Raise the Water Level

Above photograph is taken from
http://www.zhanghuan.com/ShowWorkContent.asp?id=39&iParentID=21&mid=1
There is a synopsis at the web page to explain the picture.


I don't like to be in the sea or the pool. I don't know how to swim, and I fear that I may drown. I am fine with a river cruise, or a voyage on a yacht, or a ride on a ferry, as long as the journey is short. I love to feel the sea breeze on my skin, but I get seasick. I look at the water surface, wondering at the secrets underneath. I stare at the distant shore and horizon and lament at the unreachable. I marvel at the waves, the tide, the current, the sound of water hitting shore, the mysterious forces of nature at work. The vast expanse of water makes me feel insignificant, and I realise that my existence is trivial, and nothing really matters, so what's the point of thinking about anything.


As I look at this picture, I am even more convinced that the lake, the sea, the pond, the river, are not for us to go into. We are not marine creatures. We can't conquer the sea. Why get into deep water ? In the Chinese language, above sea could mean Shanghai, and into the sea is the beginning of a life of darkness and misery.


Many times in history, the water levels had been raised by throwing bodies into the river, the canal, maybe even the well. Today we throw a lot more. Industrial waste. Into the water. Into the earth. Into the space. We still throw bodies into the sea. I recall the Archimedes Principle I learnt in the science lessons at school. An object immersed in a fluid is buoyed up by a force equal to the weight of the object.


Some walk into the sea and not want to walk away. Some dive into a river and remain submerged. The water gives life and the water takes life away. The problems in the mind, the thoughts, the emotions that weigh a ton on my shoulder, are weightless in the water.

Adaptations

There seems a flood of drama adaptations lately. Perhaps it was because there was an Arts Festival focusing on performing arts in the past month. Or it could be that after attending a 15-hour course exploring the difference and effectiveness of films that have been adapted from plays, I just became more aware of drama adaptations.

I made a regular trip to the City Hall to collect flyers of coming performances. As I sat down for my lunch, I looked through the flyers again.

One said Taming of the Shrew. “This all-new Academy production offers a modern interpretation of the Shakespeare’s classics…. will provide new insights on this battle of love.” I ponder on the word 'modern'. Perhaps Katherina is a powerful female executive holding a top position of a large corporation. But during this modern day, will any younger daughter eager and ready to wed patiently wait for her elder sister to get married first ? In fact, the majority of the younger population may not have a sibling, since the birth rate is below 2%.

I move on to the next flyer. Cherry Inc. Inspired by Anton Chekhov’s The Cherry Orchard. And a web URL address. That was all the English that appeared on the second flyer. Reading the Chinese synopsis, the story transgress twenty years from 1988 to 2008 on how Alvin and Billy, having nothing initially, managed to build a business empire through buyouts, including an usurpation of their benefactor's properties and company. That doesn't sound exactly like Cherry Orchard. How is this related to Anton's play, I wondered. "It took a lifetime for a peasant to become rich then. The story of Cherry Orchard could take place many times within a lifetime today." (my best effort translation into English). So, we can always relate two different pieces of work by "inspiration". Perhaps the muse hit us all, but differently.

Moving on to the next one. Frankenstein. I have seen the flyer previously. Maybe it's because I haven't read the book, and hence I have not had the chance to be impressed by Frankenstein. Perhaps it could be that the last theatre I watched at the same venue that Frankenstein is being performed was a let-down. Or it's simply I am suffering momentarily from theatre fatigue. For reasons not clear to me, I am not keen to see this theatre adaptation from a novel.

The proliferation of adaptations say much about how difficult it is to create a story. A story with credible, interesting characters. A plot which is engaging. Credible, but not necessary realistic. Harry Potter fans do not believe Harry Potter exists, but what does that matter ? We need to escape from our monotonous life and live in a fantasy, or live another life, temporarily. We want to mock at, to be laughed at, to cry, to be terrified, to be overwhelmed, to be enraged, to be saddened. We have to find someone who understand, a playwright, a director, an actor. The production doesn't have to be original, but we need to see something different, in the sense that we haven't seen it that way previously. Dialogues that resonate more, words that strike a chord now, characters that we understand or sympathize or despise or love or hate more or less than before. This other world of theatre that is startling, beautiful, tragic, comical, dazzling, powerful, shocking, mysterious, imaginary, help me to comprehend my own world better. It helps me to adapt to my world.

