On Chesil Beach

by Ian McEwan
London: Vintage, 2008.

On Chesil Beach is the second Ian McEwan book that I have read; the first one is Atonement.

On Chesil Beach is a short story (160 pages) about a long night, telling about the mental and physical struggles endured by a newlywed couple on their wedding night.
Their respective anxiety over, resistance to, fear of, and longing for, physical intimacy, are narrated in a voice that feels quiet and calm but powerful and enchanting. The pace of the narrative is very steady and peaceful so that the climax simply catches one off guard. After a space of several lines of the climactic moment, the narrative flow resumes its normal pace, but the narrative impact is overwhelming.
McEwan's prose is a amazingly crafted tapestry of memory. Every moment is intricately intertwined with a long lost moment in the past; every thread of thought and doubt now is interlaced either with a unnamed cause in the past or a unknown consequence in the future. The hero and heroines are trapped in a uncomfortable moment in the history of sexual revolution and torn between their own selves and the world that has made them.

What is wanting more and desiring for just enough?
How can we say what we want to say? How can we avoid being driven by what has been said?

In a scene of reasoning/arguing, the heroine tries to sum up how she has felt but fails, perhaps, to grasp the entire picture of what has been going on in her mind.

She was not sure, but she knew it was the route she was taking. 'You're always pushing me, pushing me, wanting something out of me. We can never just be. We can never just be happy. There's this constant pressure. There's always something more that you want out of me. This endless wheedling.' (p. 145)

Is it still possible to feel certain about ourselves, when every moment of being is heavily ridden with memory, laden with feelings and emotions?

The last few pages of the novel quickly numerates what then has happened to the couple over a course of 50 years after the wedding night. The life of the total 50 years flies across the pages, so rapidly and so forward-moving, as if nothing is worth mentioning after that key moment of the wedding night. How true it is, sometimes, that many of the lives are pinned down at a certain moment/second of loss and regret despite that the course of time relentlessly continues.

What I saw, had, and enjoyed these days

Eryngii has been a recent favorite on our dinner table. This type of mushrooms is full of texture and flavor either fried with asparagus or just simply baked with butter.
I also love the way that it is presented in the supermarket. They always come in a pair: one is always bigger than the other. They are always presented with a taste for elegance in a black container wrapped up nicely with film. The two eryngii are always placed side by side, as if they are just inseparable.

The ground coffee is a nice surprise from C in the beginning of the year. The green can is such a beautiful object for gaze itself, reminiscent of the beautiful Easter and St. Patrick's day in spring and the aroma of coffee late at night on Siward street.







This is a public art, entitled 'Three Piglets', that I found in Ueno station in Tokyo. I was attracted to the colors and the piglets (one of my favorite object for research and curiosity), but a close-up view might provoke unpleasant imagination.

Mercer Art Gallery in Harrogate

I was reminded of a small city, Harrogate, the other day. The lady and I talked about Durham, York and a city nearby which is know for its hot spring and the Betty's tea house. We couldn't recall the name even after the afternoon tea came to an end. I asked K what the place is called at the breakfast table, and, to my surprise, he came up with the word, Harrogate, without any effort. The lady friend also texted me to say that the place name popped up in her mind around midnight.

Recently, I became very cautious of the situation that some terms and names that were used and encountered daily during my stay in the UK are no longer familiar. Last week, coincidentally, it took me almost two days to remember the name of the debit card that overseas students use in that country: Solo card.

My memory about Harrogate started to take shape after the place name was recalled.

In 2007, C and I made a day trip to the Mercer Art Gallery in Harrogate to see the exhibition of William Powell Frith, a Victorian artist painting his contemporary world. It was my first and last visit to the town, but a good time was spent there with a beautiful and nice friend.

Another play by Shakespeare

BBC

'Double Falsehood', a play that was discovered around 300 years ago, was recently credited to William Shakespeare. It is believed to be a work of collaboration between Shakespeare and another playwright, John Fletcher.
'Double Falsehood' is now included in, and published, by the Arden Shakespeare.

I am still waiting to see more debate about this 'discovery', but the news itself is exciting enough for people who enjoy the bard's talent and wit.

Treasures of the Imperial Collections: Splendor of Japanese Art
皇室の名宝ー日本美の華

01/10/2009~03/11/2009
Tokyo National Museum


At the end of last year, K and I went to an exhibition of the collections by the imperial family of Japan, an event that commemorated the emperor's 20th anniversary of coronation. The showpieces all belong to the Museum of the Imperial Collections (三の丸尚藏館) in the imperial palace.
The event was very well-advertised and much anticipated by the public.
The day of our visit was, as expected, another busy one in the museum. It was not easy to appreciate beautiful details of paintings when viewers jostled against each other. However, I did manage to see things that I had never seen, imagination that I had never encountered, colors that I had never thought of, and the nostalgic taste of the past that I have always enjoyed.

One of the biggest stars in the exhibition was the Chinese Lions by Kano Eitoku (狩野永徳)

source of picture

The weighty presence of the painted screen itself was amazing enough. I have always thought that traditional Japanese paintings seem to have already started to cultivate a manga culture which is in its full bloom now. Circular shape and curvy lines render the 2 lions playful big cats rather than fearful kings of the forest.

Another highlight of the show was the collection of the 30 paintings of living creatures by Ito Jakuchuu's (伊藤若沖). The 30 items are presented in an array of vibrant colors, which give flesh and bones to the painter's amazing observation on the world of animals. Ito's work has found great popularity both inside and outside Japan. Although he has been more or less considered to be an artist appealing to a popular taste, the confidence and eaze behind the strokes is very compelling. His works are also tainted with a comical sense, a style which I tend to associate with the art trend in a much later date.

One of my favorite among the 30 items is The Fishes.

Source:「魚群図」

In the centre, the mother octopus is swimming to the right against a school of fish aiming toward the left. On the far end of one of her legs, a baby octopus clings tight to her. I was very amazed at the detail indeed, over-joyed with such an unexpected thought! The addition of the baby cleverly balances the organization of the painting in which the weight of attention concentrates on the space on the right side. Although the baby is on the far left, its small presence redirects the attention to itself. The mom's long leg connects both sides, serving to lead the gaze of its viewers. A clever and comical touch that Jakuchuu added to the work!

I was also very fond of Sakai Houichi's (酒井抱一) paintings of the twelve months,

Source

If Jakuchuu's style is imposing, the quietude and harmony in the 12 months calm the excitement in the viewers who came out of Jakuchuu's showroom.

Another highlight, I reckon, was the "Watermelon" by Katsushika Hokusai (葛飾北斎）.

At first sight, there were a strange feeling of ill-proportion and a awkardness of suspension (the knife). The color and style seem to be too modern to be traditional. However, the immediate thought of a splashy watermelon and the cooling air that the smell of the fruit could produce are all beautifully felt in the piece of white damp cloth, which is damp with the juice of the watermelon.

How to Japan: A Tokyo Correspondent's Take
by Colin Joyce