I hope Richard Bush is making some royalties off of this...

If you are looking for a copy of Richard C. Bush's 2006 book, Untying the Knot: Making Peace in the Taiwan Strait, if you hurry you can pick it up at the low price listed below:

It looks like there are three copies available at these bargain-basement prices:

Glad I got my copy already. (But maybe I should put it up for sale...)

June 2: Webinar, "The Challenge of COVID-19: The Taiwan Experience"

I'm hoping to "attend" this webinar next Tuesday:

6/1/20: UPDATE FROM THE FAIRBANK CENTER:

AVAILABLE ON ZOOM. CLICK HERE TO ATTEND.

WEBINAR – THE CHALLENGE OF COVID-19: THE TAIWAN EXPERIENCE
JUNE 2 @ 9:00 AM - 10:45 AM 

Speakers:Jen-Hsiang Chuang, Deputy Director-General at Centers for Disease Control, Taiwan
Steve Kuo, President, National Yang-Ming University, Taiwan 

Moderators:Winnie Yip, Professor of the Practice of Global Health Policy and Economics in the Department of Global Health and Population, Harvard T.H. Chan School of Public Health; Director, China Health Partnership.
William Hsiao, K.T. Li Research Professor of Economics in Department of Health Policy and Management and Department of Global Health and Population, Harvard T.H. Chan School of Public Health 

Organizer: Steven Goldstein, Sophia Smith Professor of Government, Emeritus, Smith College; Fairbank Center Associate 

Webinar is available using Microsoft Teams or Chrome, Firefox, or Edge. No registration is required.
Click here to attend.

Will write up some notes about it afterwards (assuming I have time!).

Our second floor feels like a three-warms

My wife told me this afternoon that our upstairs felt like a 三溫暖 (sān wēnnuǎn; sauna), and that got me thinking about the origins of this term.

But to start with a digression: for some reason, when I typed 三溫暖 into Google Translate, it romanized it as "Sān wēng nuǎn" instead of "Sān wēn nuǎn." I'm not sure why. But I noticed that if I put spaces between the characters: 三 溫 暖, Google "fixed" the transliteration to ""Sān wēnnuǎn." If I leave a space between 三 and 溫暖, it's OK. But as soon as I put 三 and 溫 together, it becomes "Sān wēng nuǎn." Why is that? Here are some screen shots to prove it!

Getting back to the point of this post. I found several sources that say 三溫暖, like its synonym 桑拿 (sāngná) are transliterated loanwords from English. (To me, though, it's easier to hear "sauna" from sāngná than from sān wēnnuǎn.) 

This led me to wonder if there was actually something in traditional Chinese referring to "three warms." Looking up "三溫暖是什麼意思" I found that a lot of people in China were evidently curious about this, too. One respondent on a forum on Baidu wrote, that 三溫暖 was what people in Taiwan call 桑拿: 

一个台湾朋友给了很权威的解释：Sauna，在台湾翻译成“三温暖”，其实是兼顾了音译和意译。“三温暖”除了跟英语的“Sauna”读音相近外，意思上也表达了这个蒸汽浴的传统。传统的芬兰桑拿房是全木结构，在桑拿房靠墙建有三阶木榻，每阶的温度各不一样，中下层的温度更低，方便老人家和小孩子，而上面那层温度最高，适合身体好的青壮年人享用，因为Sauna屋有三阶温度各异的木榻，所以称“三温暖”，意思也贴合。

To Googlify:

A Taiwanese friend gave a very authoritative explanation: Sauna, translated as "three warmth" in Taiwan, is actually a combination of transliteration and free translation. "Sanwennuan" is similar to the English pronunciation of "Sauna", which also expresses the steam bath tradition. The traditional Finnish sauna is made of all-wood structure. There are three steps of wooden couches built against the wall of the sauna. The temperature of each step is different. The temperature of the middle and lower levels is lower, which is convenient for the elderly and children. The upper level has the highest temperature and is suitable for young and middle-aged people who are in good health to enjoy. Because a sauna house has wooden beds with third-order temperatures, so it is called "three warmth", and the meaning also fits.

