Book 16: Gasa-Gasa Girl by Naomi Hirohara
I'm not generally a fan of mystery novels. They're formulaic, dripping with misogyny and racism and the fictional events rarely interest more their real counterparts. I will, however, read just about anything by Naomi Hirohara. Though The Summer of the Big Bachi and Gasa-Gasa Girl are formulaic in plot, Hirohara imbues every other aspect of the novel with a humanity both specific to southern Californian Japanese Americans and familiar to all.
The first indicator that this would be the case is the main protagonist, Mas Arai. Is he a private investigator? No. Is he a former police officer? No. Does he have any professional business whatsoever in crime? No. He's an aging gardener, bearing witness to seismic shifts in his profession, bearing widowerdom and bearing familial estrangement from one generation for being too Japanese, an estrangement he committed against another generation by emigrating. This may sound unfamiliar to many, but the alienation, comfort found in an almost tribal sub-population, economic anxiety and intergenerational struggles are as common as the 99%.
Another indicator that this was a literary mystery novel was the speech. So many authors who try to put Asian-American speech patterns into fictional characters fall on the wrong side of the believable/ching-chongery border. Even when the accents are passably portrayed (which is rare), the content never is. A Chinese immigrant, for instance, will almost never discuss their finances, but they'll talk your ear off about the deal they got that day on a pair of pants (look, name brand!). Hirohara has an unfair advantage in getting Japanese immigrant speech just right, of course, being Japanese American herself; but I pity the creative that doesn't make use of all of their advantages.
One thing that totally charmed me in The Summer of the Big Bachi was the setting. There are plenty of novels set in L.A., but few are as familiar with the odd corners outside of the Westside as I am. The places Hirohara depicts are neither ultra-dangerous nor safe above reproach and have all their subtleties in place. Gasa-Gasa Girl moved Mas Arai to New York, but Hirohara does make the New York places real in the same way.
Saturday, June 15, 2019
Thursday, June 6, 2019
2019, Book 15: I'm Judging You by Luvvie Ajayi
Book 13: Parable of the Talents by Octavia Butler. Will say more about this with book 21, Parable of the Sower.
Book 14: Nobody Knows My Name by James Baldwin. Fantastic writing, though I wish I knew more about the specific events he's writing about. There was a global conference for black authors and the trends and issues of the time are not well-known to me, nor are the specific people referenced.
Book 15: I'm Judging You by Luvvie Ajayi.
Like so many other books by black authors, this seemed like it was written after the 2016 election, even though it was, in fact, written before. This particular one happened to be very shortly before, but it has become less and less of a surprise that marginalized people tend to see the cultural "surprises" much sooner than others, black women being amongst the most marginalized in America.
But don't get the idea that this book is all politics. This book is about life, the life of Luvvie Ajayi, but not in an autobiographical way. She talks about lots of things and politics and feminism play important roles in her life. It's not that she necessarily finds politics more interesting or is naturally drawn to power struggles (maybe she is, but it doesn't come off that way in the book). It's just that she's a black woman. All politics will affect black people more adversely than anyone else and all feminism will affect women far more than men.
The most important thing about this book is that Luvvie is funny. Whether she's talking about why jojoba oil is important for "black don't crack" or explaining why some of her girlfriends stay with unworthy men, she manages to tap into that part that everyone knows and notices, but no one seems to want to mention and turns the discomfort into laughter. I caught this one on audio-book and it's one of the few books I'd recommend in its non-paper form. It's not quite a stand-up bit, but a lot is added to this book by having Luvvie read it to you.
Book 14: Nobody Knows My Name by James Baldwin. Fantastic writing, though I wish I knew more about the specific events he's writing about. There was a global conference for black authors and the trends and issues of the time are not well-known to me, nor are the specific people referenced.
Book 15: I'm Judging You by Luvvie Ajayi.
Like so many other books by black authors, this seemed like it was written after the 2016 election, even though it was, in fact, written before. This particular one happened to be very shortly before, but it has become less and less of a surprise that marginalized people tend to see the cultural "surprises" much sooner than others, black women being amongst the most marginalized in America.
