any trouble. I've seen a new modification. Now those
chairs are covered in case of bad weather, usually with flashy
plastic things that have cartoon characters on them.
Another new thing to me. Bicycle lanes. In Guilin, I saw all
Kinds of vehicles sharing the road in harmony. Here, if you stand
in front of a building, you see the sidewalk. Beyond that, the
bicycle lane. Beyond that, a barrier. Beyond that, the road.
Beyond that, another barrier, another bicycle lane, another
sidewalk, and then more buildings.
Another new thing here is the buses running via wires strung up
high like cable car wires. Talk about innovation in
environmentalism.
I love our flat. Standing in the sunroom, looking out the window
and just watching traffic. Folks can ride their bicycles side by
side and carry on a conversation. Plus, the flat's much roomier
than what I'd gotten used to in Hong Kong. The tallest buildings
I've seen are about six stories, not the glass and steel
monstrosity that is Hong Kong.
You know how some places preserve the old buildings in a historic
district, and elsewhere they just tear down everything and build
new skyscrapers? I prefer the Hangzhou approach. If the old
building works, leave it. If you need a new one, pop it in. So I
can see old concrete and new glass-steel side by side.
It took me at least five minutes to realize we were driving on the
right side of the road. Just like back home in the US. Opposite
from Hong Kong. Not that it's really a big deal. I haven't driven
in over two years anyway.
Hangzhou, incidentally, has six million people. Three million in
the city, three million in the suburbs. That's a long way from
where I lived before traveling to Asia. Watha, North Carolina,
population 98.
Back in Guilin, my tour guide told me it was a very small city.
Only 200,000 people. Very small. I whipped out Watha's population
and watched his eyes bug out. I will do that to someone in
Hangzhou.
Our plane landed, and we hauled out the luggage, in the
ridiculously large weight of 90 kg. About 200 lb, I think. I want
to kiss the man who thought of putting wheels on suitcases.
We were met by our future employer, "Harry" Huang Haijun. Our
Foreign Affairs Officer. The man most responsible for determin-
ing whether our lives in China would be heaven or hell. I didn't
know it when I arrived, but he may be the best there is. He
genuinely cares about people. His name is known by many Western-
ers who have never taught at this school. Most schools have less
than six Westerners, and most FAOs have at least two assistants.
Harry was working with eight Westerners and no assistant, and he
still met us at the airport personally.
Harry also brought a driver. Three bags, three men. No problem.
Into the van, then through the city.
My first sight was of some beautiful homes mixed in with much
farmland. When I say beautiful, think dollhouse. It's the best
analogy I can come up with. Four stories high, not exactly
large, decorated as if there were wallpaper running along them.
Many colors, many with polka dots and such. No two alike. Laundry
drying on the bushes and trees.
Then, the suspension bridge. Then the busy city, and finally our
flat.
That's where I met my first non-English speaker. Right at the
entrance to my apartment is a locksmith's stand. He does almost
no business that I've seen, but he has a comfortable leather chair
and people come visit him all day long just to talk.
I was finally able to say "Ni hao." I learned that phrase three
years ago when a coworker went to Beijing. But that's Mandarin,
and the folks in Hong Kong speak Cantonese, so I couldn't use it
before.
When we arrived, four or five security guards joined us to haul up
the luggage. They didn't want me to help, but I did anyway. Gotta
be a redneck, you know.
One hour later, we had unpacked all that stuff and were going out
for dinner. My wife and I, another Western couple who teaches
here, and Harry. At the restaurant we met the head of the Foreign
Languages Department. That's our department, as English is a
foreign language here.
We were a great mix, incidentally. By nature, my wife and I aren't
big talkers. Neither are Harry and his associate. But that was
fine, because the other Western couple loves to take over a social
gathering.
We were escorted past the public dining area and into a private
room. Total privacy to talk about the job, the fact that four
countries were represented by the six people at the table, snow,
or whatever. Yup, it may snow here. I haven't seen snow in about
25 years, back when I used to see it every year at Christmastime.
In the center of the round table was a rotating gizmo, where the
servers regularly placed different dishes. Hangzhou is known for
its country cooking. As I've written elsewhere, my favorite
Chinese food is country cooking.
I had to shake the rust off my chopstick skills again, and then I
ate many foods I can't name but which were wonderful. I even tried
the Mountain Frog, brought to the table on a steaming plate and
with a dramatic flourish. Excellent. I chose not to eat the skins,
though. Likewise on the fish.
On my third bowl of soup, when I picked out the bird head, I
simply put it to the side and ate the soup it had been in. Yummy.