But then they add, interestingly, something about the meaning of 三溫暖 in Korea:

韩式“三温暖”：就是头一汤泡到摄氏36度的水池里十分钟，然后跳到冷水池里；第二汤泡到40度的水池里十分钟，接着再跳到冷水池里；最后是干、湿桑拿十分钟，再跳到冷水池里。这样，热水下皮肤伸张，排出身体中的污垢、头屑等排泄物；冷水下，皮肤收紧，防止脏物回流。如此“三热”、“三冷”，构成“三温暖”。按照韩国人的说法，三温暖可促进血液循环和新陈代谢，对肌肤美容和体形塑造有神奇效果。

To roughly (and Googly) translate:

Korean-style "three warmth": the first time is to soak in the pool at 36 degrees Celsius for ten minutes, and then jump into a cold pool; the second time is to soak in the pool at 40 degrees for ten minutes, and then jump into the cold pool. The last is a dry and wet sauna for ten minutes before jumping into the cold pool. In this way, the skin stretches under hot water to discharge dirt, dandruff and other excretions from the body; under cold water, the skin tightens to prevent the backflow of dirt. Such "three hots" and "three colds" constitute "three warms". According to Koreans, Sanwennuan can promote blood circulation and metabolism, and has a magical effect on skin beauty and body shape.

I'm not much of a saunaphile, so I can't say which of these interpretations best fits the Taiwanese idea of saunas. (I should add that my wife is also not a frequenter of saunas, but said she has heard the "Korean" description more than the "Finnish" one in Taiwan.) All I can say is that it was hot upstairs today!

Go Grandriders 不老騎士

I saw that ｢不老騎士：歐兜邁環台日記｣ Go Grandriders (2012) was on Kanopy and asked our school library to order it. I'm thinking of using it in my Travel Writing class in the fall as a look into another perspective on travel by looking at what motivates the elderly people in this documentary (averaging over 80 years old) to go on a motorcycle trip around Taiwan. The movie came out about a year after I left Taiwan, but evidently it was filmed in 2007, while I was still there. For some reason, though, I don't recall hearing about this trip while I was there (though I imagine it was in the news). And I only had a vague recollection of the film before I "discovered" it on Kanopy. Here's the trailer for the movie:

As you can see from the trailer, the film is somewhat sentimental. Reviews that I read of the movie ranged from Miriam Bale's snarky and dismissive hit piece to slightly more appreciative pieces, like Justin Chang's review that calls the movie "warmly ingratiating" while admitting that the movie is somewhat superficial and at times "unexciting."

But I wonder how the film plays to different audiences. It seems to have been well-received in Taiwan, as well as in Hong Kong and South Korea (Chinese Wikipedia). It touches on some aspects of Taiwanese modern history, particularly the Japanese colonial period when some of the riders had been police or on opposing sides of the war between Japan and China. It might be that a reaction like Bale's is due at least in part to not understanding the whole context of the film. Bale claims (she doesn't support the statement, so I can't call it an argument) that what she calls "mystery" in the film comes "mostly from omission in the sometimes inept storytelling." But my guess is that anyone familiar with Taiwan's history--the primary audience of the film--would not find much mysterious about it. When one of the riders, a former Nationalist Chinese soldier, says that another rider, a Taiwanese lieutenant in the Imperial Japanese army, used to be enemies but that "a smile between brothers can melt enmity"(兄弟一笑泯恩仇), this seems no mystery to me (the question then being whether it's the director's responsibility to spoonfeed Taiwanese history to an American viewer like Bale).

It might be, too, that the style of the movie is also more suitable for some East Asian audiences than for American audiences. That's certainly a possibility, given the fact that the film was a winner at the Asian American International Film Festival and was nominated at the 17th Busan International Film Festival and the Hong Kong Asian Film Festival. However, it's also interesting to observe that the most positive review I saw published was by Frank Scheck, in which he concludes,

The filmmaker documents the proceedings in refreshingly matter-of fact-fashion, thankfully avoiding the temptation to overly sentimentalize or mine cheap humor and contrived suspense from the proceedings. It somehow seems doubtful that an American director would have shown such restraint.

I don't know much about Scheck besides the fact that he's described as an "American film critic," but he has a more understanding perspective on the film than Bale.

At any rate, I'll be interested to see how students in my Travel Writing online class respond to the movie. I'm putting together some questions for them to think about regarding the role of place vs. the role of the journey in the film. I'll have to think more about the questions, which will probably involve watching it again. Pass the Kleenex, please!

Finished reading Before the Storm

So I decided that instead of feeding my rage over what's going on currently, I'd give myself a chance to rage about the past. I just finished Rick Perlstein's 2001 history of '60s conservatism, Before the Storm: Barry Goldwater and the Unmaking of the American Consensus.

