If Books Could Talk

A bit ago I wrote about libraries as they've impacted my life through the years, and gave you a sneak peek at Alberto Manguel's new book The Library at Night. I reviewed it for two publications, and one review appeared yesterday in the Miami Herald.

See the full text of the review below, and see it online here.

BY CHRISTINE THOMAS

THE LIBRARY AT NIGHT.
Alberto Manguel, Yale. 373 pages. $27.50.

Published April 27, 2008 in the Miami Herald

Alberto Manguel's new book is a vivaciously erudite justification for society's inexorable efforts to collect, order and store information. Inspired by the library he built in his French home, he explores the myriad levels on which a library functions and how readers interact with and in them.

The book is divided into 15 categories, each chapter exploring the library in a different light -- as myth, survival, power, etc. Manguel revisits childhood bookshelves as well as libraries in ancient Egypt, Greece, Arab countries (including the legendary Library of Alexandria) and the personal book collections of Charles Dickens and Manguel's fellow Argentine Jorge Luis Borges (himself a librarian). The route is above all determined by Manguel's extensive knowledge and experience.

And there seems to be no one more qualified than the renowned anthologist, translator, essayist, novelist, editor and author of A History of Reading, to act as guide on this engrossing tour, digging through evidence of libraries' existences, fates and importance from our earliest history to concrete and theoretical intersections with contemporary life. Manguel is comfortably present throughout by way of candid opinions and often humorous observations, particularly in descriptions of the minutia of a reading life: ''Immensely generous, my books make no demands on me but offer all kind of illuminations -- [they] know infinitely more than I do, and I'm grateful that they even tolerate my presence.'' Illustrations and photos are consistently placed throughout the book, rounding out the journey and imparting a sense that we're accompanying Manguel to the libraries about which he writes.

Such structured yet fluid sections provide ample opportunity to present an extensive swath of information, and Manguel incorporates so much it's impossible to mention every significant connection (Dewey, Hitler's library, Google's book project, warnings of technology's failings). Superb transitions link each division, and standout passages abound, including one exploration of reading as survival and the struggle to preserve freedom of thought and expression. Another fine note is the reminder that the Anglo-American army simply watched as Baghdad's National Archives, Archaeological Museum and National Library were looted in April 2003.

But this wealth of research and reflection means that while some chapters, such as ''Library as Shape'', seem solid, full and contained, others, such as ''Library as Chance'' read like a catchall for extraneous detail. ''Library as Island'' appears tangential and disconnected, roving from the Bible to the Web to bookmobile ungulates and back. Other chapters are more effectively populated with many small stories and examples throughout time and across countries, while another entry, ''Library as Mind,'' is compelling and convincing by centering solely on Aby Warburg's personal history and maddeningly unique library organization.

Unfailingly, Manguel's book underscores the viability and sustainability of reading, writing and ideas and the sheer impracticality of dismissing books and libraries as obsolete relics. Book lovers will luxuriate in these earnest and impressively researched pages.

Before O`ahu Disappears

Back from a recent mainland visit, I found on my desk a copy of Disappearing Destinations: 37 Places in Peril and What Can Be Done to Help Save Them, a new book out from Vintage, by Kimberly Lisagor and Heather Hansen, two journalists, travelers and environmentalists (so says the jacket).

Among the discussed fragile places that may vanish without attention are the Florida Everglades, California's Napa Valley, Tanzania's Mount Kilimanjaro, and our own O`ahu, Hawai`i. Surprised? Development and an arguable preference given to landowners instead of environment has led to seawalls that encourage disappearing beaches, as well as vanishing sand dunes. The small chapter focuses mainly on Kailua Bay, and how it might be possible to save it from Lanikai's fate.

I thought this an unusual choice given that many other places on O`ahu (the North Shore comes to mind) might well be on the verge of 'disappearing', but, overall the book seems an important documentation of the large-scale changes occurring in the world, which aren't too late to alter with courageous investment and preparation for climate change to prevent further losses.