Seriously, it took me two years of living in Hong Kong (China
Lite) before I got up the courage to do what I should've been
doing all along, which is trying new things.
That's one thing I love about living in Asia. You know how you do
stuff the same way you've always done it, just because that's how
you've always done it? Nothing wrong with that, but one should try
looking at that stuff from a different point of view sometimes.
It's also great fun to look at building after building, sidewalk
stand after sidewalk stand, bustle of activity after bustle of
activity, and have absolutely no clue what any of it is.
At one point, Harry asked his colleague (in Chinese) where one
could buy cat food. Actually, he said dog food. His colleague
misunderstood the question, and told me (in English), "Yes, you
can get dog meat at this restaurant."
Yes, our cat was definitely the center of attention long before
her arrival. The other Western couple asked us, "Is she a special
breed?" She's not, but she's still quite special.
Culturally, China's not so far from Hong Kong. The only adjustment
for me is that almost nobody speaks English and the signs aren't
bilingual. But for the other Western couple, all is new and
different.
Chinese toilets seem to be a big deal. They're a hole in the
ground that one must squat over. Also, one always carries tissues
because there is no toilet paper in them. The lady has no
kneecaps, thus she can't squat. Instead, she has to take off her
pants and aim at the hole standing. But that's only in public
and on one of the campuses. In all our flats are Western toilets.
I can use either type just fine.
As for the language, Mandarin is one I can learn. I'm picking it
up slowly although I usually get the tones wrong, I've got my
phrase books, and Harry was kind enough to give us a printed list
of places we might want to go with the names in both languages so
we can point for the taxi drivers.
Many years ago, I found myself working on an all-Mexican hog farm.
As I taught my coworkers English -- they were quite eager to learn
-- they taught me Spanish. I've forgotten it since then, except
for the profanity. But I can see myself learning Mandarin as
quickly as I once learned Spanish, so I know I'll be fine.
The next morning, we piled into a van along with Harry, the other
Western couple, a driver, and a professor from the IT department.
We were told it was to go to a supermarket. This is another joint
venture between the Chinese and the Germans.
It's not a supermarket, folks. It's a massive venture that makes
Sam's Club back in the US look small. I kid you not, it sells
anything and everything known to man. So now, when Harry pops off
for his vacation, nobody will die of starvation while he's gone.
Before we left for that supermarket, a lovely old lady grabbed my
arm and spoke to my wife and me in Mandarin. She pointed at our
flat and at the campus. Just that fast, she knew where we lived
and where we worked. She's wonderful. I must learn her language
simply to talk to her.
Since then, I've been to another large supermarket. Three stories.
Clothes on the first floor. Then up to the third for hardware,
bedding, bathroom and more clothes. Then down to the second for
food and checkout lanes. Utter chaos. They shop like they drive.
They're loud. People with bullhorns advertising their wares. My
legs are bruised and my ears are ringing.
We were given many apologies about the condition of the flat. No
microwave or shower curtain yet, for example, and the TV didn't
have cable yet. This is because we arrived in the middle of the
Lunar New Year celebration. Many of our co-workers are on holiday.
As is everybody. But we knew that before we got here. We just
wanted to get out of Hong Kong.
Harry was obviously afraid that we'd be left alone wandering the
streets or something. But guess what? We like it that way. That's
why we're here now and not in three weeks when the job starts.
Time to play tourist! Oh yeah, and settle in and such.
The flat is larger than what we were renting in Hong Kong. The
school is providing it to us. They have on-campus housing and
off-campus housing. We chose off. Meaning, right next door to the
campus where we can watch guards marching or kids playing and
such. There is always something interesting to watch out the
windows. Who needs cable anyway?
The flat has a large bedroom, a kitchen with dining room, a shower
and laundry room, a small bathroom with Western toilet, and an
office/workroom almost as large as the bedroom. Leading from there
is an enclosed balcony with windows all around. We call it the
sunroom. Also known as the cat's room.
I saw that we had a brand new washing machine, but no dryer. Did
you ever wonder why you use an electric dryer when air-drying
works just as well?
So I looked up at the ceiling of my sunroom and saw a metal thing
on each end that looked something like an inverted, five-pronged
pitchfork. Aha! I walked around the corner and bought some rope
for 50 cents US, then tied it up there to make a clothesline.
In the corner, on the floor, was a metal, pronged thing that I'd
originally thought was a barbecue tong. Which made no sense, as
nobody would barbecue there. Not so. It's for grabbing hangers and
slapping those wet clothes up onto the line.
And that's something else I missed when I was in Hong Kong. I'm a
builder and a handyman, a totally useless skill in Hong Kong. Now
if we'd moved in here after the holiday, that line would've been
ready for us. But it wouldn't have been nearly as much fun.
