Archive for the 'Lit' Category

O-ba-ma. Yes, We Can.

I think after a while we’ll see how much of a change Obama really will make, for the better or the worse. After watching some of his post-president-elect status speeches, there is somewhat of a dumbing down of the whole ‘Yes We Can’ mantra that was so often inspiring in his days as a senator, or rather, as a president-to-be. To be quite frank, I was in total awe of his victory speech. The ‘Yes We Can’ moments were spine-tingling-ly awesome and it almost makes you want to BE American. Which in this day an age, is quite something.

But ideologies aside, I am a realist, and a cynic, and he is an unproven ‘entity’ and is definitely not the Messiah (and probably not the anti-Christ, as some have speculated). However, these MTVs that William James Adam Jr from the Black Eyed Peas bring back that inspired, empowered feeling that was so oft felt in the Obama campaign. The second one is a bit eery in the treatment of Obama as a type of hero/god/messiah. But i like the first one, purely on its rhetoric/vocals/backing track, and the immortalisation of that age old creed…YES WE CAN! I love the way it’s mixed.



YES WE CAN! WE WILL CHANGE!

Nausicaa, of the Valley of the Wind

I would say that people who think comics are incredulously childish and for little boys (and girls) who like to wook at wittle pickchers! Awwww … are not seeing things in a different light… but in that vein, they probably have never picked up anything remotely intelligent other than Archie.

But in a world that is becoming increasingly graphic, comics can be an amazing, effective and even intelligent means of communicating. Obviously I think most people would have to agree, but thence comes the notion that really, only children need pictures to be communicated to.

But arguments aside, maybe for another day, there’s a graphic novel that you really must look up entitled ‘Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind’ which is just epic on so many levels (and no, it doesn’t have big planes that turn into giant robots).

You’ll probably recognize the style of drawing as that of Hayao Miyazaki, the little known creator of Princess Mononoke, Howl’s Moving Castle and Spirited Away. That aside, Nausicaa is an old project of Miyazaki that started in 1982 all the way to 1994.

The incredible thing about the Nausicaa story is the depth and development of the protagonist, Nausicaa herself. To summarise (if you can summarise 7 volumes of 8 chapters of graphic literature totalling 1,264 pages), the world has been infested with some sort of poison producing mass of forest and fungus which is inhabited with ginormous insects. Humans are fighting over the remaining inhabitable land. Nausicaa, a peace loving princess of a land known as the Valley of the Wind, gets involved in this war while in the meantime discovering the secret of the strange expanding forest/fungi anomaly. Along the way she inspires, leads, defends and naturally her loving nature spawns quite a following, and along the way discovers the true nature of the poisonous forest as well as its terrible origins.

Miyazaki’s common ecological themes are obvious throughout the novel, while addressing other political and social themes throughout. But what is most endearing is really Nausicaa herself. The use of a woman as the person you empathise with is so effective, considering that in a post-apocalyptic world one would most likely associate a leader with someone of strength and all that, but that is what creates the identity of Nausicaa and is quite common in Miyazaki’s work (think of Spirited Away and Howl’s Moving Castle). Nausicaa’s strength in her weakness and determination and refusal to compromise are the carrying features of the story, and the touching sacrifices that others make for her, because of those qualities, are moving to say the least.

On a graphical note , ironically something that you remember as an afterthought after reading this incredible epic graphic novel, the illustrations are incredible. The detail and effort put into each frame is a sight to be hold and anyone who has seen the detail in any of Miyazaki’s animated works will appreciate what level it is on.

The strange thing about Nausicaa is that despite its greatness, I suppose on the forefront it does not come across as a ‘popular’ manga probably due to the depth of plot, as well as its immediate put offs. I mean, seriously, even after reading what I have just written above, there are not many people who would find a manga that dwells on social and political issues through the means of portraying a world full of giant insects and poisonous forests and fungi particularly entrancing, unless you are some sort of ecological green horticulturist. This is evidenced by the fact that I can only find 4 out of the 7 volumes of Nausicaa on Amazon.com. So, I have no idea where you can buy or read Nausicaa, though I’d probably go with amazon or Ebay and hope the rest of the volumes are released at some point . I don’t think Borders stocks it anymore but I could be wrong.