WIMR: Aulani Wilhelm | NOAA

The Northwest Hawaiian Islands Papahanaumokuakea Marine National Monument was proclaimed by a landmark presidential decree on June 15, 2006. Superindendent 'Aulani Wilhelm spoke with me almost a year later (during her maternity leave) about what she's reading and why preserving nature is important. I've included the full interview below, not previously published.

What I’m Reading | ‘Aulani Wilhelm
NOAA Superintendent, Northwest Hawaiian Islands Monument

Q&A with Christine Thomas
May 2007

-What are you reading?

I don’t know if this is weird but I’m reading three different books at once. I’m a nonfiction reader typically, and I guess because of my work I usually read conservation-related books. But now that I’m on maternity mom time I find myself moving toward that. One book I’m reading is “Raising Cain” by Dan Kindlon and Michael Thompson, and it’s about protecting the emotional life of boys. I have two boys now, and I find myself, especially watching my toddler grow up, I really need to understand boys and what it takes to raise them and what are they facing now as little boys in our society. This book was recommended by a colleague of mine in California who is also raising a boy, and is by two PhD psychologists. It basically talks about how in our society and lots of societies boys are raised to be stoic and think they’re not supposed to feel. It’s not a how-to book on how to raise your boys, but how to understand. I think boys have the added pressure of having this tough guy image. I want my boys to grow up to be sensitive toward other boys and other girls—to be empathetic.

The other book that I’m reading is called “The Mommy Brain: How Motherhood Makes Us Smarter” by Katherine Ellison. Two things turned me on to this book. She’s a co-author of a book I loved called “The New Economy of Nature: The Quest To Make Conservation Profitable” that she co wrote with Gretchen Daily. It’s about how nature can drive the economy and ways you can protect nature while still having a successful economy … She was a foreign correspondent who was also a mom. She used to hear all these comments that you become a mom and lose your mind, so she was afraid of what motherhood was going to mean because she prided herself on her career and didn’t want to be come a brainless mom. What she found in her research is that motherhood actually makes you smarter and more focused. … so she’s found that actually you become more efficient, and you use your brain differently and become even more decisive than ever before. … It helps to read something and focus on something that’s my own—not just a nighttime children’s story.

But I couldn’t stay away from my conservation background so I’m reading an almost scary book called “Last Child in the Woods: Saving Our Children from Nature-Deficit Disorder” by Richard Louv. I never heard about this guy before. He was also a journalist who ended up writing seven books. His conclusion is basically that he links the absence of nature in the way that children are growing up today—what he calls the wired generation, you know Nintendo and iPod—he links the absence of nature to disturbing trends like the rise in obesity, attention disorders and depression. He’s collected research from around different publications and scientific journals. His conclusion is that we need direct exposure to nature and that we’re becoming the last generations who are exposed to nature and that more and more kids are not exposed to nature. That’s creating those disorders because they don’t have those peaceful places they go to, and that’s important to their emotional and physical health. It feeds my hunger for research, conservation, but you can really apply it to your life.

… Some of why we’re not connected to nature has to do with development and how we’re paving nature, but at least in American society with homeowners associations, rules determine where kids play. Rules, both private and public, are making it more difficult for kids to find public places to play. And, it’s not as safe for kids to just go wandering and parents don’t have the time or desire to wander with them. It’s interesting if you’re into conservation, and if you have kids, and that’s where I am right now. It’s common sense but puts it into a book and presents it a way you can think about it.

-How did you discover Louv’s book?

A mentor of mine, Laura Thompson, got the book and gave it to me for Christmas. She read it and said this is a book that every parent should read. I’m really grateful and she’s right. It’s really eye-opening. And she’s from a generation that grew up in nature, and she’s seen now three generations after her of transition from that. On an island where we live, although we have the ocean, still a lot of our ocean and mountain access is cut off. Space and wilderness is at a premium. On an island we definitely have to think about it. How do we protect these wild places that we love? And if nature has a chance of being preserved kids need to have contact and access to it or it’s going to become a story they see on TV or Nintendo.

-Does this book reinvigorate your long-term work to promote conservation?

