Lotsa linkage

I have never had an abortion. I have, however, used Planned Parenthood services numerous times over the years, because despite what many people believe, PP is much more than an abortion provider: birth control, cervical exams, STD/HIV testing... At times when I had no job or health insurance, PP was the only place I could go that A) would take a person w/ no insurance and B) was affordable.

The U.S. House of Representatives has just voted to bar Planned Parenthood health centers from all federal funding for birth control, cancer screenings, HIV testing, and other lifesaving care. CLICK HERE to find out more and to learn how you can help.

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Something that everyone should read. Incredibly depressing, yet at the same time, inspirational. And highly informative. The shit that goes on against women in our modern world is just unconscionable. Read and learn, and find out how you can help. (And a big thanks to my Aunt Mary for sending this to me!)

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We've put up a lot of stuff over at Desolation Travel of late. On the blog, Derek wrote about his time in the Crimea, and Joe wrote about the madness of Turkmenbashi. Additionally, we've started uploading some of our own YouTube creations. Enjoy!

Meanwhile, if you're interested in seeing the photos from the Crimea and Turkmenistan, just click on the photographs below :-)

Crimea: Sevastopol, Khersones, Bakhchisaray, and Balaklava, Ukraine


Turkmenistan

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And lastly, here's Charlie, being cute :-)

Book review times two!

But, as I've reviewed books about traveling to remote and desolate places, it should be obvious that the review is not below, but over on the Desolation Travel blog. Just click here or on either of the pictures below - and enjoy!

Just in time for Columbus Day

Just in time for Columbus Day (which I say with irony), I have finished reading Eye of the Raven, the second in Eliot Pattison's Colonial America mystery series. I utterly adore Eliot Pattison - his prose is beautiful, his plots are intricate, and his insight is incredible. Eye of the Raven does not disappoint. Like his Inspector Shan series of mysteries set in Tibet, his Colonial America mysteries illuminate the impact of a conquering empire on a traditional culture. While reading the Tibetan series, it is easy to cast aspersions on the modern-day Chinese for their continued attempts at the destruction of the Tibetan way of life... Yet this glimpse into pre-Revolutionary War relations between European settlers and indiginous Americans shows our ancestors to be little better than the modern-day Chinese. Makes me proud to be a quarter Scottish (the European protagonist is a Scot), and relieved that my ancestors didn't make it to the "new world" until the 20th century. I recommend reading all books by Pattison - if you're interested in the Tibetan series, you should start with The Skull Mantra, and it you're interested in his colonial American series, you should start with The Bone Rattler. [Also, Happy Birthday, Melissa!!]

The Reluctant Communist

I just finished reading The Reluctant Communist: My Desertion, Court-Martial, and Forty-year Imprisonment in North Korea by Charles Robert Jenkins (with the help of Jim Frederick), and I have *very* mixed feelings about it. I read this book from beginning to end rather quickly, and I found it absolutely fascinating… if at times rather grating.

This book, as you might be able to glean from the title, is about a former US Army soldier Sergeant Charles Robert Jenkins who, while stationed at the DMZ in 1965 decided to go AWOL and cross the border into North Korea. He didn’t choose to do this out of some ideological affinity for North Korea; he did it because he had some damn fool idea that the North Koreans would send him via Russia to the US – and he would thereby manage to get sent home and, as such, avoid dangerous assignments along the DMZ and a possible transfer to Vietnam. And, oh yeah – he was drunk at the time, so no doubt this seemed like a logical decision.

Jenkins writes about his “forty-year imprisonment” as though he suffered in the gulags alongside average North Koreans… whereas in truth, while his existence was far from Western upper-class comfort, it was princely by North Korean standards. All that being said, I still found the book fascinating. There are so few stories out there about day-to-day life in North Korea – and none such by any other Americans – that this book provides a wealth of insights unavailable anywhere else. I won’t go into the details; if this is something that interests you, read the book.

I will, however, point out a couple of rather mundane things that caught my eye:

The product-purchasing system that existed in the Former Soviet Union – and which still can be found in many stores (although decreasing in number) across the FSU – was apparently common in North Korea as well. This is how the “system” works: You tell Storekeeper A what you want to buy. S/he gives you a ticket, which you take to Storekeeper B. You pay Storekeeper B and are given a receipt. You take this receipt back to Storekeeper A, and are only then given the item. I hadn’t realized that this “system” was found in any countries other than the FSU, although it makes an odd kind of sense for it to exist in a Communist country. After all, everyone *must* be employed, so the more jobs available (even if they are needless), the better.

One thing which Jenkins mentioned as being “typically North Korean,” but which jumped out at me as being “typically Korean” came from an instance in which one of his friends (another American defector, Jerry Wayne Parrish) was dying of kidney failure. Parrish had been hospitalized numerous times for minor kidney troubles, and simply assumed this was another such minor event – the hospital released him, allowing him to continue believing this, but told his friends and family the truth: he was dying, and they thought it was best for him to remain unaware of this fact. I have heard numerous times here in South Korea that doctors will never (or rarely, depending on who you ask about this) tell a patient that s/he is terminal so as not to worry him/her. I find it rather reassuring that there are still cultural oddities which span the peninsula.

I know too much, and my horses are swift: a nice rambling post about vampires

As it’s Halloween season once again, I think it’s an appropriate time for a discussion revolving around a book I just finished re-reading for the umpteenth time: Dracula. My dad read this out loud to me as a kid, and when I was in the 6th grade, I remember reading it over and over until the cover fell off and pages fell out. It’s rare indeed that you can find a book that you love as much as a 12 year old as you do as an adult, yet for me Dracula is definitely one of the few.

Dracula was one of the many English language books left in the apartment that my cousin George inherited upon his arrival in Korea, and as he wasn’t interested in it (!!) I snapped it up.

Of course, you view any book, however beloved, differently when reading it as an adult, and I have to admit that I’ve been analyzing a tad too much. Let’s see what you think about my train of thought:

In Bram Stoker’s Dracula, the Count and other vampires are held off by crucifixes and communion wafers. Would talismans of other religions have had the same effect? Or had Count Dracula set off east from Transylvania instead of west, would his depredations have been allowed to continue unabated – at least until the arrival of some adequately equipped Catholic missionaries?

