My latest
novel, Angry Young Spaceman, is about a guy who goes
to another planet to teach English. It's a pretty obvious
to anyone who knows I taught overseas that the dreamy
underwater planet Octavia is a duckblind for Korea.
I set it on another planet for two reasons -- one, it
was more fun that way; two, depicting Korea, when I
had been there a scant seven months, was not something
I felt comfortable doing. I wanted to concentrate on
the protagonist's struggle and fascination with immersion
in an alien environment.
Despite this,
I did expect someone to catch me out on the fact that
a lot of the appeal of the book is derived from a (albeit
once removed) characterization of Asia that is pretty
problematic: mysterious, headed heedlessly towards westernization,
and filled with amusing broken English. And while writing
a scathing critique entitled "Suburban Houses With Radical
Paintjobs: The Works of Jim Munroe" has a kind of Eggersian
appeal, I think I'll just look around my room and analyze
the...
Objects
of My Asian Affectation
Notes:
These are the Asian objects that I can see from my desk,
and are no way an inventory of all of such items I own.
I am careful to avoid having (what I consider) an embarrassing
excess of them -- small are the steps between valid
appreciation, geeky fannishness, and creepy fetishization.
(Although -- and this doesn't make sense, but I feel
entitled to have more Asiana since I've lived there.)
Also, I'm aware that limiting it to objects is in itself
revealing of a kind of consumer mentality, but it helped
to having parameters of this analysis so as to avoid
having to list everything beginning at my crush on a
Filipino girl in grade six. (Whoops.) I stopped this
list at eight (for luck) although the following objects
are also within sight:
-a tiny catalogue of Japanese dolls and toys
-coffee gum
-Morning Glory hardcover writing book
-H.O.T. (Highfive Of Teenager) bootleg cassette
Omar Sharif
Lights cigarette package (empty): The Korean government,
having nationalized cigarette production, has a few
brands with English names. My co-teacher started smoking
them in his army days, and had no idea who Omar Sharif
was -- I suppose they started making them when he was
hot, and saw no reason to update it with the new western
star. The licensing must have cost something, because
the side of the package has Sharif's name along with
the quote "The taste of my cigarettes is smooth, soft
& sensual, just like my romantic life." Analysis:
While a lot of the appeal of this comes from how cheesy
the quote is (and by extension, how cheesy the French
are), I also like how a governmental initiative to --
what? Make their citizens more cosmopolitan? -- has
only succeeded at turning a moviestar into a meaningless
glyph.
Coconut
Jelly jar (8 single servings remaining): Each tiny
rounded cup has a tasty coconut jelly serving with a
piece of lychee suspended inside. What I most enjoy
is offering them to guests who have never had them.
They pull back the little cover and spill some of the
juice on their hands, and then try to slurp it out.
Then, they say "It's good!" in a kind of surprised voice,
as if they expected something not-so-good. Analysis:
I like that the whole process -- confusion, discovery,
delight -- is a kind of mini-version of engaging other
cultures. But I also like watching people slurp jelly.
Tiny Photobooth
Stickers: They're like photobooths, except you get
a whole sheet of stickers, and you can choose from a
bunch of computer graphic frames. I have six of them,
four from Korea, one from Japan and one from Seattle
-- this last one taken in a Korean grocery store while
shopping with a fellow ex-teacher. My favourite frame
is the one saying "It's Bathtime!" (in Korean) with
a soap bubble obscuring my friend Kevin's eye. Analysis:
For Asian schoolgirls who cover their agenda books and
diaries with them, photobooths are about fun and friends,
and we're trying to get in on that.
Korean
Phrasebook (published by Lonely Planet): I was building
my Korean vocabulary from it. I would tape my girlfriend
pronouncing the words and play it back. (I taped over
it recently, but I liked to listen to it because she
giggled a lot between telling me to pay attention.)
Two years later, I would be hard pressed to say five
words in Korean despite having learned a few hundred.
Analysis: I keep it around as a kind of symbol
of having, in good faith, attempted to learn the language.
Better a failure than a indifferent westerner.
Korean
painting: When I left, my co-teacher gave me a long
scroll painting with a very traditional painting of
a persimmon tree and Chinese characters on it, with
a sincere and heartfelt inscription on the back. Analysis:
It's big and says Exotic, so under normal circumstances
it would be too corny for my taste. But fuck it, Mr.
Ahn was one of the sweetest guys I've ever known.
Vegemil
bottle (empty): The convenience stores would sell
these glass bottles of hot vegetable milk during the
winter. Analysis: As beautiful as the glass milk
bottles were -- and with their 70s computer font lettering,
they were lovely -- more beautiful was the fact that
the culture produced something, completely unintentionally,
that a vegan like me could enjoy.
Various
books by Haruki Murakami: I've heard that he's Japan's
highest selling author, which amazed me because his
stuff is haunting and subtle. It might have something
to do with the fact that comics are so popular and acceptable
that maybe the person who would pick up Danielle Steele
here would read a comic in Japan, leaving the book world
for talents like Murakami. Analysis: His interest
in Western culture makes him the perfect crossover writer
-- westerners with a taste for eastern culture love
him, and vice versa.
Pink Ape
Head: This keychain fob, a fist-sized stuffed toy,
was given to me by one of my ten-year-old students.
I attached it to my backpack and wore it around Toronto
for a while, but it was drawing so much attention that
(self-conscious of being perceived as intentionally
eccentric) I took it off. Analysis: Toys, with
their Peter Pan-esque refutation of adulthood and simplicity,
are fun. Toys from Asia have that except you don't have
to relive a Canadian childhood filled with Disney and
Time-Warner brands -- it's nostalgia once removed.
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