But don't get the idea that this book is all politics. This book is about life, the life of Luvvie Ajayi, but not in an autobiographical way. She talks about lots of things and politics and feminism play important roles in her life. It's not that she necessarily finds politics more interesting or is naturally drawn to power struggles (maybe she is, but it doesn't come off that way in the book). It's just that she's a black woman. All politics will affect black people more adversely than anyone else and all feminism will affect women far more than men.
The most important thing about this book is that Luvvie is funny. Whether she's talking about why jojoba oil is important for "black don't crack" or explaining why some of her girlfriends stay with unworthy men, she manages to tap into that part that everyone knows and notices, but no one seems to want to mention and turns the discomfort into laughter. I caught this one on audio-book and it's one of the few books I'd recommend in its non-paper form. It's not quite a stand-up bit, but a lot is added to this book by having Luvvie read it to you.
Sunday, May 19, 2019
2019, Book 12: What Happened by Hillary Rodham Clinton
Book 9: Growth of the Soil by Knut Hamsun. Epic tale of settling land and all the conflicts that arise between settlers and the land as well as amongst the settlers themselves. The idea of a "simpler time" fails to acknowledge that the complexities arise from within.
Book 10: The Last Child in the Woods by Richard Louv. Great resource on both the philosophy of sufficient exposure to nature and the evidence behind it.
Book 11: Summer of the Big Bachi by Naomi Hirahara. A literary crime novel, driven at least as much by the characters and their interactions with each other as the official particulars of the crime.
Book 12: What Happened by Hillary Rodham Clinton.
I avoided reading this book for over a year. The anguish felt over the result of the 2016 Presidential election was still too fresh. Rehashing what led to its result was just going to get me completely upset again. Every single time I've heard Hillary Rodham Clinton speak, in her own words and on the topics she has selected, I have been impressed. She's thoughtful, caring, smart, articulate and genuinely seems to be trying to make the world a better place for everyone. For that alone, her defeat in 2016 was tough. What made it genuinely terrible was who our country selected instead.
But it was time. I'd shook Hillary's hand and received a copy of the book on her tour. Over a year later, I finally read what her thoughts on her campaign were. Not surprisingly, ALL of the criticism I had heard about the book were completely unfounded. What I found was yet again, a thoughtful, caring person trying to improve lives while having things thrown sideways at her, both from within the country (within her own party even) and from without.
I really think this is the most important thing to note about the book. The details about the campaign itself (and there are many) are important to understand, but what really shines through is that Hillary really cares. While I may disagree here or there, that's the nature of desiring progress. There are a million ways to move forward and figuring out an uncharted path is difficult. Contrast this to the desire to move backwards, where history lays out an exact path. There will always be more disagreement on how to move forward than backwards. I will not let those disagreements diminish my admiration for one of the greatest public servants our country has ever known, an admiration reinforced by this book.
Book 10: The Last Child in the Woods by Richard Louv. Great resource on both the philosophy of sufficient exposure to nature and the evidence behind it.
Book 11: Summer of the Big Bachi by Naomi Hirahara. A literary crime novel, driven at least as much by the characters and their interactions with each other as the official particulars of the crime.
Book 12: What Happened by Hillary Rodham Clinton.
I avoided reading this book for over a year. The anguish felt over the result of the 2016 Presidential election was still too fresh. Rehashing what led to its result was just going to get me completely upset again. Every single time I've heard Hillary Rodham Clinton speak, in her own words and on the topics she has selected, I have been impressed. She's thoughtful, caring, smart, articulate and genuinely seems to be trying to make the world a better place for everyone. For that alone, her defeat in 2016 was tough. What made it genuinely terrible was who our country selected instead.
But it was time. I'd shook Hillary's hand and received a copy of the book on her tour. Over a year later, I finally read what her thoughts on her campaign were. Not surprisingly, ALL of the criticism I had heard about the book were completely unfounded. What I found was yet again, a thoughtful, caring person trying to improve lives while having things thrown sideways at her, both from within the country (within her own party even) and from without.
I really think this is the most important thing to note about the book. The details about the campaign itself (and there are many) are important to understand, but what really shines through is that Hillary really cares. While I may disagree here or there, that's the nature of desiring progress. There are a million ways to move forward and figuring out an uncharted path is difficult. Contrast this to the desire to move backwards, where history lays out an exact path. There will always be more disagreement on how to move forward than backwards. I will not let those disagreements diminish my admiration for one of the greatest public servants our country has ever known, an admiration reinforced by this book.