Like the other two Perlstein books that I've read (Nixonland and The Invisible Bridge), this book was packed with historical details of famous, infamous, and little-known events and people, seemingly culled (by Perlstein or his research assistants) from newspapers of every size across the US. In with the assassination of John F. Kennedy, the candidacy of Maine senator Margaret Chase Smith (the first woman to run for president as part of a major party), and the murder of Kitty Genovese are such details as the number of African American journeymen in the Brooklyn plumbers' local ("three ... out of several thousand members" [236]), the rise of businesses and products catering to fears of nuclear war (like "'Foam-Ettes--the Toothpaste Tablet You Can Use ANYTIME, ANYWHERE--WHEREVER YOU ARE, even in a family fallout shelter' [143]"), and the origins of the boysenberry and its relationship to the growth of conservatism.

Unfortunately, some of Before the Storm is as hard to read as that previous sentence probably was. Like a lot of readers (at least judging from the book's reviews on Amazon), I came to this book last, after having read Nixonland and The Invisible Bridge. Reading the books out of order like this, I can see how Perlstein's style has (fortunately) developed. Like the later books, this one sometimes takes detours in the narrative to bring readers up to date about a figure, trend, or other historical development that is important to the overall story. At times, however, the detours were not accompanied with proper signage and I found myself lost when I was back on the main road. At times I'd be reading along and suddenly come along a sentence like, "By July, ..." and wonder, "July of what year?"

Overall, though, I learned a lot from this book. It even clued me in on a 1953 executive order signed by Eisenhower "demanding homosexuals be fired not just from all federal jobs bur from all companies with federal contractors--one-fifth of the U.S. workforce" (490). This order, Executive Order 10450, was interesting to me as it seems to have formed part of the context in which George Kerr was forced to resign from his work at Stanford with the International Cooperation Administration. (See my brief bio of Kerr in the Camphor Press edition of Formosa Betrayed.)

I see that Perlstein has a new volume coming out in August: Reaganland. I'm looking forward to it, but considering that the Amazon website says it's 1040 pages long, it'll be a while before I get to it...

A break from COVID and CANVAS

I was going to post a thoughtful note on George H. Kerr's perspective on the April 24, 1970 assassination attempt on Chiang Ching-kuo, but I'm burned out on COVID-19 news and transferring my Blackboard materials to Canvas for my first summer class that begins May 4. So I'm going to relax with this video, which I just encountered. Apologies if you've seen it before:

Ragesurfing

This is the term I came up with this morning to describe how I lurch from one anger-inducing news story to another about the intersection of politics and COVID-19 (and, sometimes, bad reporting).* I imagine I'm not the only person who does this. I've seen the term "doomsurfing," but that describes something a bit different--as Kevin Roose defines it, doomsurfing consists of "falling into deep, morbid rabbit holes filled with coronavirus content, agitating [one]self to the point of physical discomfort, erasing any hope of a good night’s sleep." Ragesurfing, perhaps a subspecies of doomsurfing, is characterized by the active pursuit of news articles that you know will make you angry and a descent into the rabbit hole of reading the comments on stories or social media posts with an emphasis on the ones that you strongly disagree with or that are dismissive or insulting to your perspective. "I knew there would be some idiots who would agree (or disagree, as the case may be) with this posting!" you say, vindicated in your belief that not everyone on the internet is as enlightened as you (OK, this is about me), at the same time growing more and more angry and despairing at how stupid and/or evil "they" are.

I'm not sure what motivates ragesurfing; Roose, in another article, argues that what he calls "machine drift" happens when our thoughts and emotions are influenced by our online experiences through "a combination of humans and sophisticated forms of artificial intelligence." He quotes the adage that "We shape our tools, and thereafter our tools shape us." His objective is to explore how our tools shape us, which, if you believe that ragesurfing is a result of being manipulated by our tools, seems an important consideration. Maybe his podcasts will shed some light on this phenomenon (though he'll probably end up giving it another name that will stick better than "ragesurfing," which will probably make me even madder).

Note that ragesurfing doesn't imply engaging those other points of view, though I guess it doesn't preclude engagement. Personally, I don't have a Twitter or Facebook account, so my consumption of social media is strictly from the sidelines. This might enhance the feelings of impotent rage--Roose suggests that "using social media actively makes us feel better than consuming it passively," but I have no intention of diving into the volcano just because I'm burning my feet by dancing around the edge.

