Friday, April 28, 2023

Some slight changes of plan

I'm a bit behind on my book review; I had hoped to finish it by the end of the month, but my allergies have been bothering me a lot lately, which has slowed my work down. I'm still hoping to finish it by the end of next week. 

After that, I had originally planned to read Xiaoye You's new book, but I just got the syllabus for the RSA Summer Institute seminar that I'm participating in on decolonizing comparative rhetorics. We're going to be reading about 19 articles/chapters of various lengths, most of which I haven't read before, so I'd better get a start on that work. I also need to write a short bio statement and resurrect a work-in-progress to get it in good enough shape that I'm not embarrassed to share it. (That's due May 18; coincidentally, the most recent draft of my paper is dated May 18, 2021...)

So once I get that book review draft done, I'll try to write a few notes here on the articles I'm reading for this seminar. We'll see how that goes. 

Friday, April 21, 2023

Grading done; now to get to work...

I just finished my grading, so now (well, probably tomorrow) I'll get to work to get an early start on my fellowship leave. First I have to write a book review, which will first involve reading the book! I hope to get all that done by the end of April. Then I'll be getting into the other pile of books and articles that I need to read. 

I've been thinking that to keep myself honest, I should make some notes on my readings here, sort of like what I was doing for my dissertation on my old Kun zhi ji blog (which, surprisingly, still exists!). I never got much feedback on my notes in that blog, though Kerim Friedman once responded to a post about "the literacy crisis in postwar Taiwan," And William Starosta responded to a post about two of his articles on intercultural rhetoric that I had been reading. 

So... I guess if you see me writing some notes on your book or article, feel free to respond. I would appreciate your thoughts, questions, corrections, and/or praise (ahem), all of which will keep me honest in this task I'm setting up for myself. 

Wednesday, April 12, 2023

Some notes on Yang Tsui's (楊翠) 《永不放棄:楊逵的抵抗、勞動與寫作》

楊翠, 《永不放棄:楊逵的抵抗、勞動與寫作》,蔚藍文化, 2016。 Yang Tsui, Never Give Up: Yang Kui's Resistance, Labor, and Writing. Azure Books, 2016.

I finished reading this book on April 3 (I always write the date that I finished a book on the cover page, just to remind myself). Unfortunately, I haven't had much time to write or even think about it because of end-of-the-semester grading that I'm buried in. I'll try now to write down some notes on some of the points from the book that stood out for me. This will be very impressionistic for now; perhaps I'll come back to some of these in some later posts if there's interest. 

In more-or less chronological order, here's some of what I remember from the book without looking at it (this is a good exercise, by the way):

  • Yang Kui's idea of countering Japanese “history” with his own writing;
  • The variety of genres he worked in, including some that it seems he invented (I’m thinking here of his 報告文學 (literary reportage) and 街頭劇 (street performance/plays), etc.);
  • His arguments during the early postwar years (before he went to prison in Green Island) with mainlanders (Yang Tsui calls them "authors who came from China" [中國來台作家]) who dismissed the idea of a “Taiwanese” literature;
  • His friendships with other mainlanders, like the philosopher Xu Fuguan (徐復觀) and the novelist Chiang Kuei (姜貴), who visited Yang at his Tunghai Garden, where he lived after he got out of prison;
  • His relationship with his wife Ye Tao (葉陶) and his granddaughter Yang Tsui (and how Yang Tsui writes about their relationship);
  • His insistence on sticking on principles, even when at times it plunged his family (even deeper) into poverty; 
  • The writing and editing work he did in prison on Green Island

My initial reaction to Yang Tsui's portrayal of Yang Kui's incarceration on Green Island--the earlier parts of her depiction of his writing and publishing in the prison's poster-newspaper (壁報) New Life (新生活), his writing and production of plays, etc.-- was that not only was his time in prison very productive for him, but that it was arguably pretty enjoyable. He didn’t have to worry about family responsibilities, for instance, and could focus on creative work. Yang Tsui also mentions times when Ye Tao and their second son Yang Jian (楊建) were able to visit him for up to half a month. 

But then after reading through all that and thinking that Green Island wasn’t so bad, I was brought up short by Yang Tsui's description of the difficulties his family experienced during that time--the trouble they had keeping body and soul together (exacerbated by Yang’s requests--even demands--for money to buy him medicine), for instance, and the social stigma of having a husband/father in prison. On Yang’s side of things, he tried to communicate with his family through letters, but there was a limit to how much he was allowed to write (300 characters per letter) , so evidently a lot of letters didn’t get sent. In fact, at one point he was punished by not being allowed to write anything to his family for three months (p. 216). Yang Tsui describes his letters to his family, which appear to have been kept in his "New Life Notebooks" (新生筆記簿), as him trying to be a father by instructing his children. Yang Tsui characterizes him as a "Green Island Teacher Chang" (綠島張老師; "Teacher Chang" is an organization in Taiwan devoted to youth counseling).