Tuesday, May 7, 2019
2019, Book 7: Mildred Pierce by John Cain and Book 8: Eden by Design by Hise and Deverell
Book 6: Not a Scientist by David Levitan. Nothing earth-shattering, but still important work on how politicians twist science.
Book 7: Mildred Pierce by John Cain.
Classic story of class in Depression America. Some were able to navigate high-class society and its vanity. Some jumped for such heights, forgetting that landing from such a jump puts you back where you started. Some could play the wealthy's social games of whimsy. Some weren't even aware such games were being played at their expense. Some were born to be of another, higher class, floating (not jumping) up and staying. Some are the working class mothers of them.
Veda Pierce just needed an opportunity. When she got it, she worked the hell out of it--without working. As much as mother Mildred wanted to be in a class with daughter Veda, Mildred's belief in honest, hard work eventually paying off clashed with the aloof lack of responsibility that the upper class is practically defined by.
Set in the greater Los Angeles area, some of the most amusing passages come off as downright mean to those who haven't lived it. While Pasadena might not be the pinnacle of high society it was then, there is still a snobbishness to this day that harkens back. Glendale has become a bustling community unto itself, but it still has never claimed the status of Pasadena at its peak. And so it goes for Hollywood, Laguna Beach and countless other locales.
Book 8: Eden By Design by Hise and Deverell.
This book is a pure urban planning policy wonkfest. I include it with Mildred Pierce because its content was being created at about the same time and place as Mildred Pierce's setting. The Los Angeles Chamber of Commerce, even way back in the 20s, recognized that the city was being choked. All the wonderful natural settings that made Los Angeles unique and appealing were being obliterated to make way for housing. A report was commissioned from Olmsted-Bartholomew to both survey the natural landscape and propose ways to preserve it. The main takeaway for me is that cities should build parks when they can, because eventually they won't be able to and wish they had.
Again, this book has special meaning to those who live or have lived in the greater Los Angeles area. Much of the county's larger physical contours remain and it's quite interesting to see where some communities tried to follow the plan, even though it was never formally adopted. Of particular note is the stretch of green from Debs Park through Hermon Park to the Arroyo and Lower Arroyo Parks, all the way up to Devil's Gate Reservoir near JPL. Another nice stretch runs from Griffith Park out to Topanga State Park, though I suspect this was more a result of difficult terrain than anything else. In contrast, when one sees how barren the San Fernando Valley is of green space, it's no wonder that Lake Balboa is so crowded on the weekends.
While we can always lament what could have been, I think this book also serves as a counter to what currently is. Los Angeles is still trying to build its way into affordable housing, an objective continuously held as noble in intent despite decades of failure. This inevitably leads to further constrictions in public green spaces, deterioration in natural habitat and an overall reduction in quality of life for current residents who see their recreational spaces continuously eroded. Perhaps there is a way to genuinely balance these interests, but what counts as "balance" right now suggests otherwise.
Book 7: Mildred Pierce by John Cain.
Classic story of class in Depression America. Some were able to navigate high-class society and its vanity. Some jumped for such heights, forgetting that landing from such a jump puts you back where you started. Some could play the wealthy's social games of whimsy. Some weren't even aware such games were being played at their expense. Some were born to be of another, higher class, floating (not jumping) up and staying. Some are the working class mothers of them.
Veda Pierce just needed an opportunity. When she got it, she worked the hell out of it--without working. As much as mother Mildred wanted to be in a class with daughter Veda, Mildred's belief in honest, hard work eventually paying off clashed with the aloof lack of responsibility that the upper class is practically defined by.
Set in the greater Los Angeles area, some of the most amusing passages come off as downright mean to those who haven't lived it. While Pasadena might not be the pinnacle of high society it was then, there is still a snobbishness to this day that harkens back. Glendale has become a bustling community unto itself, but it still has never claimed the status of Pasadena at its peak. And so it goes for Hollywood, Laguna Beach and countless other locales.
Book 8: Eden By Design by Hise and Deverell.