I suppose that ragesurfing, unlike doomsurfing as it's currently being used, does not have to be concerned only with coronavirus-related content. However, it makes sense that it would surface now, when I'm stuck at home, sitting in front of the computer or staring at my phone way too much.

I need to get back to grading right now, so I'm just going to post this as a "half-formed thought." I'll try to stay away from my usual grazing locations. Like a cow that eats too much lush green grass in the spring, I'm liable to start staggering around and fall over. (That simile probably proves I'm a suburbanite.)

*Update: I found the hashtag "#RageSurfing used once in a late 2018 tweet:

Doesn't seem to be exactly what I mean by the term, though... "Ragesurf" also comes up, as in this tweet:

Still doesn't seem to mean the same thing.

I'm supposed to be grading...

My son's first book

My son has gotten into writing books now. His writing looks like a flock of birds, and he glues the pages together so they form sort of a long wallpaper-like thing. Maybe a scroll, except that he doesn’t roll it up.

It’s all about Thomas and Friends, of course. The trains look like alien heads with big eyes on top of long footless legs (which are actually wheels). Then he draws the tracks and writes the text (see the left-hand side.) He could write some real letters if he wanted to, but I’m not going to rush him. He finished one book last night and got to work on another one today. I wish I had his energy. He calls them “Awdry books,” so I guess they’re based on the books the Rev. W. Awdry wrote back in the day.

Clearing out yesterday's fallen branches

Yesterday a big storm came through, with heavy rain and strong winds that tossed branches around the yard and even cut out our power for about 45 minutes.  (We were lucky on both counts--other people in the state had trees fall on their houses or lost power for much longer times.) Today was a reasonably nice day, so this afternoon my five-year-old and I went out to clean up the fallen branches that were scattered all over the yard.

My son alternated between picking up branches to put in my wheelbarrow and playing with his wooden Thomas trains; sometimes his trains helped carry the branches over. Henry, the big green tender engine, was especially helpful. While we worked on collecting the branches, we discussed Henry--his helpful but sometimes "arrogant and vain" personality (as my son described it), his fear of rain, of wind, and of heights. Every once in a while it amazes me not just that he's talking so much, but that we have things to talk about (though our most content-rich conversations seem to circulate around Thomas and his friends, which I know more about now than I ever wanted to).

Of course, now that we have all of these branches, I have to figure out how to get them to the dump on Saturday...

Light at the end of the tunnel...

... for this semester, anyway. This week is the last week of classes, and I'm finishing up reading drafts of Travel Writing portfolios right now. I've made everything due at the end of the week so I can get caught up on grading the "little" things and attending to last-minute student questions.

It has been interesting teaching all of my courses online this semester. The confused feeling that a lot of people have been having the past few weeks--not knowing when the work day begins or ends, not even knowing what day of the week it is--has been my experience since January, so I've more-or-less gotten used to it. While I have missed a lot of face-to-face interaction that happens when I'm in the office more frequently, the sense of FOMO has slowly faded. (Probably in part because the school has been closed for about a month.) I do still have the weird feeling that time has stretched out--the beginning of the semester, the impeachment of old what's-his-hair, and all the other pre-COVID-19 events of 2020 seem to have taken place years ago.

No recommendations for people working from home as a result of this--I'm not in the business of giving advice on this blog (at least not purposely). In this case, I'm probably not a good model of how to work from home, at least if you read the advice other people give. It's 3:30 in the afternoon right now, I'm sitting on the sofa with a blanket over me and I haven't showered yet today. The TV is on to Paw Patrol (not for me) and my son is still in his pajamas and getting muffin crumbs all over the sofa. No role model here...

How Tunghai University ended up in Taichung instead of Hsinchu

I'm supposed to be working on my never-ending (never-beginning?) Kerr paper right now, but I'm going to take a break to transcribe an April 29, 1954 letter to George H. Kerr concerning Tunghai University. The letter is from Re-lin Su (蘇瑞麟), a former student of Kerr's (a little about him here). According to an article in the Bradford County Telegraph, Su was the "principal of the Chu Tung County High School in Shin-chu, Formosa." He was in the US at the time of this letter, under the auspices of the Foreign Operations Administration of the US government.