Yeah I think that and “The Mommy Brain” both do that. For one thing, the Northwest Hawaiian Islands was such a long, draining fight. And you get to the end of that and you need a recharge. You need something that reminds you that it was all worth it and to re-inspire you to continue on. And having another child makes me think, should I be working this hard? Am I gypping my kids in the interest of conservation? This book really helps me think about it in two ways, that part of protecting my kids is working to protect nature and instilling in them those values. These books help to give me new perspective and other people’s perspective, not just the writers but the researchers and scientists they share quotes from. I’ve been really single-focused working on the Northwest Hawaiian Islands, so it’s good to have something fresh. So it is stimulating actually.

On Libraries

Libraries, for me, are a mixed bag of attitudes and emotions. My earliest library memory involves visiting an upstairs attic children's section where I looked for my favorite series as a first grader--Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle books. I can still conjure the light dusting through the window, the car waiting outside, and the sense of privilege and fun I felt going there and being allowed to take a prized book home.

Then of course there is the next recollection, my frequent use of the Kailua Public Library in Kailua where I grew up. It was more after school stop than study ground, convenient for telling parents we were doing homework and not where we really were, across the street at 7-11 eating nachos and drinking Slurpees. Of course I did check out books on occasion, only I kept forgetting to return them, all throughout high school, racking up the fines so that I never took out another book for fear of getting yelled at by the librarians (why I never simply paid them escapes me as well. I can only chalk it up to being a teenager). Years later, while back in Kailua studying for the GREs, I checked out some study aids and meant--honestly meant--to return them on time. But alas, I was late. I'm sure my fines for that transgression accumulate still, and so I have never been back--adolescent fear still winning out over reason and cents.

In college my library experiences were wholly positive, however. And when the surrounding library--one that resembled an old manor house den, with cramped and creaking upper shelves looking out on the reading cafes got too crowded and noisy, I would retreat to Morrison Library--my department's official chairs, desks and sofas below (see photo at right, of a mysterious reception held there). No one ever spoke a word there (though naps weren't uncommon), but you'd sometimes try to spot friends or cute boys to sit by. And when it was serious study time, I fled to the Doe Library stacks, its cold florescence imparting notes of officialness and always including endless nights without sleep.

Then during graduate school in England, before the British Library changed its policy, you had to prove that there were housed books you could not find elsewhere, or else you could not gain access to its collection or quiet research rooms. So prove I did, for I was researching Hawaiian myths and songs in England--who else would have the books I needed? And so I gained a prized possession--a British Library entrance card, which later my grandfather (who also had one) bragged about to ourselves. [Photo at right linked to the very informative and helpful research site www.researchinformation.info. Mahalo!]

Today, in my current rented abode, I have a wall of shelves (see right and top) that I covet even though they are not mine. Books arrive at my door nearly daily these days, and it's a regular occurrence that they pile above the shelves, in the cracks, and even in nearby bags ready to sell or give away--forced to cull because I am running out of space. But without them nearby I feel bereft, and somewhere in these shelves, in the ordering and sections, I am revealed.

Like my own self-devised fingerprint.

WIMR: John R. K. Clark

Late last year I interviewed John Clark (right) about what he was reading, soon after the publication of his most recent book, Guardian of the Sea: Jizo in Hawaii, which I reviewed for the Honolulu Advertiser. In the full text of our conversation below, find out why Clark is doing research to help him bring the count of Waikiki books in print to 10,001.

What I'm Reading | John R. K. Clark
Former Honolulu Deputy Fire Chief, Author

Q&A with Christine Thomas
November 2007

--What are you reading?

I’m reading every book that was ever written about Waikiki and surfing, which is the subject of my next book. I decided that ten thousand books on the subject aren’t enough, so I’m going to make it ten thousand and one. I think everybody and his cousin has written something on Waikiki. But on my nightstand right now are “The Hawaiian Canoe” by Tommy Holmes and “Waikiki Beachboy” by Grady Timmons.

For pleasure I’m reading “Warriors Super Edition: Firestar's Quest” by Erin Hunter, and my children, Saachi who’s 10 and Koji who’s 12, are avid readers and all three of us read a lot of tween and teen adventure series together. “Firestar's Quest” is the fifteenth book in the Warrior Series. That’s one thing that’s been really neat. Over the past few years. I look for quick reads. When I’m in my writer zone I make a conscious effort to not get into the 100-page Stephen King novels, so the Warrior Series and other books like them have been a really good fit for me. They’re quick, they’re easy reading--I can pick them up and put them down, and they have given me something to share with my kids. They’ve also given me good insight on what contemporary writers are writing for our children.