This book is a pure urban planning policy wonkfest. I include it with Mildred Pierce because its content was being created at about the same time and place as Mildred Pierce's setting. The Los Angeles Chamber of Commerce, even way back in the 20s, recognized that the city was being choked. All the wonderful natural settings that made Los Angeles unique and appealing were being obliterated to make way for housing. A report was commissioned from Olmsted-Bartholomew to both survey the natural landscape and propose ways to preserve it. The main takeaway for me is that cities should build parks when they can, because eventually they won't be able to and wish they had.
Again, this book has special meaning to those who live or have lived in the greater Los Angeles area. Much of the county's larger physical contours remain and it's quite interesting to see where some communities tried to follow the plan, even though it was never formally adopted. Of particular note is the stretch of green from Debs Park through Hermon Park to the Arroyo and Lower Arroyo Parks, all the way up to Devil's Gate Reservoir near JPL. Another nice stretch runs from Griffith Park out to Topanga State Park, though I suspect this was more a result of difficult terrain than anything else. In contrast, when one sees how barren the San Fernando Valley is of green space, it's no wonder that Lake Balboa is so crowded on the weekends.
While we can always lament what could have been, I think this book also serves as a counter to what currently is. Los Angeles is still trying to build its way into affordable housing, an objective continuously held as noble in intent despite decades of failure. This inevitably leads to further constrictions in public green spaces, deterioration in natural habitat and an overall reduction in quality of life for current residents who see their recreational spaces continuously eroded. Perhaps there is a way to genuinely balance these interests, but what counts as "balance" right now suggests otherwise.
Monday, April 29, 2019
2019, Book 5: No-No Boy by John Okada
Book 1: Close Range by Annie Proulx. Brokeback Mountain actually wasn't the best short story in this collection; and it's every bit as good as the movie.
Book 2: Life's Work by Willie Parker. If reproductive rights are at all important to you, this is an essential book.
Book 3: Salvage the Bones by Jesmyn Ward. Remarkable writing really made the setting jump off the page. Ruined for me by the central role dog fighting plays.
Book 4: When Elephants Weep by Jeffrey Moussaief Masson. Great content about emotions in animals, but not the greatest writing.
Book 5: No-No Boy by John Okada
There are only two books I've ever literally read cover-to-cover without putting down. No-No Boy by John Okada is one of them. Right from the beginning, the informal divisions of Japanese-American society immediately after World War 2 are front and center. If we are being brutally honest, most Americans don't think about any Japanese-Americans most days. Yet fewer think of the context Japanese-American society provides these Japanese-American individuals. And yet fewer consider the internal divisions and strife of that Japanese-American society. And almost no one considers what those divisions must have been like immediately after World War 2.
Book 2: Life's Work by Willie Parker. If reproductive rights are at all important to you, this is an essential book.
Book 3: Salvage the Bones by Jesmyn Ward. Remarkable writing really made the setting jump off the page. Ruined for me by the central role dog fighting plays.
Book 4: When Elephants Weep by Jeffrey Moussaief Masson. Great content about emotions in animals, but not the greatest writing.
Book 5: No-No Boy by John Okada
There are only two books I've ever literally read cover-to-cover without putting down. No-No Boy by John Okada is one of them. Right from the beginning, the informal divisions of Japanese-American society immediately after World War 2 are front and center. If we are being brutally honest, most Americans don't think about any Japanese-Americans most days. Yet fewer think of the context Japanese-American society provides these Japanese-American individuals. And yet fewer consider the internal divisions and strife of that Japanese-American society. And almost no one considers what those divisions must have been like immediately after World War 2.
For anyone who knows not their American history, Japanese-Americans were jailed en masse during World War 2. Of course, the more innocuous term "internment" is preferred to "jailed," so as not to hurt red-blooded Americans' feelings too much about what evil deeds patriotism can lead to. Prior to FDR (yes, that liberal hero FDR) signing the order to jail/intern Japanese-Americans, many of them had family in the military. Many had businesses in their communities. Many had never set foot on Japanese soil. Yet they were rounded up, forcibly removed from their homes, often separated from their families and put in camps despite being accused of no crime, except possibly that of collectively gaining too much economic power.
The really bizarre twist is that while jailed/interned, Japanese-American men of the appropriate age (boys really) were offered an out. If they demonstrated loyalty to the United States by serving in the military, they could leave the camps. If they refused, they were sentenced to real prison time. So, the government yanks you out of your life, gives you meager conditions to live in and then asks you to demonstrate loyalty to it as a way to get out of your meager conditions; and if you don't, your conditions get even more meager.