Here's the letter:

April 29, 1954 

Dear Kerr Sensei: 

I'm glad to hear from you. This is my third week here, and I have a very light program. There is nothing to do except to attend conferences, all kinds, whether it concerns my program or not. I'm sure I can't learn much, but it is good for me to read some books and prepare my monthly, quarter, predeparture and final reports. 

I've not met Mr. Kabura yet. He is living at dormitory. It is my pleasure to hear he is here, I'm going to try to see him. 

Before I left Formosa I've heard about a new college. My hometown was one of the two prearranged campuses, but because of county governor of my county was not interested in it, so the new college was decided to be established at Taichu. And last January when I was in Berea College, Ky, I've heard something about it. I was told it was going to follow Berea College--labor system. But at that time it was not decided what and how many departments the new college should have. There is one agricultural college in Taichu already. As for social science, our government does not like it any more. I think you are still remember there was an evening college for social science in Taihoku before the February war. I'm sure you know why our government does not like to open social science college.  

This new college is a mission college. I think it will be good for Formosa. At least some more high school graduates can attend college and receive college level education. You might not be able to imagine how hard to attend college in Formosa, even secondary school.  

We've around three hundred secondary schools--senior high and junior high--and yet only about half of elementary graduates who want to attend junior high school can go to junior high school. The circumstance is not better at all since the Japanese control. 

Do you have any concern about the college? I've ever talk to one of professor in Berea College. I want to put up some relation between my high school and the college. Not only to send students to the college, but to get their help and cooperation to my school's extension service to the communities.  

I've written a few lines before, the county governor was not interested in a new college. In fact, he was not he was interested in it. There will be a election of county governor in May, he wanted to be as candidate again. When two years ago there was the first election for county governor in Formosa, I was the most hopeful one. He came to talk with me let him try, and this time--this May 2--he would help me. Because of I had not so much money to forward as candidate, and he is older than me, so I agreed to let him try.  

And last May before I came the States because he wished to forward as candidate again, so he was afraid of me very much. If the college was established at my home town if I would forward as candidate he was sure he would fail. So, so long as the college concerns he did not show any interest and guide those people who came to see the prearranged campus, he let one of supervisor of schools led to a place where there are two Buddist Temples.  

On the contrary Taichu offered a large land for campus, in fact Taichu is much better than the place where the county governor had shown in my county. 

And this time only one candidate for county governor. Of course I'm not interested in that job I am enjoying my present job more.  

But still is the strongest enemy for him, and many people wanted to put me as candidate this time while I am here and know nothing about their election. 

This democratic way does not profit our democracy at all so long as this election concerns. 

Sincerely yours, 

RL. Su

Su, Yao-tsung, ed. Correspondence by and about George H. Kerr (II), pp 593-596. (Errors in original.)

Another new book in the former native speaker's library

I came across Michael Berry in his response to a position paper by Shu-mei Shih about "Linking Taiwan Studies with the World" (from my quick dip into the International Journal of Taiwan Studies). Given his invocation of China as "the elephant in the room" facing Taiwan studies, I was curious to see where he was coming from in terms of his research. Looking at his bio and research statement on the UCLA website, I found that he had translated Wu He's Remains of Life. So I decided to buy it.

Now I'm thinking about whether I should rearrange my "order of reading" for the books I've received. I have to admit I haven't gotten very far into any of the books that I mentioned receiving last month. Too busy being enraged by current events. (I keep thinking I should start a Twitter account just to link to all the things that enrage me. Would that be therapeutic, do you think?) Maybe reading a novel would be a nice way to get away from current events. (Though reading about the Musha Incident isn't exactly pleasant...)

Here are some reviews of the book that I have found. Although they're all about the English version, they don't say much about Berry's translation.

• "Remembering the Musha Incident: Wu He’s Remains of Life" by Ilaria Maria Sala (Cha Journal, April 2018)
  
• "'Remains of Life' by Wu He" by Yu Zhang (Asian Review of Books, 18 July 2017)
• "'Remains of Life' by Wu He [Why This Book Should Win]" by Adam Hetherington (Three Percent)
• "James Joyce-like novel about Japanese genocide of Taiwan tribes is a tough read, but worth the effort" by Mike Cormack (South China Morning Post Magazine)

"A Government of Merchants": GHK (indirectly) on the Trump administration's handling of COVID-19

[Update, 10:48 p.m. Well, this doesn't make any sense, probably  because I've been feeling tired and dizzy all day. The "parallels" are kind of loose. I guess the part I would emphasize here is that both regimes were/are corrupt and that both "leaders" didn't/don't take responsibility for their incompetence and corruption. I didn't go into Chen Yi's role in the cholera and bubonic plague outbreaks, but there's probably some parallel there, too. See this paragraph from Denny Roy's Taiwan: A Political History, where Chen's first director of public health declines to stop dumping sewage from cholera wards into ponds that were used for fishing by saying, "After all, only the poor people are contracting the disease." The only parallel is that reading about what's going on now gives me the same feeling of impotent rage that reading Formosa Betrayed gives me.]