Moving on. Are any of you True Blood watchers? I only started watching the show shortly after returning to Korea – but as they show two episodes every Friday night, I’m already about six episodes into Season 2. (Don’t give me any spoilers!!) I recently watched the episode in which the following interaction takes place between Jason Stackhouse and other members of the Fellowship of the Sun:

Jason: I don't know who Lazarus was but he sure as hell wasn't the first vampire. Everybody knows it was Dracula.
Luke: It's in the Bible, moron. Jesus brought Lazarus back from the dead.
Jason: So Jesus made the first vampire? Maybe Jesus was the first vampire. I mean he rose from the dead too, and he told people "Hey y'all drink my blood. It'll give you special powers."
Luke: Jesus never said that.

And this segue, via the reference to communion, brings me back to Catholicism. I don’t know much of anything about Bram Stoker, other than that he was born in Ireland and that he wrote Dracula. I don’t know if he was a Catholic, Protestant, or an Atheist – although I would infer Catholic from his writings.

Now, England (unlike Ireland) is not a Catholic country, nor was it at the time Dracula was written – and surely I need not remind you of the long history of conflicts between the Catholic Irish and the Protestant English – but I do wonder if there might have been some evermore subtler message from Irish Bram Stoker to the general literate British public. After all, only those utilizing Roman Catholic talismans are able to triumph in the battle against evil.

There is only the briefest of hesitations with regard to the use of non-Anglican “idols” near the tale’s beginning:

She then rose and dried her eyes, and taking a crucifix from her neck offered it to me. I did not know what to do, for, as an English Churchman, I have been taught to regard such things as in some measure idolatrous, and yet it seemed so ungracious to refuse an old lady meaning so well and in such a state of mind. She saw, I suppose, the doubt in my face, for she put the rosary around my neck, and said, “For your mother’s sake,” and went out of the room. I am writing up this part of the diary while I am waiting for the coach, which is, of course, late; and the crucifix is still round my neck.

Following this tiny episode of doubt regarding non-Anglican “idols” (occurring on page 5 of the book, no less!) all the protagonists cling tightly to their crucifixes…

Food for thought.

I shall leave you with two humorous videos, from Sesame Street of all places – although if you’re not a True Blood fan, you probably won’t understand the first one. Enjoy!

So many enemies...

Towards the end of my sojourn in Kyrgyzstan last year, a new teacher arrived at the school where I had been working. Initially, we hit it off. When asked why she had decided to come to Kyrgyzstan, she told me that she had read a book entitled So Many Enemies, So Little Time by Elinor Burkett, which was the travel memoir of a journalism professor who moved to Kyrgyzstan to teach in 2001. She told me that this book had inspired her to look for a job in Kyrgyzstan herself. I had been planning to order a handful of books as a welcome back to the US present to myself, and I added Burkett’s tome to my list and went ahead and ordered it. Then this new teacher and I had what you might term a falling out. By the time I left the country and returned to the US, I greatly despised her. Additionally, in the interim this new teacher had read Saffia Farr’s Revolution Baby – a book which I loathed – and enjoyed it! As such, I had two different reasons to think that perhaps So Many Enemies wasn’t actually worth my time. I shoved it aside, read other books, and months flew by during which I didn’t give it so much as a passing thought. Then, one evening a couple of weeks ago, when I was rummaging through my bookshelves looking for something I hadn’t yet read, I stumbled upon it and decided to give it a shot.

It turned out to be pretty good. Unlike Farr, whose narrative was clouded so much by her utter dislike of Kyrgyzstan, and whose descriptive abilities were somewhat limited, Burkett presents an incredibly accurate and easy-to-picture view of what life in Kyrgyzstan is like. Granted, a lot of what life in Central Asia is like would indeed be viewed by most Westerners in a negative light; however, she presents it in an impartial manner which allows the reader to be the judge. Must be that journalistic training, you think? Burkett, like myself, was abroad during the events of September 11, 2001, and I found that her experiences of what life was like for an American overseas at that time were quite similar to my own. I also discovered that Kyrgyzstan has apparently not changed much at all since her time there (2001-2002) and my time there in 2008. In addition to describing her life and work in Kyrgyzstan, Burkett writes about her travels during that time to Iraq, Iran, Afghanistan, Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan. It was specifically interesting to read about her reception in and descriptions of pre-War on Terror Afghanistan and Iraq. I know people who have been to these countries much more recently than 2001-2002, and their more up-to-date descriptions of these places seem so very different from Burkett’s. Sadly, it would appear that things have gone very much downhill. I wish Burkett would return to these countries now and do a piece on the contrasts she would find.

Anyhow, the long and the short of it is, that despite my rather silly delay in tackling this book, it turned out to be pretty good, and should be very much on the to-read list of anyone with an interest in Central Asia.

Two books you should read, and one you shouldn't

Silk Road to Ruin by Ted Rall was recommended to me (I think...) by Amanda, and was recently shipped to me by my mother. Rall covers much of the same ground covered by Colin Thubron (whose books I reviewed here), but his style of writing couldn’t be more different. While I hate the phrases highbrow and lowbrow, I’ve got to admit they’re the best choices for comparing the authors’ different takes on presenting Central Asia. Thubron is definitely highbrow, while Rall totally writes for the masses. His writing is highly entertaining, and Ruin contains several formats: prose, photography and graphic novel. It certainly provides an accurate sense of life in Central Asia as seen by a tourist, and it’s most definitely not your typical tourism. I definitely recommend this book to anyone interested in what life is like over here. However, I feel I should take Rall’s editor to task. Not only were there two factual errors that I caught (the Russian Revolution was in 1917, not 1918, and it's called a balbal, not a bubble), but there were numerous typographical errors. Additionally, while I enjoyed most of Rall’s adventures and misadventures in Central Asia, his tale of bribing airport officials to kick passengers (who had already bought tickets) off the last airplane out of Osh to make room for his tour group to escape the military clashes with Uzbekistan which were happening in 2000 didn’t sit well with me at all. Nonetheless, I still class this book as a recommended read.

I often go to Fatboy’s in central Bishkek for the purpose of snagging books from their “library” – most of the books there aren’t exactly literary, but as I’m a big fan of escapist mysteries, I can usually stock up. The other week, however, I found a particularly good find: Sputnik Caledonia by Andrew Crumey. This is a totally bizarre work of modern fiction, a la Pynchon, written in a non-linear style from several different points of view, with a bit of a dystopian alternate reality thrown in. It’s set in Scotland, although it features cosmonauts and black holes, nuclear waste and secret government installations, and it was thoroughly engrossing and weird as hell. Definitely give it a read.

