My Life as Adoga

Here’s a selection of excerpts from the 2011 English translation (by C.J. Anderson-Wu) of Chung Wenyin’s 1998 novel, Woman Islands ( 女島紀行 ). I provide it here in the hope that it might entice students and scholars, especially those with an interest in Women’s Studies and Feminist Literature, to consider taking up this book as a subject for literary criticism. I have straightened up the grammatical style of the original translation that had attempted to portray the “untranslatable” style of the Chinese text and the author’s insistence upon “maintaining the awkwardness of her writing instead of smoothing it out for English readers.”  Although I can appreciate that desire, I chose instead to alter some of the sentence constructions that might come across as more a result of poor proofreading than of conscious choice by the translator. I’m going to hope this won’t be a problem, and I apologize in advance if anyone is offended by my editing choices. But then again, if you want to see...

Once we figured out how to order vegetables, fruit, and other supplies using online delivery services, life under self-imposed “isolation” has become far less anxious. Indeed, I have long been partial to staying at home and avoiding public spaces, though I confess that I miss the bookstore. Just yesterday I was wishing I could go out to see if any new titles have come in. It actually feels good to avoid going out (shopping, or even strolling the neighborhood) because I can tell myself I’m contributing to the nation’s struggle against the ongoing pandemic. Even though I am just one person, I’ve removed myself from any possible chains of transmission. Meanwhile, the days continue to fly by. The government this week extended the “Level 3” pandemic containment measures to July 12, meaning we must wear a mask when outdoors, restaurants cannot offer indoor seating, movie theaters and other recreational places are closed, and there are limits on the number of people who can enter supermar...

The average annual rainfall in Taiwan varies by region, with Taipei famous for cold and wet winters while Kaohsiung enjoys cool and dry winters. Summers give the south more rainfall, while the north usually enjoys one month of afternoon thunderstorms. But for the entire island the precious system of dams relies upon typhoons to get filled for use all year. With climate change, however, we have been experiencing fewer such storms. This year we've had none at all. The dam in Tainan has become a grassy green playground. Fortunately for the north we have had over a month of almost daily downpour, so our dam is forced to release overflow. Always in terror of drought, I will not complain about the constant rain. I just wish my landlord would allow me to collect it in buckets and barrels on the roof, if only for keeping my garden going during the dry months that climate change threatens us with. We already were facing threats of water rationing before this current wet season began.  ...

With his usual insight my friend and poet Jaya posted these questions to his Facebook page. Synchronicity once again, as I read this after having concluded a discussion about Paris as a tourist destination--a discussion that took place in a train station coffee shop prior to boarding. I was arguing against a recent newspaper article that said Paris was a disappointing tourist venue. My experience was that if you are a romantic in the classical sense, then Paris is a city of awe in which past and present line, and the ghosts of history mingle with the living.  But Jaya's post hit my heart in another way, reminding me of my own status as a "permanent immigrant," the grandson of migrants who was to answer Destiny's call to continue their journey away from the heart of Europe.  Spiritually, and we are all migrant souls, destined to move on when these bodies fail us. I wonder if you also can feel in your blood that there is another part of the journey beyond this seemingly...

I am enjoying another East Coast Driving Holiday with Joe. Yesterday we drove from Hualien to Taitung between the mountain ranges. Today we will drive the Coastal road until reaching highway 30 that goes West through the mountains and meets up again with the valley highway back to Hualien. Tomorrow morning we have an early morning train back to Taipei. The scenery is beautiful, but the highway has been re-designed so that the emergency lanes are now motorcycle lanes, and stopping to take photos is discouraged. And though Joe promised not to gripe when I want to stop or explore someplace, he still managed to slip in a passive aggressive complaint: "I don't like to take too many photos, myself," or "The way back to the highway is if you turn right here." That's OK. If I was allowed to explore as much as I liked, we'd be heading West instead of South, and end up on the West Coast! But I do miss being in the mountains. This trip has forced me to accept...

With that ever-present goal of achieving productivity over the summer break, I spent some time this afternoon on the HSR to Kaohsiung composing an essay I want to send to the Taipei Times. Joe further encouraged me to organize a forum of important business leaders to speak about the relationship between reading fiction and success in business & life.  But where to begin. Joe says I should start with David's wife, whose boss is a major public advocate for the arts. This sounds very doable. How to begin?