On our way to visit an alpaca farm (long story), we stopped at the craziest ceramics factory. They had a big yard that was a Tim Burton-esque wonderland (though his Alice in Wonderland movie; that sucked; I mean good Tim Burton).
Inside the large warehouse itself, people were busy making stools, tables, pots, jars, and more, decorating them all by hand.
Later, an alpaca chased my better half around.
We visited a couple of small galleries in Bangkok, but the H Gallery was the one that blew me away. They had works on display by Jakkai Siributr (a Thai artist) and Sopheap Pich (a Cambodian artist) downstairs and some large paintings by a third artist (whose name I forget upstairs).
Pich’s work (which is what you’re seeing in the picture). Her wall-hanging constructions of bamboo, rattan, burlap, natural and artificial pigments, damar resin, beeswax, and metal wire struck me very powerfully. Siributr’s tapestries, incorporating the small, stone Buddha amulets that you can find for sale next to any wat were very attractive, but only intermittently affecting.
Against my better judgment, I liked this book much more than it deserved to be liked. In its (and my defense), it is better than the first book in the series, The Briar King. Among other things, it is shorter. It’s not short, but contemporary fantasy authors seem determined to publish nothing with less than five hundred pages anymore. And it’s developing a nicely creepy conspiracy. There’s almost an element of horror creeping. Not really, but you can see… not so much the influence of Lovecraft, but the influence of writers who were themselves influenced by Lovecraft. So, indirectly and a couple steps removed. But it’s still there.
When they came for the crazed militia men demanding that taxpayers foot the bill for their ranching business, I said nothing because I was not a crazed militiaman.
When Fox News came for Ted Cruz for being a lying asshat, I said nothing, because I don’t watch Fox News, but I did watch it later on Youtube and it was hilarious and said so.
When they attacked Rubio for being a slick little weasel who makes a living selling political access, I said nothing, because I always thought Rubio was a total douche.
When Obamacare came for our freedom, I said nothing, because access to healthcare is a basic human right, not an attack on freedom, you nitwit. On the other hand, I did point out that a family member would not have had access to urgent and needed medical without Obamacare, so you can suck it.
When ISIS infiltrated America via Syrian refugees, I said nothing, because that didn’t happen, though I did say that those kind of remarks are examples of thinly veiled racism and xenophobia and pointed out that huge swaths of the Bible are dedicated to illustrating what an a–hole you are for taking that attitude (including the very existence of Mary and Joseph… a pair of middle eastern refugees, one of whom was pregnant).
Towards the end of our visit to Singapore, we had a little time to kill before we had to board the metro for the airport. So what to do? The National Gallery had a twenty (Singapore) dollar admission and we don’t have that much time, so it seemed a poor investment.
Me being me, I dragged us, our luggage in tow, to the possible location of a bookstore with a possible English language section.
Finally, after rounding the corner from the post office (we wanted to send off some postcards), I found Evernew Bookstore, a used bookstore in a little shopping center.
I didn’t get very far beyond a stretch of shelves (with only a very narrow space for human beings) that was filled with the orange spines of Penguin classics. And what did I find but a book that I’ve been wanting to read that is not in the DC Public Library system and which is never available at your local bookstore: Goethe’s Elective Affinities.
If you’ve ever seen the great Truffaut film, Jules et Jim, you might remember there is a reference to it. When Jim visits Jules and Catherine in their wooded Austrian retreat, he asks to borrow the book, which is a signal that he intends to do a little wife swapping (not really swapping, though; Jim isn’t married; so not so much swapping as just sleeping with his friend’s wife; it’s complicated).
Somewhere, I’d read a recommendation of this novel. And, it’s a pretty good fantasy novel. Just the right amount of variation from the traditional tropes, while staying within the recognizable framework. It doesn’t change the genre or break new ground (indeed, it’s a product of a post-Glen Cook fantasy world; if you don’t know who Glen Cook is, imagine a bloodier, darker Game of Thrones), but it’s well paced and enjoyable.
One interesting bit: two of the major characters are ugly. That may not sound like much, but there are a lot of handsome heroes in fantasy land. The most prominent protagonist if a torturer in his mid-thirties who was himself so tortured (while a POW) that he can’t eat solid food, walk without pain, nor pee standing up. The legendary warrior and swordsman is very deliberately not described until three quarters of the way through, when another character reacts in shock upon seeing him: he’s so scarred that his eyes and mouth seem out of whack and his nose a thing of mishealed and mangled cartilage. He’s a big, brooding, bruised, and battered boxer.
This is a trilogy and I’ll probably see if I can’t find book two at the library, but it’s not a priority.
My father gifted me this book just before I left for Thailand – a fortuitous thing, because lightweight (physically speaking), thin and interesting are very important for something that has to be carried around for an extended period of time and compete with clothes, meds, and tchotchkes for space.
The author came it the subject from the perspective of a philosopher and quickly moved into a fairly spirited defense of conceptual and avant-garde art, which, as an appreciator of conceptual and avant-garde art, I appreciated.
The place where she lost was in talking about film, which is odd, because she has, apparently, written a book on film studies. She totally missed that Starship Troopers is a biting and vicious satire. She also got The Matrix wrong, but I tend to think that movie is overrated – less an intellectual achievement than fine popcorn actioner that figured out how to use Keanu Reeves limited, but still excellent talents (when properly harnessed).
First, let me say that my adoptive family (my better half’s sisters, parents, and extended family) take wonderful care of me. As a history buff (and holder of a BA in history, if you must know), they took me to Sukhothai, the capital of the first Kingdom of Siam (back in the 1200s).
When people talk about Sukhothai, they are actually (most likely) referring to three nearby medieval site: Sukhothai, Si Satchanalai, and Kamphaeng Phet. We checked the first two (Si Satchanalai is about 40 minutes drive from the actual site of Sukhothai.
While many of the important sites are in large, park-like areas, where it is traditional to rent a bicycle and pedal around the area (I did), sites are also somewhat randomly scattered about. There was a wat (temple) by the side of the road, some walls in a highway median, and a good sized wat and associated temple grounds directly behind our hotel.
So, I finally got around to seeing this amazing Sotatsu exhibit at the Sackler. It’s around until Sunday, so go see it!
the coffee philosopher 