It’s really hard to find decent books on religion. When I was in Korea, I really wanted to learn more about Buddhism. I purchased a book called Buddhism for Beginners (which I reviewed here), which really should have been called “Buddhism for those who have been practicing for a short while already and know a good bit about the religion but want more info.” Sigh. I decided to try to learn more about Islam, so I purchased Islam: Religion, History and Civilization by Seyyed Hossein Nasr, as it received numerous excellent ratings and reviews on Amazon.com, but I just couldn’t get past the first chapter. Not only is the text filled with unexplained religious terminology, but it’s written in a thoroughly obtuse style. I mean, it’s full of sentences like, “Unity cannot manifest itself without entering into the world of multiplicity, yet this manifestation is the means whereby humanity is led from multiplicity to Unity.” Huh? Anybody have any recommendations for readable books on Islam?

Boobs in Bishkek

Okay, so this post isn’t actually about boobs or Bishkek, but I simply couldn’t resist the alliteration; this is actually a book review. One of the books Ben Jr brought with him to Kyrgyzstan was Revolution Baby, the story of Saffia Farr, the pregnant wife of a British government aid employee who moved to Kyrgyzstan when her husband was transferred here shortly before the 2005 “Tulip Revolution” [wikipedia]. After reading the book’s back cover, I was excited to delve into this book, although both Ben and Katy warned me that I wouldn’t like it. And for the most part, they were right.

See, Saffia Farr is VERY different from me and my friends, and her life – even when she was living here in Bishkek – is vastly different from my own. I had a tough time relating to her, or even to her version of life in Kyrgyzstan. She essentially spends the bulk of the book complaining about life in Bishkek, bitching about being unable to find a good place to get her legs waxed (!) and constantly reminding us that she has Really Big Boobs (she manages to do this twice in the forward alone). It takes her a good 18 or so months before she decides that she might actually like Kyrgyzstan after all. Maybe.

If you can’t tell from my writing, most of the book annoyed me to no end; I simply couldn’t relate to someone with her own personal driver and who brunches regularly at the Hyatt. However, I did find the final chapters – when the revolution finally happens – to be quite interesting. I remember when the revolution actually happened it received *very little* coverage in the West; I only knew about it because I regularly read blogs pertaining to Russia and the former Soviet Union. I remember wishing it had received more coverage. As such, it was definitely interesting to read her firsthand descriptions of what was going on at that time. But all in all, I wasn’t a big fan. Unless you have a particular interest in the Tulip Revolution, or unless you’re a ‘trailing spouse’ planning on making your way to Bishkek and hobnobbing with the bridge playing, soiree throwing, Hyatt brunching set, I’d give this book a pass.

Colin Thubron takes on Central Asia

I fell in love with Colin Thubron when I read In Siberia while living in Korea. He’s a travel writer who combines beautiful prose with a penchant for visiting obscure and exotic locales. He also holds a vast wealth of knowledge regarding the histories of his destinations, which he weaves in and out of his tales in a thoroughly engrossing manner. He travels without a camera (which frankly defies my comprehension) but his words are detailed enough to paint an intricate picture of all peoples and places in the reader’s mind. (Of course, Thubron is somewhat pretentious when it comes to his prose, and at times reading his works reminds one of studying for the verbal section of the GRE. I swear the man’s two favorite words are plangent and faience, and he uses them all the time. I don’t know about you, but I had to look those two up!) I brought two of Thubron’s books with me to Kyrgyzstan: The Lost Heart of Asia (published in 1994) and Shadow of the Silk Road which came out last year.

I read The Lost Heart of Asia first. In this book Thubron travels throughout Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan, Tajikistan, Kazakhstan and – of course – Kyrgyzstan. This was by far the most informative book on Central Asia that I have read so far, in addition to being entertaining and well penned. I was a little disappointed by the fact that he spent by far the most time in Uzbekistan, and by the fact that he came to Kyrgyzstan at the very end of his journey, when his enthusiasm for extended travel was obviously winding down. However, I highly recommend this book to those interested in what life is like here Central Asia and/or the history thereof. Also, the fact that Thubron spent so much time in Uzbekistan meant that he penned pages upon tantalizing pages, which have left me itching to go there next.

One of the few places Thubron visited while gathering material for this book was Burana Tower, which, as you may remember, I visited quite recently. Here is his description of the place:

In this solitude, close by the river, all that remained of the city of Balasagun was sinking into fields of horse-high grass. It had been founded in the tenth century by a wave of Karakhanid invaders, and had petered away with their empire.... It lay inscrutably in ruin. A rectangle of crushed ramparts traced itself in the grass, and a farmer was grazing his donkey among the thistles over a buried palace. Nearby rose the minaret of a vanished mosque. Earthquake had broken it in two, but the eighty foot stub, banded austerely in decorative brick, burgeoned from a huge octagonal plinth in a lonely manifestation of the city’s power.

For Shadow of the Silk Road, Thubron traveled the entire length of the former Silk Road between China and the West, and as such, two-thirds of the book focus on locales outside of Central Asia. Nonetheless, it too was thoroughly engrossing, and I highly recommend it. However, since the space of time which Thubron spent in Central Asia in this book was much less than the time spent in this region for The Lost Heart of Asia, it isn’t as detailed or informative. If you can only read one of the two and are looking for information specifically on Central Asia, I’d go with Lost Heart. But seriously, try to read them both.

Additionally, Shadow of the Silk Road provided an excellent description of “those turtle things” which I used to see all over Korea, but about which no one could provide a decent explanation. Apparently they can be found in China as well. In order to enlighten you, I’m going to copy his passage on the subject for you here:

Through the cold halls of the Confucian temple, 2,300 stone stelae rise in ranks higher than man. Sacred texts, imperial edicts, early poems: this imperishable library accumulated for a thousand years.... Some stand isolated on the backs of stone tortoises, symbols of longevity, topped by a twirl of dragons; others stretch in walls of black granite, eight feet high. Ancient classics – the Book of Rites, the Book of Odes, the Book of Changes – become avenues of stone you walk through.... I went in fascinated alienation, as if tramping between tombstones. The characters were filing up and down their stelae like worker ants. The word had become immortal, and dead. The tortoises groaned under their loads.

A book you must read. Now.

For my birthday, my Aunt Mary sent me a book entitled Three Cups of Tea: One man’s mission to promote peace… one school at a time. It’s the biography of Greg Mortensen, a former mountain climber turned philanthropist. His tale is phenomenal: he had traveled to Pakistan to climb K2, but like many mountaineers, was defeated by the mountain. On his descent, lost, sick, and disoriented, he wandered into a tiny village called Korphe. The villagers nursed him back to health and in exchange, he promised to return and build a school for the village, as it had none. Now, it’s not as though Mortensen was a rich man, someone who could easily afford to finance such an endeavor; in fact, it was quite the opposite. However, he persevered in his goal, and not only succeeded in building the school in Korphe, but he established the Central Asia Institute, which has built nearly 60 schools across the rural areas of Pakistan and Afghanistan, built libraries, trained and paid teachers, created women’s organizations, built water distribution and purification systems, in addition to numerous other projects outlined here.