Imagine being such a boy. Well, you've always considered yourself American. You were born and raised here, speak perfect English, go to school with everyone else and like the same movies and music. Why shouldn't you fight for your country? But, they just uprooted you and took everything from you, your family and lots of very close friends and their families. They put you in a prison camp, complete with guard towers, barbed wire and squalid living conditions with no guarantee that your home would still be your's and there for you when you got out. Why should you fight for a government that does that to you?
At the heart of No-No Boy, Okada explores the deep emotional trauma that this turn of events can impose. There is a single instant in time where you get to decide. Will you continue your internment and perhaps facing additional jail time for being disloyal? Or will you risk your life for people who just imprisoned you for no discernible reason, people who, as near as you can tell, don't see you as human? In that one instant, your two possible futures could not be more disparate and how could you possibly understand the consequences? Yet there you are.
And this is all just Chapter 1. This is just the setup. We find our main character returning to Seattle after serving his time for declining the government's offer, making him a "no-no boy." Folks who didn't have a choice had already been back for some time and most who had served were already back too. The main character had to face both of these groups upon return; and even these groups had their own divisions.
Perhaps the central reason I connected so well with this writing is that it came from an East Asian-American (EAA) voice. There is something unique about the EAA experience in this country. EAAs are in between in almost every way. Our daily existence is certainly kinder than what other minorities face, but it is still much less kind than what the majority faces. Our generational existence and memory often straddles an ocean and so must our identity. Our politics are shaped by sympathy for the collective that is left of the most-left TV politics and an individual industriousness that is right of the most-right TV politics. Our places are caricatures of our ancestral homes catering to exotic notions of foreign lands, but what is more American than Chinatown? A voice that knows and understands how this all forms a person is hard to come by. When I read this book, I found such a voice, one that knew me better than the rest.
Imagine being such a boy. Well, you've always considered yourself American. You were born and raised here, speak perfect English, go to school with everyone else and like the same movies and music. Why shouldn't you fight for your country? But, they just uprooted you and took everything from you, your family and lots of very close friends and their families. They put you in a prison camp, complete with guard towers, barbed wire and squalid living conditions with no guarantee that your home would still be your's and there for you when you got out. Why should you fight for a government that does that to you?
At the heart of No-No Boy, Okada explores the deep emotional trauma that this turn of events can impose. There is a single instant in time where you get to decide. Will you continue your internment and perhaps facing additional jail time for being disloyal? Or will you risk your life for people who just imprisoned you for no discernible reason, people who, as near as you can tell, don't see you as human? In that one instant, your two possible futures could not be more disparate and how could you possibly understand the consequences? Yet there you are.
And this is all just Chapter 1. This is just the setup. We find our main character returning to Seattle after serving his time for declining the government's offer, making him a "no-no boy." Folks who didn't have a choice had already been back for some time and most who had served were already back too. The main character had to face both of these groups upon return; and even these groups had their own divisions.
Perhaps the central reason I connected so well with this writing is that it came from an East Asian-American (EAA) voice. There is something unique about the EAA experience in this country. EAAs are in between in almost every way. Our daily existence is certainly kinder than what other minorities face, but it is still much less kind than what the majority faces. Our generational existence and memory often straddles an ocean and so must our identity. Our politics are shaped by sympathy for the collective that is left of the most-left TV politics and an individual industriousness that is right of the most-right TV politics. Our places are caricatures of our ancestral homes catering to exotic notions of foreign lands, but what is more American than Chinatown? A voice that knows and understands how this all forms a person is hard to come by. When I read this book, I found such a voice, one that knew me better than the rest.
Sunday, April 7, 2019
Super Bloom, 2019: Preparation
"I'm making an executive decision to go see wildflowers." Though no irony was intended in putting "executive" and "wildflowers" in the same sentence, in hindsight, it was hard not to see it. Already part of the negotiation was seeing Salvation Mountain in Niland in the same trip. Driving out, trying to get there and to Anza-Borrego state park and get back home in one day didn't seem worth it. With a two-day trip decided upon, preparations could begin in earnest.