I'm a celebrity here, by the way. I go out and walk for about an
hour every day, partly to shop and partly just to see the place.
People regularly yell at me. "Hello!" One shoeshine man yelled
"Hello! You are very cute!" Soon after, I let him shine my boots.
Is it my hair, which is a bit long and therefore curly? Is it my
new beard, which is red? Or is it just that I'm a Westerner, and
there aren't a whole lot of us here? Probably all of that.
When my wife and I go out together, it's a toss-up who's more
worthy of stares. I've got this hair, and I'm taller than most
southern Chinese. My wife is tall and blondish, with broad
shoulders and lots of freckles. We're a traveling freak show.
I often see people riding their bicycles without looking at where
they are going because I'm more interesting to look at. One
person actually stopped and stared. And when my wife and I were
standing on the sidewalk with the other Western couple, one
fellow couldn't help but stare at us, his head at a 135-degree
angle from his body. We all waved at him.
I can't help but wonder what would happen if Big Jim ever came to
Hangzhou. That's my daddy. He's 6'4", maybe 280 pounds, almost
triangular in shape. Nobody in the world has a chest as big as
Daddy, certainly not in Hangzhou. And if they think I've got a
hairy face, they ain't seen nuthin' yet. Probably bicycles would
be crashing all over the place. Maybe even a car or two.
I've been teaching for a week. The kids are wonderful. Okay, not
kids--this is tertiary education. But I'm gonna call them kids
anyway, and I mean it in a nice way. We're still getting to know
each other, of course, so it's too soon to write about them. But
I'm loving it.
My wife, needless to say, is doing just fine. She's teaching.
That's what she does. She's been doing it for fifteen years, I
think. She spent three of those in Hong Kong, but really that's
not teaching. That's rote memorization and regurgitation for
exams. Here in Hangzhou, we teach. I'm also learning.
So it's possible I'll write about my students next month. It's
even possible that they'll all meet Picasso.
I've also seen that they have basketball courts, and I bought a
basketball. No doubt I'll join my kids for a game and tell them
that I went to school with Michael Jordan. It's the truth.
However, I guarantee you that I will not slam-dunk.
http://www.booksunbound.com/bsmr.html
ISBN 1-59201-031-8
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This newsletter is copyright (c) 2004 Michael LaRocca. It may be
reprinted freely, in whole or in part, but only if a credit to
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So we don't wander too far from our roots as a blog-for-writers-who-promote-their-works, I'm going to devote Wednesdays from now on to writers and writing. Submissions are welcomed and hoped-for!
Anything from short essays on the writer's life, newsbits on your next book/booksigning, book reviews -- it's all fair game!
Send your submissions to me at twschuett-at-peoplepc.com by 9a.m. PDT Wednesday.
I'll post whatever I get!
Now, how did that one get away from me?
At About.com:
Banned Books Week is observed each year at the end of September to remind us of our first amendment rights.Each year, books in our schools and libraries are challenged as inappropriate for one reason or another. Few books are actually removed from the shelves, however, and this is largely due to the efforts of teachers and librarians to keep the books in their collections and educate the public on their right to read what they want to read.
Public Library Association President Clara N. Bohrer responds to national CD settlement, distribution to public libraries
Chicago -- In theory there is much to like about the 2002 settlement of a lawsuit filed by New York and Florida against three of the United States' largest music retailers. The settlement provided $67.4 million in consumer refunds and roughly 7 million free music CDs valued at $75.7 million to America's public libraries and schools.
Just because it's on C-SPAN doesn't mean it's all about political books! There's usually something worth watching every weekend. They also cover the major book fairs. Check the schedule here.
THX to Doc Searls for the reminder!
From Tom Smith at The Right Coast:
My premise is that English departments, bookstores, the whole cultural infrastructure has marginalized the sort of great or near great books that many guys would enjoy. Instead, there are an infinite number of novels about the family lives of minority persons struggling with their new lives in NYC/London/ whereever. The Joy Luck Club, etc. etc.
If you've got ideas here, let him know! He wants to establish a list of "Guy Lit" books -- makes sense to me!
At Harlequin, we believe that publishing fiction for women is a vibrant and rewarding business, and that it is our responsibility to develop and enrich our various programs in order to bring new opportunities to our authors and fresh and relevant reading experiences to our readers.
The development of new publishing programs and continued innovation within existing programs is the backbone of our approach to the business. We are driven by what our readers tell us is relevant to
them, are totally focused on the women's fiction market and we constantly look for ways in which to lead rather than follow the competition.