The simple fact that one man intent on honoring his promise had the drive to achieve all this is simply incredible, and quite inspiring. However, that’s not the main reason why I say that you must read this book now. The book is fast-paced and entertaining, and a very quick read – yet that’s not why you should read it either. I think everyone (including those people who feel that all Muslims are trying to kill us) should read this book for a glimpse into the lives and characters of average people in Pakistan and Afghanistan. I promise what you will read will be much different from the average portrayal you see in the media these days. Yes, Mortensen was once kidnapped by Pakistani warlords. Yes, he had two fatwas declared against him. Yes, he was once nearly killed when caught in the crossfire between two bands of opium smugglers. But: he successfully worked with local leaders, both religious and secular, to establish schools which provided equal education to both boys and girls. He had religious Islamic leaders and Taliban representatives agreeing to allow him to build these schools, agreeing to allow the education of girls, agreeing to allow a secular curriculum to be taught at these schools. These people, so often demonized in our current culture, even went out of their way to help him reach his goals. He met and befriended numerous people who were so caring and wonderful…. and so peace-loving, and so dedicated to education.

The chapters which take place during and after September 2001 were unexpectedly powerful. Mortensen’s friends in a remote Pakistani village woke him up in the middle of the night with the news of the 9/11 attacks, saying over and over how sorry they were, cursing Osama bin Laden, whom they assumed immediately was behind the attack. Villagers, who had little to give, gave him eggs, insisting that he deliver them to the widows of the attack. These are not the images of Muslims that we normally see.

Mortensen discusses how the madrassas are able to recruit students into their schools in remote areas of central Asia very easily: these areas are incredibly poor. Many have no public schools, and most families cannot afford to send their children to expensive private schools. Meanwhile, wealthy wahabbi madrassas, funded usually by Saudi money, are able to pay for boys to attend – providing food, clothing, shelter and the promise of an education, albeit a religious one. Many of these madrassas serve as training grounds for jihadis. Students provided with the option of a free public school are less likely to enter into a madrassa. And certainly the students at the CAIs schools speak very highly of Americans!

One of the most depressing tales in this book was that when Mortensen’s work finally began to receive media coverage here in the US, he began to receive death threats from fundamentalist Christians – no doubt the type who believe that Muslims are the people who are trying to kill us.

I know this review is scattered all over the place. There’s so much in this book, and my simple attempt at summary hardly does it justice. Go buy the book and read it. Then give it to a friend. Education is the key.

Weird? Yes. Quality? No.

I just skimmed Weird Georgia by Jim Miles, and am not left with much of a desire to examine the book any closer. I was hoping for somewhat of a guidebook (a la Lonely Planet), but with a focus on the more bizarre things which can be found in my newly adopted state. While I did realize that this book would have sections on ghosts and aliens, I hoped they would take a back seat to factual descriptions of weird places and attractions. Additionally, take a look at the back cover - there's one sentence there in particular which made this book irresistable to me:

Can you guess which one? :-)

Sadly, the book has been quite a disappointment. I could probably put a lot of time and thought into explaining why, but the book really isn't worth expending the energy. I'm tempted to try again with a completely different Weird Georgia, but I'd rather not waste my money. As my mom pointed out, I'll probably do a better job of documenting the weirdness of Georgia right here on my blog. Why read about it when I can experience it?

Highly recommended readings!!

I first discovered Eliot Pattison when I was living in Vladimir, Russia. The school where I taught had a very large library of English language books of all varieties, and I utilized it a lot. There was a book entitled The Skull Mantra which stared at me for months from the shelves before I so much as bothered to read the back cover. I know you should never judge a book by its cover (or title), but I simply didn’t think that a book with such a name would be worth much. It was after I had worked my way through nearly all of the cheesy mysteries owned by the American Home and found myself running out of options for mindless entertainment that I finally picked it up – and I’m most definitely glad I did. Here’s a reprint of the short review I wrote of The Skull Mantra at the time:

For those of you who enjoy reading mysteries and/or for those of you who are interested in Tibet, I have a book recommendation for you. As you may or may not know, I've been slowly working my way through the rather large collection of paperback mysteries in the AH library. There's one that's been sitting there for a while that I'd been ignoring due to its horribly cheezy title. I finally picked it up the other day and read the back of the book and decided to give it a try. The book is The Skull Mantra by Eliot Pattison. It's too bad that it has such a cheezy name (although after reading it, I discovered that there's a legitimate reason for this absurd title) because the book is fabulous. Not only is it a well written and engaging mystery, but it gives a clear and fascinating look into life in Tibet, life in the Tibetan prison systems, and Tibetan Buddhism. Now granted, I know remarkably little about Tibet or Tibetan Buddhism, so I have no way of knowing whether or not Pattison's depictions are accurate; however, while reading it I felt such a strong sense of place - so beautiful and magical - that I now find myself wanting to learn more about both Tibet and Tibetan Buddhism. The description on the back of the book says that it "will change the way you think about Tibet - and freedom - forever." I read that and thought what a crock of shit... but whaddyaknow. You should all definitely check it out.

The Skull Mantra was the first book in what has become quite a fascinating series. Luckily for me, the next two in the series were at my mom’s house when I returned from Korea. I just finished reading Water Touching Stone and Bone Mountain, the next two books, and am looking forward to reading Beautiful Ghosts (and the forthcoming Prayer of the Dragon, which will be out in December). These books are beautiful and wholly engaging; I could hardly put the one down, and immediately picked up the second as soon as I had finished the first. I feel that I have learned so much about Tibet through reading these books, and I almost want to go there. I say almost for two reasons: The books have shown me that if I wanted to see *real* Tibetan Buddhism, I’d have to either break the law and sneak around with alleged reactionaries, or I’d simply need to go to northern India. Otherwise I’d be exposed to Beijing’s pre-approved version of Tibetan Buddhism, which doesn’t appeal to me whatsoever. Also, if I went to Tibet, I’d probably die; altitude sickness sounds like utter hell, and a horridly miserable way to die. So, since I’m not going to pack up and head for Tibet, I’m going to have to continue reading Eliot Pattison’s books! Whether you’re the sort of person who enjoys exciting escapist mysteries, or the sort who enjoys books with literary/historical/cultural/etc merit, Pattison's works will most definitely have something that will appeal to you.