Reading about some of what has been going on with the way the Trump administration is handling the coronavirus reminded me of chapter five of George H. Kerr's Formosa Betrayed. This chapter, entitled "A Government of Merchants," contains descriptions of the Chen Yi government in Taiwan that are sadly evocative of the Trump government's practices. To name a few:

• Kerr: "Next the Governor's own men developed a firm control of all industrial raw materials, agricultural stockpiles and confiscated real properties turned over to them by the vanquished Japanese. By the end of 1946 these huge reserves were fairly well exhausted, and at last in early 1947 the Governor's Commissioners imposed a system of extreme monopolies affecting every phase of the island's economic life. This was Chen Yi's 'Necessary State Socialism' in its developed form and the ultimate cause of the 1947 rebellion." 
• From Raw Story today (4/3/20), we get the news that after Jared Kushner claimed on Thursday that "The notion of the federal stockpile was it’s supposed to be our stockpile. It’s not supposed to be states’ stockpiles that they then use," the Strategic National Stockpile's website changed the Stockpile's mission statement to reflect Kushner's view. The original mission statement that called the Stockpile "the nation’s largest supply of life-saving pharmaceuticals and medical supplies for use in a public health emergency severe enough to cause local supplies to run out" and promised to get "the right medicines and supplies ... to those who need them most during an emergency." The new mission statement removes those assurances and calls the Stockpile "a short-term stopgap buffer" that can be used "to supplement state and local supplies during public health emergencies." The onus goes to the states to develop their own stockpiles, which is almost impossible to do since, as some governors have complained, the federal government keeps outbidding state and local governments on personal protective equipment (PPE). (It's admittedly not an exact parallel, but the similarity is that the federal government--through Kushner--is claiming "ownership" of the stockpile. Who is Kushner referring to when he says "it's supposed to be our stockpile" (emphasis added)?) Although Trump would never use the term "necessarily state socialism," it's the same kind of graft...
• Kerr: "To loud demands for action [on rice shortages caused by government confiscation] the Government first replied with flowery talk of 'patriotism' and 'food for the Army, defending Formosa from Communism,' and then Chen lost patience with the critics. He sharply denied Government responsibility, countering with charges that the Formosans themselves were selfishly hoarding grain. Undoubtedly some Formosans were, but the quantities in private hands were insignificant."
• While the Trump administration outbids state and local governments on PPE and denies its responsibility to supply them with needed supplies, Trump accuses hospital employees of stealing supplies. As Kerr says about the hoarding of grain, there might be some theft, but as the Vox article says, it's "hardly on the scale the president has suggested, and only what is needed to keep hospitals running given the federal government had not been able to provide them with badly needed supplies."
• Kerr: "After the Transfer [of Taiwan from Japan to the KMT government] few of these stockpiled materials reached the open market through legal channels. In most instances we have records of quantities surrendered (records made by the Japanese), but only the vaguest indication of what became of them. Of 423,000 tons of camphor surrendered, for example, an official report shows that only 400 tons were actually refined in the first half-year of the Chinese occupation. We do know that very large shipments left the island, assigned to private warehouses in Hong Kong. Nearly 3,500,000 cases of matches were surrendered, but an acute shortage of matches developed in Formosa in early 1946. (At the first People's Political Council, in May, the Government spokesman explained this, saying that the Government had been able to distribute only 1473 cases in the first six months 'because of lack of adequate transport.') The match stockpiles, too, had gone to the mainland."
• An April 2 question-and-answer between CBS' Weijia Jiang and Rear Adm. John Polowczyk of the Joint Chiefs of Staff confirms that the "airbridge" the US government has established to bring in supplies from abroad is mainly being used to supply private companies with those much-needed medical materials. In other words, the taxpayers are paying to provide shipping services to commercial companies that then sell those supplies to the highest bidder (among state and local governments)--which means that the taxpayers are paying (at least) twice for the supply of these PPE, ventilators, and other medical supplies. I don't know if this is illegal, though I know it should be...