I found myself wanting to know more about Ye Tao, who is portrayed--during the Japanese period in particular--as being a more outgoing and vocal person than Yang, one who gave speeches and taught, while Yang was more a quiet writerly type of person. She kind of disappears into the background later on, always standing behind him and taking on a supporting role, though it’s clear that she tried to hold the family together while he was in prison. 

After Ye Tao died when Yang and his family had been living at Tunghai Garden, his children all moved away to have their own lives. For some reason, they allowed Yang Kui to take care of his young granddaughter Yang Tsui, something that she doesn’t seem to have enjoyed (though she blames herself as much as she blames him for the troubles they had). Later in life, when she was in college, she wanted to help him write his biography (she was majoring in history at Fu Jen University at the time), but seemed not to be able to get to that when he was alive. 

I enjoyed reading about the life of Yang Kui from the point of view of his granddaughter. I'm not sure how I'd characterize this book--perhaps part biography, part memoir. Yang Tsui spent much of her childhood living with her grandfather at his 東海花園 (Tunghai Garden) home near Tunghai University, and later in her book, she writes about that experience in third-person voice, perhaps to distance her current self from the stubborn and ungrateful person she portrays her childhood self as being. Later on, after she tells of Yang Kui's death in 1985, Yang Tsui attaches a postcript called "Confessions of a Garden Girl" (花園女孩懺情錄), in which she describes (this time in the first person) her last few years with Yang Kui, including when she was a senior at Fu-Jen and lived with him in a house in the hills belonging to a friend of his. She moved out with the excuse that she needed to live closer to the university so she could study more for graduate school entrance exams instead of spending a lot of time commuting. She seems to blame this decision for her grandfather's death. 

In a sense, then, this book acts as a kind of penance for Yang Tsui, as she suggests in this postscript when she writes that "this book is an inscription of more than 30 years of penance" (這本書,銘刻著超過三十年的精神苦行).   

There's a lot more I could say about this book, and I will try to dig into some of those topics I listed above at some point if I get a chance. I think Yang Kui is someone I'm going to have to research in more depth.

Tuesday, April 11, 2023

Wrapping up another semester; beginning something new

I have about a week left of the semester, so I've been doing a lot of reading/commenting on student work recently. I have a draft of my blog post on Yang Tsui's book about her grandfather, Yang Kui, but it's not in any shape yet to meet its public. Maybe I'll have some time to work on it tomorrow.

Some good news is that my application for a Non-Tenure-Track Faculty Fellowship (a one-semester leave--a "sabbatical" by any other name) was approved, so I'll be spending the fall reading and (hopefully) writing a lot about comparative rhetoric and Taiwan history, literature, rhetoric, in order to work on an article and design a comparative rhetoric course. By coincidence, in my first-year writing course this afternoon we were doing some reflective writing about this past semester for the sake of a final reflective piece I'm asking them to write--a letter to their future selves giving themselves advice, warning, encouragement for future writing tasks. I was doing "loop writing" (focused freewriting) on some prompts provided by Elbow and Belanoff in their 1989 book, A Community of Writers. One of the prompts was about the physical aspects of writing, and I wrote this:

Physical: One of the things I’m going to have to think about as I work this summer and into next semester is how I’m going to do the physical work of writing. I’m always taken by Jonathan Spence’s acknowledgements in The Search for Modern China where he thanks the staff of a pizza place near Yale, where he would work on his book. I wonder how he did it. There was a Twitter thread that mentioned that he wrote on legal pads, but I also wonder if he brought books or archival photocopies, etc. with him. I remember when I was working on my dissertation, sometimes I would bring photocopies of archival documents with me to McDonald’s or Starbucks or Dante [a café] or wherever, and I would have a spiral-ring notebook in which I’d write ideas down, sometimes just copying stuff from the archival docs. I used different colors for the quotes vs. for my own ideas. At some point I suppose that I probably would then copy some of that stuff to my computer. Nowadays I don’t imagine doing that kind of thing, but I wonder if it wouldn’t be better to try that out. I have a lot of books that I have to read for this “sabbatical.” Maybe some of the days when I go out to work (whether it be a coffee shop or a library), I can just take one or two of the books I want to work on and a notebook in which I can take notes and write out my ideas longhand. I haven’t done that in so long. I don’t think I’ve done that kind of work since I finished my dissertation back in 2011. I don’t necessarily have to do this every time I go out (I didn’t do it every time back then, even), but maybe some days I can ditch the computer. (Wish I could ditch my cellphone too, but that doesn’t sound like a good idea.) The purpose for this would be, hopefully, to get me to concentrate on my reading and writing rather than spending a lot of energy fighting the urge to check my email or Twitter or something else or to look up something on the internet that ends up taking me down a rabbit hole. ... Yeah. I guess I’ll invest in notebook and try this out.

So I am copying this here in part to remind myself of this and to ask all of my reader to remind me about this idea: try writing longhand sometimes. Get away from the computer. (Here's a link to my post about Jonathan Spence's acknowledgements.)