Running With Reindeer

I didn't go to my Korean class today. I'd developed an unpleasant head-cold on Friday, but nonetheless was planning on kicking my ass into gear and getting down to the YMCA by 11am this morning. Then morning arrived, and I was awakened before my alarm by one thunderclap after another, shaking my doors and windows and sending the cat scuttling for cover. So I did exactly what you'd expect me to do: I unplugged all my electronics, then crawled back under the covers. I've been under the covers most of the day, alternating between reading, sleeping and listening to podcasts. Starting to feel better, although now I'm going to be even more behind in my Korean studies.

I finished reading an absolutely fantastic book today, Running With Reindeer: Encounters In Russian Lapland by Roger Took. For starters, this fellow must be completely insane. Who the hell frequently tresspasses into closed military zones in Russia - sometimes for the purpose of viewing the wildlife and wilderness, other times for the purpose of viewing closed military and nuclear facilities? Roger Took, that's who. I’m certainly glad that he did, as it allowed for the creation of the fabulous book that is Running With Reindeer… but seriously, the man’s got to be a tad nutty. I’ve done my share of crazy things in Russia (I may have even done a bit of trespassing on occasion, being my mother’s daughter and all), but did I ever sneak into any closed military zones? No. However, I suppose whether or not Took’s actions have a bearing on his sanity doesn’t really affect the outcome here, which was his creation of a stellar book.

Running With Reindeer chronicles Took’s adventures in the Kola Peninsula, a frigid bit of land in the northwest corner of Russia, over the course of a decade. Since Russia’s such a ginormous country, here are some maps to help you orient yourself:

See the peninsula in the center of the circle? That's Kola.


Kola close-up

I must admit that despite my rather extensive knowledge of Russia, I knew nothing about the Kola Peninsula except that it was where the city of Murmansk was located. All I knew about Murmansk was that during my first Russian winter back in 2000, I had the opportunity to go to Murmansk for the weekend. I passed it up, thinking that I really didn’t want to spend 27 hours on a train to end up somewhere even colder than where I started. After reading this book, I’m wishing I’d gone and at least seen a tiny part of Kola.

Running With Reindeer chronicles Took’s many travels around the Kola peninsula, as he interacts with the remnants of the native Saami (Lapp) and Komi tribes. Took addresses in detail their force relocation during collectivization, and the impact it had on their formerly nomadic lives. He traces the influx and impact of ethnic-Russian settlers in Tsarist and Soviet times – and the effects of their post-Soviet exodus from Kola. He examines the Allied invasion of Russia at the end of WWI (this chapter is actually one of best accounts of this occurrence that I have read; most historians have a tendency to gloss over this for some reason). Took addresses the enormous problem of pollution in the once pristine Kola Peninsula and its impact on the neighboring countries of Finland and Norway. He also spends a significant amount of time discussing the environmental and geopolitical impact of the decay of Russia’s Northern (nuclear) Fleet. Apparently, the Kola Peninsula is full of nuclear products and biproducts just ripe for the taking – which is quite distressing given the current fears over what would happen should nuclear materials fall into the wrong hands.

All in all, this book was fabulous. It provided an excellent glimpse into the lives and histories of the people of the Kola Peninsula, and I wholeheartedly recommend it to anyone with an interest in Russia. My only complaint with the book was that I wish there had been more photographs!

PS – Mom, thanks for the book!
PPS - Linda, I just started Smoke and Mirrors and am thoroughly enjoying it :-)

Neither a Buddhist nor a Nudist

My friend Chris is fond of saying, “In the winter I’m a Buddhist, in the summer I’m a nudist.” Not sure where he picked that up, but it’s pretty catchy, and I must admit, that phrase was running through my head the entire time I was trudging my way through Thubten Chodron’s Buddhism for Beginners. The book is only 150 pages long, so I really should have finished it in an afternoon. Instead, I found myself distracted at every turn by other books that were simply far more interesting. Now that I’ve finished it, I suppose I should go ahead and tell you my thoughts.

First let me start by addressing the book as a *book* - setting religion aside for the moment. The work is entitled Buddhism for Beginners, and as such, I was hoping to find a work which would present Buddhism to me, a person wholly ignorant on the topic, in a logical way. The book sort of accomplished this, albeit not in the sort of format I had hoped for. Chodron compiled a list of commonly asked questions pertaining to Buddhism, and organized them into chapters by topic. (Ex: Meditation, Dharma in the Daily Life, Buddhism and Social Activism, etc.) This may sound all well and good until one considers that in order to *ask* the majority of these questions, one must already have some knowledge of Buddhism. Take the third question in the book: What are the Three Jewels? How do we relate to them? The Three Jewels had yet to be mentioned in the book, and as such I was pretty thrown off. Hell, Siddartha (the historical Buddha) hadn’t even been mentioned by that point! Even after reading the answer to the Three Jewels question, it was difficult for me to place the Three Jewels into a mental image of Buddhist worship/life.

While I found the book informative, it really wasn’t what I had hoped for. I guess I had been hoping for something that would start with the life of Siddartha, and move into his beliefs and practices, followed by the evolution of Buddhist practices and faith in the 2500 years since his death. In short, I probably should have purchased Buddhism: A History. (I don’t suppose any of you have read that?)

Now, putting the book review aside, let me share what I think about Buddhism as a religion after completing Buddhism for Beginners. I guess my main problem with Buddhism as a religion is the same essential problem I have with all other religions: I simply don’t believe in it. When it comes to things such as omniscient beings and infinite rebirths and the like, I simply lack the capacity for belief. As Rachel Weisz’s character in The Mummy says, I believe if I can see it, and I can touch it, then it's real. That's what I believe. Certainly there are a lot of aspects of modern Buddhist morality which are appealing – but there are aspects of Christian morality which are appealing too, and I’m obviously no Christian.

Also, I would just like to add that every time I hear the phrase “Three Jewels” I think Silmarils. Truly.

Meme me!

Brooke, the fearless moose photographer extraordinaire, has memed me. So here goes:

1. One book that changed your life: Mama Day by Gloria Naylor

2. One book you have read more than once: Are you kidding me? I am a serious re-reader, so pretty much if I liked it, I'll read it more than once. Especially if I'm overseas where reading materials are few and far between. So, um, any.

3. One book you would want on a desert island: The Silmarillion by JRR Tolkien

4. One book that made you laugh: Life With Jeeves by P.G. Wodehouse

5. One book that made you cry: Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte

6. One book you wish had been written: The WD40 Story. That's the book I'm "writing" although I don't think one can use present continuous for something one hasn't worked on in over a year.

