Month: March 2016

Literature is a stage, for all conflicts from different parties to display freely. Good narrator must be HUMBLE. No stands showed. Literature is more than a political statement or a moral textbook. Literature is mere a platform to shade a light on humanity. Humanity is far more complex than teaching and preaching, subtle, dim but enshrined with sacredness.

I once worked in two Christian Organizations as an editor. Message from the Bible is the king of any publishing in Christian sector in Hong Kong. How ridiculous it is if you are a literature writer, who claim to be a Christian, saying something that you are writing Christian Literature. How grand and religious it sounds. What comes up if literature and preaching simply mix up with no further digging in humanity is probably creepy propaganda.

I seldom write political critics. Word with clear aims and standpoints is not my cup of tea. I don’t care to what extend my ignorance and indifference seem to reach, that make someone criticize me as too self-centred, too indulgent in ivory tower. I don’t need to explain in my world of solitude. My world has stretched as far as it can in literature.

I will never betray my own will, just like what I did in the past, anymore.

Joyce Carol Oates’s I am No One You Know is a incredibly good series of short stories. I have been reading it non-stop these days. Digging in cruelty and darkness in social marginals deeply, with simple words and clear narration, Oates does show her sympathy to all her characters. Meanwhile, no clear standpoint is given by the author, allowing rooms for readers to comprehend themselves. That’s what a good story should be–not illustrating a grand theory, nor teaching a lesson, but splaying an open end to let you think.

Take The Girl with the Blackened Eye as an example. It is a story about a girl being raped by a man. Even though the man treats her badly, as well as other victims, for some reasons that are unspoken by the narrator, the man did not kill her. He let her go at last. “Know what, girl? You are not like the others. You’re special.” Due to his inarticulate kindness, the girl shows subtle gratitude to him somehow. Her feelings were messed up. At some moments she could escape, but she didn’t, seem like showing loyalty to the man. Even after she was rescued, she got the feelings that the men who raped her was more than only a decadent criminal, but a human being with integrity instead. When she resumed to normal life, she still always thought of that man. “Sure, I see him sometimes. More often lately. On the street, in a passing car. In profile, I see him.”

Oates is not only condemning the cruelty of rape, which I think it may be one of her aims, but most importantly, she shapes a fully character with different aspects of life, making it alive on paper.  Characters have struggles among themselves, but they resolves at last, in their own ways. Not simply the bad being punished and the good being rewarded, complex humanity sparks in every line in her stories.

I got insomnia the whole night the day before and now I am recovering. I was totally terrified at night and even though the daytime afterward, the fear is still lasting. Just like what happened when I was in secondary school. I once experienced a long period of insomnia that time and the fear seem infectious that I am still affected now. Body gets strained and headache whenever the panic visiting.  Brain floods with non-sense frightening thoughts, drawing me to a black hole but I could hardly stop. My dear counsellor goes on a long holiday due to her serious illness. I do miss her for both her kindness and patience but at the same time, deeply worried about her health.

Panic comes and panic soon goes. I know. Whenever my faith is strong, believing myself deep in my heart, then I am sure I can get to sleep. I must be able to go through it, just like what I did before. I have had a long history of insomnia already but luckily all periods last short, not more than a week. It relapses and relapses and relapses and that is. I am used to. My old habit. I need to live with it, though not happily but calmly and peacefully. She can be my little angel reminding me never never undermining myself, pushing myself too hard, which I always do. I need to always be satisfied with myself, be good to myself.

Ok. As a reminder. Thank you insomnia.