For evidence in just how deep and how metaphorical the uses of Miyazaki’s novels are, there’s actually a lecture series here you can read about it from University of Texas.


sample of Nausicaa

Gone

我一生在紙上被風吹亂

When years pass and tears are gone.
When denial is all you have left.
What more can you say.
What more can I do.

If bereft is all I feel
And torn in more than two
Then regret and pain are all that is left
To adorn the door, which I push close. Behind.

The Dictionary is a load of crap.

I am unsure as to whether this is ridiculously stupid, or incredibly smart. You’d have be either/or to make statements like this.

The situation: On the tube, two guys talking about the recent controversy regarding Celebrity Big Brother’s Jade Goody & Co.’s supposedly ‘racist’ comments against Shilpa, the Bollywood starlet.

Guy A: So do you think it’s racist?
Guy B: Well, it’s subjective, innit?
Guy A: Well if you look at the definition of racist in the dictionary…
Guy B: The dictionary is a load of crap, man

(this is the point where i turn my head and actually look at who the guy saying this is)

Guy A: Well, it’s a definition innit?
Guy B: Yeh, but by some guys up at Oxford
Guy A: It’s the most accepted viewpoint though
Guy B: Yeh but it’s just the opinion of some academics though…

Unfortunately this is where I alight from the tube. Though I dare say that I would have enjoyed listening to the rest of it. I worry, sometimes, about the intelligence of people in general. But I suppose, in a way, it is all subject to interpretation, innit. The blokes who wrote the dictionary might just be telling their own opinion after all, and really, if you think the word racist means ‘pink elephant jumping over the River Euphrates’ then by all means, it damn well means that.

Why do all good things come to an end

Honestly what will become of me
I don’t like reality
It’s way too clear to me
But really life is dandy
We are what we don’t see
We missed everything daydreaming

Flames to dust
Lovers to friends
Why do all good things come to an end

Travelling I only stop at exits
Wondering if I’ll stay
Young and restless
Living this way I stress less
I want to pull away when the dream dies
The pain sets in and I don’t cry
I only feel gravity and I wonder why

Dogs were whistling a new tune
Barking at the new moon
Hoping it would come soon so that they could die

And the sun was wondering if it should stay away for a day
’til the feeling went away
And the sky was fallin’ and the clouds were droppin’
And the rain forgot how to bring salvation
The dogs were barking at the new moon whistling a new tune
Hoping it would come soon so that they could die

I think she knows

Those flashing lights come from everywhere
The way they hit her I just stop and stare
She’s got me love stoned
I think I’m love stoned
She’s got me love stoned

I think that she knows, think that she knows.

And now I walk around without a care
She’s got me hooked
It just ain’t fair, but I…
I’m love stoned and I could swear
That she knows
Think that she knows.

Postcards from a city called home / 04


dusk.jpg

London. By dusk.
When the day fades away and the night begins to wake, and somewhere in between the sky sings a quiet song and hope returns to they who journey home. London. By dusk.Postcards from a city called home. Purple skies.

Hardy

A Saturday afternoon in November was approaching the time of twilight, and the vast tract of unenclosed wild known as Egdon Heath embrowned itself moment by moment. Overhead the hollow stretch of whitish cloud shutting out the sky was as a tent which had the whole heath for its floor. The heaven being spread with this pallid screen and the earth with the darkest vegetation, their meeting-line at the horizon was clearly marked. In such contrast the heath wore the appearance of an instalment of night which had taken up its place before its astronomical hour was come: darkness had to a great extent arrived hereon, while day stood distinct in the sky.

Thomas Hardy

Because of literary skill I can only but hope.