7. One book you wish had never been written: The Book of Revelations.

8. One book you are currently reading: Running With Reindeer: Encounters in Russian Lapland by Roger Took

9. One book you have been meaning to read: Gravity's Rainbow by Thomas Pynchon. It's been sitting on my shelf since September.

10. This is the part where I'm supposed to tag five people.... but, um.... how about I tag all of you cats? Consider yourself tagged!

Odd Girl Out

Today, on my day off from work in celebration of Independence Movement Day, I have to admit that I've spent most of the day curled up with a book. I’m currently reading Odd Girl Out: The Hidden Culture of Aggression in Girls by Rachel Simmons, which I honestly think everyone should read – especially parents of girls. It’s about the ways in which girls deal with anger and aggression, as opposed to the ways in which boys do. The premise is that boys tend to be more direct in their aggression - physical confrontation - while in contrast, girls use an indirect approach known as relational aggression. Wikipedia's definition of relational aggression is a form of aggression where the group is used as a weapon to assault others and others' relationships. It uses lies, secrets, betrayals and a host of other two-faced tactics to destroy or damage the relationships and social standing of others in the group. [wikipedia article] To be honest, reading this book has brought up a lot of memories. The following is the most vivid.

When I was little, I was an incredibly outgoing kid. I would talk to just about anybody, anywhere. I didn’t worry about making friends; it was just something that happened as I went along. I was very outspoken, too.

That all changed in the third grade. Even though I’m now 28 years old, my third grade year still ranks as one of the worst in my life. Third grade actually started off quite well. T. and H., girls who had been two of my best friends for several years, were in my class. There were also other girls in my class whom I easily befriended. One of these girls was K.

K was a year older than the rest of us; her mother had requested that she be held back, that she repeat the third grade, because she didn’t feel her daughter was mature enough to enter the fourth grade. If only her mother hadn’t made that decision, I probably would have turned out to be a very different person. At the beginning of the year, K became friends with H., T. and me. My birthday was in September, and that year I had my first ever birthday party. I invited six girls, and K. was one of them. We all had a great time.

One day in early October, during recess, as I was approaching T. and K., I heard them talking; they didn’t notice me behind them. K. was asking T. to play with her that day, and specifically asking her *not* to play with H., and T. agreed. I didn’t say anything to them; instead, I went and found H., and repeated the story to her. We concocted a plan to have T. and K. overhear H. asking me not to play with K. We put our plan into action, and that act of retribution was how one of the worst periods of my life began.

Immediately, K. began turning the rest of the class against us. She made up stories about us, told lies to other students about us, and once even told lies about me to my mother (who was a classroom volunteer). Instead of playing K’s game and trying to turn others against her, we simply defended ourselves; yet her campaign of hate was successful. Within a week, my third grade experience had gone from being great to being hell. Additionally, H. and I were enrolled in our school’s Gifted program. This meant that once a week she and I went to a special Gifted class, instead of to regular class with everyone else. For this, K. denounced us as nerds, and said that because we were “Gifted”, we thought we were better than everybody else. In addition to being nerds, she claimed that we were weird, strange, and not the sort of person one should be friends with. Suddenly no one in my class liked me and H. People whom I had liked now refused to talk to me – or if they did talk to me, it was only to call me names or to threaten me. Then, to make matters worse, I got glasses. I certainly need glasses – and I needed them back then – but nothing gives third graders ammunition like glasses. I was taunted relentlessly, and called Four Eyes more times than I could count. I had my glasses snatched off my face during recess. I had them held over my head, just out of reach (I have always been short).

I don’t know if my third grade teacher knew what was going on or not. One thing was certain: K. was one of my teacher’s favorites. K. had been in that class during her first time through third grade. As I mentioned above, she hadn’t failed the third grade; in fact, her grades had been quite decent. As such, she didn’t need to learn the third grade curriculum. Instead, the teacher drafted her to be somewhat of a teacher’s aide, a classroom watchman, and all about helper. Several times I was lectured by my teacher for various actions (both real and imaginary) reported to my teacher by K. The few attempts I made to convince the teacher that K was the one causing problems were met by disbelief and/or the advice of “Don’t be a tattle-tale.”

I had started the third grade outgoing, friendly, willing to strike up a conversation with anybody, and always willing to speak my mind. By the end of the year I was quiet, introverted, speaking only to my closest friends, and often only when spoken to.

I’m 28 now; the events that happened above occurred nineteen years ago, and yet I still think about them periodically. I wonder what my life would have been like had K gone into the fourth grade that year. Or if H. and I hadn’t gone through our retaliatory charade. Or if my teacher had done something to stop K’s behavior. Would I have continued to be gregariously outgoing all through my school years? Would I have lived my life differently? Would I still have become the socially anxious oddball that I am now?

Four Substantially Less Controversial Book Reviews

My last book review was of Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged. This post is going to be substantially less controversial. For Christmas, my Aunt Mary gave me a gift certificate to Amazon.com (thank you, thank you!) and I was able to purchase a nice little stack of books to keep me occupied for a while. Four of the books I purchased were mysteries from two different series which I enjoy.

The first two books are The Game and Locked Rooms by Laurie King. These books are the final two (at this point anyway) in King’s series featuring Mary Russell, the young wife of Sherlock Holmes. I’ve been a fan of everything Sherlock Holmes for as long as I can remember, and I absolutely adore successful adaptations of the tale. King’s Holmes is as similar to Doyle’s original creation as if he were penned by Doyle himself… and if Doyle’s Holmes were to marry a Jewish feminist less than half his age, he would surely have married none less than Mary Russell. The books are intelligent, well written, captivating, and quite addictive. I thoroughly enjoyed the final two as much as I enjoyed the previous six, and I very much hope that King will continue to produce this series. I highly recommend this series to anyone who loves a good mystery. I would also recommend starting at the beginning with the first book in the series, The Beekeeper’s Apprentice (which I actually read on my second trip to Korea back in 2004), and reading the series in order. While each book stands alone and does not require knowledge of the previous books to be enjoyed, I recommend reading them in order, if simply to witness the evolution of the relationship between Holmes and Russell.