Procrastination sometimes gets the better of this particular family. Searching for a pet-friendly hotel began one day, but didn't finish until the day before departure. Mild panic set in when the possibilities from the prior search could no longer be found. This Super Bloom thing was more popular than we knew. We just wanted something to do during Child's spring break and the record rainfall made Parents think seeing wildflowers would be worthwhile. Dad had just finished reading Last Child in the Woods and wanted to make sure Child got occasional high doses of nature.
Regardless, staring at us were options not at all palatable. The remaining pet-friendly hotels had unreasonable restrictions: low weight limits, high fees, high-weight-low-fee-but-no-kids, etc. Eventually, we decided we could afford the high fees and picked a hotel in Palm Springs near places we were already familiar with. A few clicks later, the reservation was made.
What about the gardeners? Shit! Fuck! Unlocking the gate and locking up again after them would mean we couldn't leave until fairly late in the day. Most of day 1's daylight would be gone by the time we reached Salvation Mountain or Anza-Borrego. Easy, just stay two nights! If only we would have thought of that before making our reservation! No matter, there were too many other things to attend to. We would ask the hotel when we arrived.
The morning of our departure, the gardeners made sure to be later than usual. After they left, a few final preparations were made. And they're off!
Procrastination sometimes gets the better of this particular family. Searching for a pet-friendly hotel began one day, but didn't finish until the day before departure. Mild panic set in when the possibilities from the prior search could no longer be found. This Super Bloom thing was more popular than we knew. We just wanted something to do during Child's spring break and the record rainfall made Parents think seeing wildflowers would be worthwhile. Dad had just finished reading Last Child in the Woods and wanted to make sure Child got occasional high doses of nature.
Regardless, staring at us were options not at all palatable. The remaining pet-friendly hotels had unreasonable restrictions: low weight limits, high fees, high-weight-low-fee-but-no-kids, etc. Eventually, we decided we could afford the high fees and picked a hotel in Palm Springs near places we were already familiar with. A few clicks later, the reservation was made.
What about the gardeners? Shit! Fuck! Unlocking the gate and locking up again after them would mean we couldn't leave until fairly late in the day. Most of day 1's daylight would be gone by the time we reached Salvation Mountain or Anza-Borrego. Easy, just stay two nights! If only we would have thought of that before making our reservation! No matter, there were too many other things to attend to. We would ask the hotel when we arrived.
The morning of our departure, the gardeners made sure to be later than usual. After they left, a few final preparations were made. And they're off!
Super Bloom, 2019: Day 1
All in all, Day 1 was not so eventful. The drive there was rainier than expected. Upon seeing the huge wind farm on the way in to Palm Springs, Child continuously marveled. "LoooOOOK! Windmill! COOOoool. When I go back to school, I'll tell everyone I saw 5 or 6 dozen windmills," Child said upon setting eyes on San Gorgonio Pass wind farm, home of over 3,000 wind turbines.
Driving down Palm Canyon Dr, we noticed far more foot traffic of a completely basic variety on a weekday afternoon than there had been before. There were also a lot of newer mall-looking things that these basics were foot trafficking into and out of. Such direct, grotesque capitalism stood in direct contrast to the mid-century modern, old-gay sensibilities that made us like Palm Springs.
Between our late departure, need to eat and supreme confidence that we had two full days of vacationing in front of us, we first dined at Native Foods Cafe like we always did before proceeding to the hotel. Upon inquiring about a second night, it had been sold out! Looks like we would have to improvise. New plan was to get up early on Day 2 and just do a lot of driving.
In the meanwhile, Mom and Child explored the hotel and thrifted. Dad looked after Dog, taking a walk around the Palm Springs Convention Center (literally around, as it was closed to the public). Having been so taken in by the beauty of the built environment before, Dad had never really taken in the natural beauty of Palm Springs. Nothing like a nice, long evening walk to cure that. After, Dad and Child swam under the stars at the outdoor pool. Child loves the water so much, she did her usual insisting that she wasn't cold despite shivering. "I just like to shiver."
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| Mt San Jacinto at Dusk |
Little else of note occurred that night. Mom did almost get into a fight with a Canadian and noted the poor service all around the city. Parents have agreed for a long time now that economists should factor quality of retail service as a contrary indicator to economic health. Bustling as Palm Springs was, this was a reinforcement of that street economist axiom.
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