Beatrice and Virgil afterthoughts

Beatrice and Virgil, a book by Yann Martel, is on holocaust. The holocaust of any living things. Harry the writer who gave up on his attempt to write his book on holocaust met Harry the taxidermist who has been trying almost all his life to write a play in which Virgil, a howler monkey, and Beatrice, a donkey, are the main characters. Beatrice and Virgil talk in a very roundabout manner on everything and nothing in particular, like the two characters in Waiting for Godot. Their dialogues seem to touch on all the mysteries and philosophies of life, but are mostly vague and puzzling.

Harry the taxidermist seemed to take great pride in his profession. He became a taxidermist after reading The Legend of St Julian Hospitator by Gustave Flaubert. Flaubert had described killings of animals in this book, and Harry was inspired to preserve the carcass. It was difficult to make sense of Harry the taxidermist, and the readers understand Harry the taxidermist through the perception of Harry the writer. Through their conversation which is mainly on Virgil and Beatrice, the readers catch a glimpse of holocaust and animals' cruelty.

Yann Martel's Beatrice and Virgil also brought to my mind the book by Julian Barnes entitled Flaubert's Parrot, which was about a man's obsession with Flaubert. The narrator had mentioned all the important friends and lovers of Flaubert, speculated on the thoughts of Flaubert and his girlfriends and mistress, hypothesised on the what if's of these people who once existed and also on Flaubert's protagonists, e.g. Emma Bovary. The parrot refers to stuffed parrot (taxidermy comes in here) which was at one time in Flaubert's possession. At least two museums claimed to have Flaubert's parrot. The narrator examined all the stuffed parrots and explained his own thought process on which parrot was really Flaubert's. The similarities or parallels between Flaubert's Parrot and Beatrice and Virgil are that the narrators voiced out thoughts on writing, and described and commented about characters from a couple of novels, and both books had referred to Flaubert.

Yann Martel's Beatrice and Virgil is also a tale on how to write. As Harry the taxidermist explained to Harry the writer on the symbols, allegories, allusions, the readers started to understand (sort of) the taxidermist's play, which is a sub-plot of this novel. Harry the novelist was skeptical about the play in which the characters do not seem to develop and nothing happen in the play many times over. Something finally happened in the play at the end, and also to the two Harrys. Still the ending does not tie all the pieces of the plot together coherently.

I haven't read Dante's Divine Comedy, so I don't know the characters Beatrice and Virgil in Divine Comedy. I also haven't read Yann Martel's first book The Life of Pi. Beatrice and Virgil is a strange story, with some insightful remarks thrown in here and there which bring resonance in me. The book ended with twelve game questions in a kind of epilogue. They resemble what-if questions. Questions on what you will do as you face one despair situation after another. Questions which we probably have no answers, and discussing these questions with anyone will make it a very grave and groomy interaction.

Schopenhauer's On Authorship

The Art of Literature. Chapter 1. On Authorship. Arthur Schopenhauer
http://ebooks.adelaide.edu.au/s/schopenhauer/arthur/lit/chapter1.html

“What an inestimable boon it would be, if in every branch of literature there were only a few books, but those excellent!”
“The best works of the greatest men all come from the time when they had to write for nothing or for very little.”
“Honor and money are not to be found in the same purse” —honora y provecho no caben en un saco. (Spanish proverb)
“How very learned many a man would be if he knew everything that was in his own books ! ”
“If a thing is new, it is seldom good; because if it is good, it is only for a short time new.”

Schopenhauer noted two kinds of authors, those who write because they have something worth communicating, and those who write for writing’s sake, to cover paper, to make money. He thinks that he latter group of authors are cheating the readers by pretending that they have something to say.

Then, Schopenhauer distinguishes three classes of authors, firstly, those who write without thinking, or write from memory, reminiscences, or even straight out from others’ books, secondly, those who think in order to write, and lastly, those who think before they begin to write.

For the rare breed of writers who think before they write, they are busy thinking about what others have thought on the subject, rather than forming original views. However, he rebukes writers who attacks or denies correct theories in order to make their mark by bringing out something fresh.

The writer of the new book often does not understand the old books thoroughly, and yet he is unwilling to take their exact words; so he bungles them, and says in his own bad way that which has been said very much better and more clearly by the old writers, who wrote from their own lively knowledge of the subject. The new writer frequently omits the best things they say, their most striking illustrations, their happiest remarks; because he does not see their value or feel how pregnant they are. The only thing that appeals to him is what is shallow and insipid.

Finally, Schopenhauer contrasts the matter and form. Matter is the substance, the fact and the history, which could be accessible to anyone. Form is what it is thought about the matter, and form is the valuable part of the book. In general, we are more concerned with matter than form. Literature in which any merit there may be lies in the form, are lacking.