Sometimes I stumble across literary characters whom I feel would become great friends, if only they could leave the confines of their books to mingle with one another. Two such characters, whom I feel would become the best of friends are Mary Russell and Fremont Jones from Dianne Day’s Fremont Jones series. The latter two books which I just finished, Emperor Norton’s Ghost and Death Train to Boston both feature the ever-awesome Fremont Jones. I first discovered Fremont last winter when I was home for the winter holidays and found a copy of The Strange Files of Fremont Jones, the first book in this series, in my mom’s house. I have now read five of the six books in this series. Fremont Jones resides in early twentieth century San Francisco (the great quake of 1906 occurs in the second book of the series). The final Mary Russell book brings Russell and Holmes to San Francisco, albeit approximately twenty years later than the setting of the Fremont Jones stories. However, having Russell in the domain of Fremont (so to speak), vastly increased my feeling that if only they were to meet, a great friendship would transpire. But alas, that’s not what happened. Instead, I was somewhat disappointed. While King’s books were solid, both of Day’s were quite the opposite.

Emperor Norton’s Ghost was actually well written and quite entertaining… all the way up to the final chapter, which wrapped everything up quite rapidly and rather weakly, and with what appeared to be a giant leap of intuition on the part of Fremont. To me, a good mystery story is littered with clues which can help a savvy reader to solve said mystery. The skill of a mystery writer lies in the peppering of the story with these clues without allowing the reader to determine whodunit before the denouement. (As a totally unrelated aside, my spell-check just automatically replaced whodunnit with whodunit. Hmmm. Spell-check now replaces nonexistent words with other nonexistent words.) The one clue discovered by Fremont which connects the victims to the killer is tenuous at best, and the denouement is, well, rather vague and hasty, quite a disappointment, given how great the rest of the book was.

Death Train to Boston was a disappointment for a variety of reasons. Let’s start with the name. Death Train to Boston? That’s just a horrible title. But in the interest of not judging a book by its cover (or its name) let’s delve a little deeper. The previous four Fremont Jones stories were mysteries, Death Train to Boston is also marketed as a mystery, but the thing is, it’s not. Granted, there is a mystery involved, but the mystery takes a minor second-stage to the main tale, which is more of an action/drama than anything else. The thing is, I quite enjoyed the little misadventure that Fremont got herself into, as well as the adventures that her partner (the Watson to her Holmes) Michael Kossoff and her friend Meiling Li have while searching for her… but those things would have made an awesome backdrop to a mystery. Instead, they all but supplant the weak little mystery which somewhat lurks in the background of the tale until the very end… when it rears its weak little head in order to be rapidly squashed by Fremont, Michael and Meiling. And to make matters worse, the villain turns out to be one of the bad guys from The Bohemian Murders, not even someone original. (This also meant that I had to dig out my copy of The Bohemian Murders in order to remind myself who this guy was...) I definitely felt let down. There’s still one more book in this series which I have not yet read, and I will read it at some point. I’ve grown quite attached to Fremont and Michael, and am quite interested in what happens next in their lives, although after reading these two, I’m not as excited about reading the final installment as I once was. I highly recommend the first two books in this series, The Strange Files of Fremont Jones and Fire and Fog. As to the rest, they’re enjoyable, but after the quality of the initial books in the series, you’re bound to be disappointed.

PS - Thank you again to my Aunt Mary, who made all of this possible. I still have one more book from my Christmas purchases to go - Buddhism for Beginners by Thubten Chodron. I'll let you guys know what I think once I've finished it. For now let's just say that reading a text on Buddhism hard on the heels of Atlas Shrugged is tough on the brain cells.

In which I disagree with my buddy Chris

My friend Chris was one of the people who commented on my previous post concerning Ayn Rand. I spent a good portion of my time at work today discussing Chris's comment with Gwen, and after mulling it over with her for a while, I decided to respond to it in its own post. Because I know half of you won't bother to search up his comment on your own, so I've copied it for you below:

I am perfectly fine with people living on charity. If buisnesses refuse to pay adequate wages while benifiting from tax breaks and a regressive tax system, while the majority of new improvements and developments come from sales taxes which are hardest on the poorest of Americans, I am perfectly fine with people living on charity. As Melissa would say, why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free. Why work for a company that cares nothing for you and pays you subsistence standard wages, when you can more than subsist on welfare, become a sofa Diva, and get a check sent to you every month. Hell enjoy sex in what ever fashion you want, pop out a few kids, and let the good times roll. I know that sounds a little socalist of me, but haveing seen the social fabric in France and participated within their family unit, its incredible to say the least. In Claire family, we eat every meal together, the parents have time to spend with their children and do, and there seems to be very few social anxiety disorders. I am all about time over money, and if charities or the government can help you achieve that form of lifestyle through higher taxes then I am all for it. Of course, I also believe that it can stifle productivity and drive, and if there is only one truth in this world, French people do not like to work. Well, Claire is a little different, but her buisness is a little different. With that said, French people travel a great deal on their pittance of wages which is more than I can say for Americans. Oh well, there is more to read. And yes, Jane, I do not belueve that Rand would care for your lifestyle, but at least you are following what makes you happy. I used to share an office with a guy who loved both Ayn Rand and Thomas Jefferson and had pictures of both of them posted all over the walls, it was a misserable experience to say the least. Oh well, hope that everything is allright. Christopher.

Oh my. Chris, I'm definitely going to have to disagree with you here. You know that I very much value time over money; however, I don't expect anyone - not my parents, not you, not the US government - to be responsible for funding my free time. I am planning to be unemployed from August 2007 through roughly January 2008, and I will fund this fantastic stretch of free time with money saved from my current salary. I cannot imagine deciding to take six months off from working, simply expecting that someone (or some government entity) would support me.

Certainly there are plenty of cases where individuals merit receiving support in lieu of earning an income via employment; however, simply *wanting* to be provided for should never qualify a person for aid.

What if the masses really were to follow your advice? What if everyone were to cease working and instead spend their days waiting for that government check to arrive? Were that to occur, not only would the government lack the funds to support this massive welfare state (or the people to administer it!), but there would be no domestically produced goods whatsoever. I mean, how could there be, if no people were working? Even if the government resorted to printing plenty of money to distribute to the masses, such currency would be incredibly devalued; it would be devalued to such an extent that it would be useless in international trade. Your state would collapse and your people would starve.

Of course, that is an extreme example; there is no way that the entire population of the United States would simply decide to stop working and seek welfare benefits.

Like I said above, there are certainly cases where people merit government and/or charity support. However, with the exception of those disabled to the extent that self-sufficiency is impossible, I do not believe that any welfare should be long-term or permanent. I personaly believe that the US welfare system needs a major overhaul in order to prevent capable individuals from becoming, as Chris put it, a sofa diva, sitting on the couch, living off the government dime.

As to whether or not Ayn Rand would approve of my lifestyle... well, some of her main tenets, as presented in We The Living, The Fountainhead and Atlas Shrugged are as follows:

~Don't live your life pandering to the expectations of others

~Don't sacrifice your beliefs or morals for either money or social standing

~Be self sufficient

Hmmmm....