--How did you discover that series?

Sachi loves animals and she started reading the first book in the Warrior Series—it’s a fantasy adventure series about four clans of wild cats who live in a forest, and their form of government is the warrior code. The books are very well written—they’re fun, entertaining, and educational. Of course, the four clans also mirror human society in many ways.

--How about the others?

I’ve been methodically researching all of the books that deal with surfing and Waikiki and both of those books are two obvious choices. If you’re going to write anything about Waikiki and surfing, those are must-reads.

--What stands out about Holmes’ and Timmons’ books?

Both of the writers were very good researchers and rather than just repackaging all of the material that’s out there from other sources, they went back to primary source to get information. In fact, Tommy Holmes did an exceptional job of going back to primary sources in researching “The Hawaiian Canoe.” In other words, he didn’t just go back to someone else’s book and paraphrase what they said, he actually went back to people’s journals, Hawaiian language newspapers, and he did oral interviews with people who were actually living—that’s original research.

--Is that what you strove for in your new book “Guardian of the Sea,” to seek out stories of those who actually lived through past events?

In “Guardian of the Sea” I tried as much as possible to do that, and do so in all my books. I try to let my informants reveal what the material is—I try to let them tell the story rather then stepping in and trying to paraphrase and interpret. I think it’s a good way to tell history accurately. You’re letting the people who actually lived the incident tell it in their own words. So they’re speaking for themselves, and I’m not speaking for them. I think that makes it more objective. It also gives us a good snapshot of the culture and the people, and even the language of that particular time that the incident occurred.

For the Birds

The Last Flight of the Scarlet Macaw: One Woman's Fight to Save the World's Most Beautiful Bird
By Bruce Barcott
Random House; 315 pages; $25.95

Reviewed by Christine Thomas
Published in the Miami Herald 3/2/08

As the reality of waning resources and climate change sets in, many people likely echo Outside magazine contributing editor Bruce Barcott’s admission that “[a]t times the earth’s fate seems so dire and inexorable that I’m tempted to throw up my hands and say to hell with it.” But though we persevere, in his new book “The Last Flight of the Scarlet Macaw,” Barcott reminds us that there are still too few people with the courage of Sharon Matola, an American expatriate who risked her livelihood to the save Belize’s vanishing population of scarlet macaws.

The eccentric, often divisive director of the Belize Zoo, Matola spent six years attempting to stop the Belize government from building the Chalillo Dam and flooding the Macal Valley, a scarlet macaw nesting place that Matola dubs “a Noah’s ark for all the endangered species driven out of the rest of Central America.” Her fight began with a simple letter of protest, where most people would have stopped, then led to the government labeling her an enemy of the people and the involvement of the NRDC, and ended with a rare appeal to the London Privy Council (Belize’s head of state is still Queen Elizabeth II).

Buoyed by a dynamic cast of characters—from Matola, whose quirks (like sharing her office with a three-legged jaguar) outdid Belize’s already “colorful human menagerie,” to Belizean finance minister Ralph Fonseca, whom Barcott vibrantly describes as possessing “the cunning of Iago and the silhouette of Alfred Hitchcock”—and a plot so many-layered and dramatic that readers will need to remind themselves it’s a true account, Barcott’s narrative achieves both the depth of a case study and the accessible intimacy of a short feature. Throughout, his relaxed, lucid writing and inventive descriptions keep readers on the side of Matola and the birds, such as rendering the macaw as a colorful chicken that “sounds like one of nature’s chain-smokers, their cry a throaty, blaring rrrra.”

The book weaves facilely back and forth between the chronology of Matola’s story and uncovering the intricate plait of issues surrounding it, including Belize’s increasing electricity needs, extinction, the history of dams, environmental impact statements, and utility privatization (Belize sold theirs after taking out an ad in The Economist)—all while deftly integrating implications of the political history between Belize, England and Guatemala, current corruption, colonial grudges, and citizen apathy. Though some sections suffer from repetition, Barcott’s reminders may aid some in navigating the web of this protracted battle, which he explicitly supports throughout his first person account.