I could go on, but I have to think about my blood pressure...

On the bright side (for me, anyway)...

I feel like Mr. Scott. Getting some reading done. Currently reading through some articles from the International Journal of Taiwan Studies. (But now will probably end up binge-watching Star Trek...)

Three new books in the former native speaker's library

Since the Association of Asian Studies conference this year was cancelled, I took advantage of the University of Hawai'i Press Asian Studies online sale (you can still order by 3/31!) to buy a couple of books that I have been interested in for a while:

• Maritime Ryukyu, 1050-1650, by Gregory Smits (2019)--I got interested in this book after reading John Grant Ross' enthusiastic review on the bookish.asia blog. 
• Liminality of the Japanese Empire: Border Crossings from Okinawa to Colonial Taiwan, by Hiroko Matsuda (2019)--this book combines two of my favorite kinds of research methods--archival work and oral histories--to tell the story of Okinawans who immigrated to Taiwan during the Japanese colonial period there. Paul Barclay has a positive review of the book in Japanese Studies. 

The books showed up on my porch today, so I donned my hazmat suit and brought them in. Since we're all socially distancing ourselves right now, I might even get a chance to read them in the near future, especially if I don't read my books in the order that I buy them. 

I'm currently reading another book that I ordered earlier:

• Inconvenient Strangers: Transnational Subjects and the Politics of Citizenship, by Shui-yin Sharon Yam (2019). I haven't seen any reviews of this book yet, but I'm interested in Yam's discussion of storytelling as a way to promote what she calls "deliberative empathy" among different and differently-empowered groups in a society. I'm also interested in the book's focus on Hong Kong as a site of struggle among competing populations of Hongkongers, South Asians, Southeast Asian domestic workers, and mainland Chinese migrants.
  

Hopefully posting these books will force me to read them!

We still live in interesting times, but I'd like them to be more boring...

I started this blog 16 years ago tonight with the rather bland line, "We live in interesting times in Taiwan."

Sixteen years ago, we had just come out of the SARS scare; I remember lecturing about library research to classes of masked students. Now all the instructors at my current school are teaching online.

I'm teaching a travel writing course to students who are strongly advised, if not required, to stay inside. Luckily, one of the most recent readings for this class was the chapter, "On Habit," from Alain de Botton's book, The Art of Travel. In this chapter, de Botton relates the experience of trying to treat his familiar surroundings as new and strange. Drawing on the ideas of eighteenth-century Frenchman Xavier de Maistre, who wrote a book about traveling around his bedroom, de Botton suggests that we need to revisit the familiar; as he puts it, "Xavier de Maistre was gently nudging us to try, before taking off for distant hemispheres, to notice what we have already seen" (249).

In response to this reading, I asked students to walk around their neighborhoods and try to treat them as strange new places. I didn't know when I set up the course that COVID-19 would confine us to our immediate surroundings, but as I say, we live in interesting times. Some students addressed the coronavirus directly in their writings, pointing out how it had changed their surroundings and the way they viewed them. One cited a line from Pascal that de Botton quotes toward the beginning of his chapter:

"The sole cause of man's unhappiness is that he does not know how to stay quietly in his room"--Pascal, Pensées, 136.

I guess we have a chance to train ourselves to stay quietly in our rooms.

Sent this to NPR about COVID-19 management in Taiwan

I've been getting frustrated with how the US media has been generally ignoring Taiwan's management of the coronavirus, especially in contrast to the mismanagement here at the federal level. The WHO is busy praising the PRC for its handling of the coronavirus, but the fact is that Taiwan was much more open, transparent, and effective in its response from the beginning.

An interview on Weekend Edition yesterday with Bruce Aylward, senior advisor to the director general of the World Health Organization, was the straw that broke the camel's back for me. In response to that interview, and to the fact that as far as I've heard and seen, there hasn't been any coverage of Taiwan's response, I wrote the following short note (I edited the links for this blog, since I couldn't make active links on the contact form):

In response to the interview yesterday with Dr. Bruce Aylward of the World Health Organization and his portrayal of China's response to COVID-19, I wonder why there has been no coverage on NPR (as far as I can tell from searching the website) of Taiwan's successful response to the coronavirus. If you look at articles like this one from Al-Jazeera and from the JAMA Network, you can see that Taiwan is actually leading the world in managing the coronavirus crisis. This, in the context of the WHO's continued refusal to allow Taiwan even observer status. (See also this article from Foreign Policy.) Taiwan is even helping other countries like Palau with coronavirus management. American listeners would probably be very interested in hearing about a country where the government is proactively and effectively curbing the spread of COVID-19.

