Don’t worry… I didn’t slip on a patch of ice and crack my head open. I’m still here. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!
It seems I’ve returned to my pre-Japan blogging routine. That is, not blogging very often. My apologies.
So, what’s up?
My Grado SR-60s arrived…again. I first received them around the end of October, only to discover a loose connection in the left driver after about ten hours of burn-in. So, it was back to Grado for repair. Just bad luck, I guess… I had two (!) cooling fans die in my desktop the very same week. I was afraid to get in the car for a little while there.
I’ve been watching a lot of anime, catching up on shows neglected for too long. I finally finished Patlabor and Marmalade Boy, and should wrap up Kaleido Star soon. I had heard the second season of Kaleido Star was a real downer, and how! At least if has more Rosetta…
Oh, and a message to the Anime Blog readers who have recenty found their way over: Mai-Otome > Mai-HiME. I just hope it doesn’t go all stupid once the greater plot kicks in.
And while I’m thinking about it… Happy Birthday Matthew!
It’s been unusually warm the past few days. Now, it’s unusually windy (well, not all that unusual for Nebraska). Next week, it’ll be cold. Hopefully, that’ll finish off the last of the ragweed for good. My poor nose needs a break.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to make a cheese sandwich.
It seems a barn owl has made its home in an unfinished house down the street. Walk outside late at night, and you can hear it calling - like a baby unleashing a blood-curdling scream that resonates throughout the entire neighborhood.
It can be a bit unsettling (to say the least) if you’re not expecting it.
More baby birds.
Of the previous brood, only two survived long enough to leave the nest. Hopefully, these guys will have better luck.
Kind of creepy looking, aren’t they?
“You’ve got to love [movie/TV show/song/book/ice cream flavor].”
I’m not entirely sure why, but this phrase irks me so. Perhaps it’s the imperative “you”. Or perhaps it’s the idea that I should automatically share your interest in whatever the subject may be. The contrary opinion is inconceivable.
I suppose it’s just a common turn of phrase, but I nonetheless cringe when I see it - even if do happen to love [movie/TV show/song/book/ice cream flavor].
The birds won.
I’ve recently started watching The West Wing again. At one time, I was a regular viewer - it was the one and only show I made an honest effort to catch each week - but, with time, I lost interest, especially following the departure of creator Adam Sorkin prior to the 2003 season.
But, for reasons I can’t quite explain, I once again find myself setting aside an hour each Wednesday night to catch the show. It’s the only (American) television I watch over the course of the week, in fact.
Still, the one thing that annoyed me most about the show in the past remains: the vertigo-inducing dialogue. The exchanges between characters are still too fast, too monotone, too scripted, and, ultimately, too unrealistic. Listening to West Wing dialogue is much like watching a shell game unfold: Concentrate enough, and you can stay on top of things. Blink, however, and it’s all over.
It’s not that I don’t have good listening comprehension skills. After all, consider all the Japanese television I watch on a daily basis, sometimes subtitled, sometimes not. In other words, I’m used to processing a lot of information on the fly whilst staring at the screen. So, no, I’m afraid the fault lies in the writing of the West Wing. Or the direction. Or the guy running the sound board.
Thankfully, the show’s most rapid fire exchanges often contain little to nothing of significance. More often than not, it’s just noise. I’m gradually learning to tune it out.
Oh, and my thoughts on the coming Presidential election? Clearly, Jimmy Smits’ Rep. Matthew Santos is being groomed for the job, but I have to admit I rather like the idea of Alan Alda’s Sen. Arnold Vinick winning in the end. I’m giving my vote to President Hawkeye.
I recently finished Peter Carey’s Wrong About Japan: A Father’s Journey With His Son. It’s a remarkably short book, demanding only a day or two of casual reading. It’s also a frustrating book, at least from the viewpoint of an anime fan.
Admittedly, I’m not terribly familiar with Carey’s work. I understand he’s a novelist by trade, and it’s perhaps for this reason Wrong About Japan reads more as an aimless travelogue than a serious piece of reporting (the New York Times review makes a similar point). Often, Carey betrays his own premise, indulging himself with entire chapters on swordmaking and the legacy of World War II. Even in interviews with an assortment of celebrated anime directors and manga artists, Carey himself hogs the spotlight. His Japanese hosts are kind enough to chuckle at his ignorance of their craft and culture, and his son bright enough to give him a jab in the side when appropriate, but as a reader, it took effort to resist muttering “jackass” under my breath with each page.
Thankfully, Carey at least comes to admit his being in over his head, although whether he does so out of acceptance or exasperation, I can’t say. But, I couldn’t help but feel like poor Takashi, our hapless otaku specimen (and local color), annoyed with Carey’s reluctance to see the “Real Japan” right before his eyes. If the author had practiced a bit more humility, he perhaps would have recognized Takashi as a walking encyclopedia of anime and manga culture. I suspect he would have gained more insight from an afternoon in Akihabara with Takashi than in countless interviews with industry stars such as Gundam creator Yoshiyuki Tomino.
The book’s heavy focus on Gundam is an indicator of how Carey only skips across the surface of his subject matter. Granted, Gundam is big, but trying to explain anime and manga culture through the lens of Gundam alone is akin to writing the history of rock ‘n roll using nothing but references to Elvis. And, as Mr. Tomino himself openly admits, Gundam was created in order to sell toy robots and little more (you don’t build a $100 billion industry on social commentary alone). In some ways, Carey and son, being non-Japanese Gundam fans, are a bit of an oddity, for the franchise never saw the sort of popularity in North America that it saw in Japan. American fans cut their teeth on another giant robot franchise: Macross.
Wrong About Japan is not without value, however. The interplay between Carey and son is entertaining, and one particular interview explains the concept of otaku more convincingly than most books on the subject. And, of course, I’d be lying if I said Carey’s lack of familiarity with his subject wasn’t as amusing as it was vexing at times.
Finally, I was surprised by the mention of Jeremy Hedley in the book’s acknowledgments. Apparently, he accompanied Carey and his son on their visit to Studio Ghibli as chronicled in the book’s penultimate chapter. Coincidentally, I believe I first discovered Hedley’s blog via that particular post. It’s a strange, small world.