Atlas Shrugged

This month I’ve been reading Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged. It was definitely a daunting task; not only is the book 1074 pages long, but I swear it was printed in size 8 font. I’ve been squinting my way through the thing for the past few weeks, and I finally succeeded in finishing it late last night. I had previously read, enjoyed and reviewed two other of Rand’s books: We The Living (review) and The Fountainhead (review). The discussions I had with my coworkers and the comments that appeared in my blog following my review of The Fountainhead prompted me to read Atlas Shrugged. Of course, I was able to read The Fountainhead while in Russia because we had it in the library at my school. Not having access to Atlas Shrugged at the time, I decided that it would be one of the books filling the huge box of reading materials I shipped to Korea. I must admit that I picked it up several times… only to put it down and select something lighter (both physically and conceptually; this isn’t one of those books that you can hold with one hand).

I finally kicked myself into gear and began reading Atlas Shrugged a few weeks ago. I admit that it was difficult to get into at first. The first two-hundred pages of the book are *very* similar to The Fountainhead. True, the characters had different names and worked in different industries, but I found very little difference. I considered putting it down; why should I squint my way through over 1000 pages of size 8 font if it’s the same story told with different characters? Luckily, it didn’t quite turn out that way. Around two hundred pages in, the book finally began to evolve past the themes presented in The Fountainhead, and actually got quite interesting, and stayed that way until its conclusion (well, except for Galt’s speech, which I felt really could have been substantially shorter). As with my little post on The Fountainhead, I’m not going to give you an in-depth analysis or blow-by blow account of the book; there are plenty of those out there for you to read if you’re interested. Or you could simply read the book for yourself.

I don’t agree with everything that Rand says, but over the course of reading her works, I have found that I agree with a lot that she has to say. I have been told that Ayn Rand would not support my hermit lifestyle because I am not being a productive capitalist. I do rather beg to differ. Look at the oath which the protagonists must take when they join with John Galt:

“I swear – by my life and my love of it – that I will never live for the sake of another man, nor ask any other to live for mine.”

The heart of my personal philosophy has a lot to do with living my life the way *I* choose, the way I want, and supporting myself, instead of doing the sorts of things that are expected of me and living my life the way most Americans do – shackled to insurmountable debts.

To my good friend (he knows who he is) who believes that leading an altruistic life is the only way to be happy, and who told me that if I read Atlas Shrugged, I would cease to agree with Rand and start to agree with him… Well, I don’t.

I definitely enjoyed this book, even though I wish that Rand could have shortened it by a couple hundred pages. Like I stated above, I don’t agree with everything that Rand has to say. For instance, I do believe in the existence of nonprofit and charity organizations; however, I also feel that very few people have the right to subsist solely on charity. Also, I find Rand’s portrayal of sex (in all of her books) to be disturbingly violent. I agree with her that sex should be celebrated – and that a person should only engage in sexual acts with those who hold the same values he or she possesses. But why do her descriptions of sex often border on rape? That disturbs me. But other than that… I found myself nodding in agreement throughout most of the book. So go get yourself a copy and let me know what you think.

Neverwhere

Back in 2000, I spent seven months living, studying, and interning in St. Petersburg, Russia. It was my junior year as a student at Sewanee: The University of the South – a great school, but unrelentingly pretentious, and stifling in many ways. I’d needed to get out, figure some things out about myself, recover from a broken heart, and master the Russian language. Not sure that I was entirely successful at any of those endeavors, although those seven months were wonderful.

St. Petersburg has a remarkable subway system – on average, the deepest in the world – serving not only as an efficient means of transportation but as a monument to the glory of the former Soviet Union. Oh, and as potential bomb shelters, should the need arise. One enters the St. Petersburg Metro via incredibly fast and deep escalators, which whisk passengers into the bowels of the city. At the base of the escalators, one crosses a metal strip, about a foot in width, which extends across the entire entryway, and is mirrored by a similar strip on the roof above. I was once told that in the event of nuclear war, a gate would burst free of these metal constraints and slam shut, sealing the lucky ones in safety below the city. Not sure if this is actually true, although I like to believe that it is.

One day, while riding the metro, I found myself staring not at those around me (or blankly off into space or what have you), but staring out the window. This, of course, poses one of those inane questions along the lines of Why do 7-11s have locks on their doors, if they’re open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year? So yeah. Why *are* there windows on trains which barrel through dark, underground tunnels? But I digress. There I was, staring out the window, not expecting to see anything other than dark tunnel wall, when I caught a glimpse of something else: another tunnel, complete with train tracks, branching off the main line. I kept watching (I had a long metro ride ahead of me, not much else to do) and discovered more tunnels – some with tracks, others without – and numerous doors. I found it fascinating.

From that point on, whenever I rode the metro, I did my best to get in a spot where I could look out and observe the secret world below St. Petersburg. I became a little obsessed with it. I started making notes of what I saw and where, and began sketching my observations onto a metro map.

I was particularly fascinated by the idea of what life would be like underground for those sealed into the metro system, should nuclear war decimate the world above. What would life be like in this vast, underground city? I started writing a post-apocalyptic novel based on such a notion. I didn’t get very far, as I was more obsessed with drawing maps of my underground world than with writing about it.

I returned to the US in August 2000, and had my upper wisdom teeth pulled. I spent several days on my mom’s couch, doped up on darvocet and watching pledge week on PBS. At some point, I surfaced from a darvocet and pain induced haze to discover that I was halfway through some incredibly bizarre British drama, set in an alternate reality – one which was located in, on, and around the London Underground. I watched, entranced. I was probably drooling, although in that case, let's blame it on the tooth-extraction. The show was something I could so easily transplant my fantasies about the underside of St. Petersburg onto that later, once the darvocet had cleared my system, I wondered if I’d really seen it.

Jump forward six years. Here I am in South Korea, in desperate need of books in English. While perusing the ‘things for sale/trade’ section of Dave’s Café, I discovered someone selling books by Thomas Pynchon and Neil Gaiman. Score! At that point, all I knew of Neil Gaiman was that he’d written those wonderful Sandman graphic novels; I didn’t know he dealt in regular novels as well. I bought.

Imagine my incredible pleasure and surprise when I began reading Gaiman’s Neverwhere, only to discover that it was the book-version of the bizarre British drama I’d seen while high on darvocet with my head swollen up like a chipmunk.

The book was wonderful. I don’t want to give anything away. Just read it. Now. Then go hop on your nearest subway and look out the window.