I also sent this to PRI's The World and CNN. I don't know this will have any effect on the lack of coverage of Taiwan, but I encourage anyone else who wants to spread the word to write to their favorite stations, local and national. I'm not on social media, so I don't know how much this is already going on, but we have to keep pushing Taiwan's story in various ways.

[Update, 3/14/20: NPR's website now features an article entitled, "With Odds Against It, Taiwan Keeps Coronavirus Corralled." I don't know if my email had any role in this, but it's good news.]

Андрей Гражданцев in Russians in China. Genealogical index (1926-1946)

Not quite sure what to do with this information yet, but here's a reference to Grajdanzev about when he was in China. I'd love to know if any of the other Гражданцев names are of related people.

"НА" stands for Справочник «Весь Харбин» за 1926 год (Roughly, "All Harbin" Directory for 1926). According to this book, there's a copy in the Russian State Library (копия в Российской Государственной Библиотеке [шифр Рос 3-4/2-63]). Would love to know if anyone in the US has it. (WorldCat lists a copy about 1923 that's available in the New York Public Library, but it's the wrong year.) 



Ah me and my weird obsessions...

[Update: The author of Russians in China, Kirill Chashchin, has a blog: http://rusgenproject.com/. Perhaps I should write to him...]

My copy of Grajdanzev's Formosa Today

Around the time I started posting about Andrew Grajdanzev, I bought a relatively inexpensive copy of his 1942 book, Formosa Today, on Amazon. It didn't click with me at the time, but when I received the book, the name "Harold J. Noble" was written at the top of the cover.

I don't know if this means that Noble owned the book or not. The book used to belong to the College of the Pacific--there's a bookplate on the inside front cover that says, "In Memory of Harold Joyce Noble." Noble, who was born and raised in Korea as a missionary kid, was a major in the Marines during WW2 and later on First Secretary in the US embassy in Seoul in 1950. Before that, he received his PhD from the University of California, Berkeley (writing on "Korea and Her Relations with the United States before 1895") and teaching at the University of Oregon from 1931-1934. He was also a member of the Institute of Pacific Relations. He died at the relatively young age of 50 (I can say that now) aboard a flight from Japan to Hawaii on December 22, 1953, when he was on his way home to California.

"A Lasting Memento: John Thomson’s Photographs Along the River Min"

Happened this morning upon a TV show called Asian Focus that's on Sunday mornings at 7:00 (why so early on a Sunday morning??). There was a segment on about an exhibit of photographs of Fuzhou, China, taken in 1870-71 by Scottish photographer John Thomson, with accompanying contemporary photographs by Luo Dan, a Chinese photographer inspired by Thomson's photographs. The exhibition is open until May 17th at the Peabody Essex Museum in Salem, MA:

As far as travel souvenirs go, few can beat John Thomson’s leather-bound photo album Foochow and the River Min. From 1870 to 1871, the Scottish-born photographer traveled 160 miles up the River Min to document the area in and around the city of Fuzhou (Foochow), an important center of international trade and one of the most picturesque provinces in China. Thomson sold his book by advance subscription to the foreign residents of Fuzhou — tea planters, merchants, missionaries and government officials — who wanted a way to share their experiences with friends and family back home.

Fewer than 10 of the original 46 copies of this album survived, and the Peabody Essex Museum is privileged to own two of them. A Lasting Memento: John Thomson’s Photographs Along the River Min presents this rare collection of photographs for the first time at PEM. The exhibition also features 10 works by contemporary Chinese photographer Luo Dan.

Luo Dan's photographs sound interesting because he evidently used the same complicated photographic process (apologies to my late father for my complete ignorance about the history of photography) to photograph members of the Lisu and Nu ethnicities in southwestern China. So his pictures look very old even though they're not. (You can see an example on this page.)

Guess I'll have to find some time to go up to Salem before May 17 to have a look!

[Update, 5/20/20: Well that never happened.]