The fight to stop the Chalillo Dam is just one of the increasingly difficult choices people everywhere have to make as we learn that preserving the environment for other species may actually be a tactical choice for sustaining human life as well. And though in the end the Belize government was allowed to act on its own and the dam was completed in 2005, Matola’s story is powerful proof that individuals—even by writing just one letter—can make a difference and engender change and action.

Mythical Libraries

A must-share preview of my current reading undertaking, the long-awaited and oft postponed personal and ordered yet disorderly meditation on the library, The Library at Night by Alberto Manguel. If this beginning doesn't tickle and tempt you, I might think that you don't own any books:

"The starting point is the question.

Outside theology and fantastic literature, few can doubt that the main features of our universe are its dearth of meaning and lack of discernible purpose. And yet, with bewildering optimism, we continue to assemble whatever scraps of information we can gather in scrolls and books and computer chips, on shelf after library shelf, whether material, virtual or otherwise, pathetically intent on lending the world a semblance of sense and order, while knowing perfectly well that, however much we'd like to believe the contrary, our pursuits are sadly doomed to failure.

Why then do we do it? Though I knew from the start that the question would most likely remain unanswered, the quest seemed worthwhile for its own sake. This book is the story of that quest."

--Alberto Manguel, in the foreword to his book "The Library at Night" to be published by Yale University Press, April 2008

Run Like Murakami

With help from The Global Game editor, over the weekend I read an interview with Haruki Murakami in Germany's Spiegel, about his running addiction and new memoir (not yet out in English) "What I Talk About When I Talk About Running."

If you aren't aware, Murakami, the most popular living Japanese author, not only writes copiously but runs a marathon every year--there's even a web site that tracks his marathon movements called Let's Haruking on Foot, although it only goes up to 2005.

He runs to be mentally and physically fit, strong enough to dig into the dark places his stories inhabit, and most important to find his way up again.

Here's an excerpt of this funny, intimate interview:

SPIEGEL: Are you a better writer because you run?

Murakami: Definitely. The stronger my muscles got, the clearer my mind became. I am convinced that artists who lead an unhealthy life burn out more quickly. Jimi Hendrix, Jim Morrison, Janis Joplin were the heroes of my youth -- all of them died young, even though they didn't deserve to. Only geniuses like Mozart or Pushkin deserve an early death. Jimi Hendrix was good, but not so smart because he took drugs. Working artistically is unhealthy; an artist should lead a healthy life to make up for it. Finding a story is a dangerous thing for an author; running helps me to avert that danger.

SPIEGEL: Could you explain that?

Murakami: When a writer develops a story, he is confronted with a poison that is inside him. If you don't have that poison, your story will be boring and uninspired. It's like fugu: The flesh of the pufferfish is extremely tasty, but the roe, the liver, the heart can be lethally toxic. My stories are located in a dark, dangerous part of my consciousness, I feel the poison in my mind, but I can fend off a high dose of it because I have a strong body. When you are young, you are strong; so you can usually conquer the poison even without being in training. But beyond the age of 40 your strength wanes, you can no longer cope with the poison if you lead an unhealthy life.

Read the whole interview here.

There's also a helpful page for Murakami-philes on Guardian UK web site, listing articles an updates on publications and events.

Your Food's Food

Okay, so I'm a little bit late to the game on this one. A few of those I've featured for my Advertiser column have been reading The Omnivore's Dilemma: A Natural History of Four Meals, but not I--until now. During my last flight back to Hawaii I picked up a copy of Michael Pollan's journey to the source of four meals--exploring everything from the monstrous corn surplus and its effects to organic factory farming, and how it seems to be more important not what you eat, but what what you eat eats.

Though the initial section on corn seems quite long--and indeed, that's kind of the point--the narrative is subtly engaging, Pollan's writing personal yet knowledgeable, never off-putting or inaccessible. I haven't yet finished it, as upon my return I had several books to review, but I find myself wishing someone would take these ideas and findings and make a food buying guide for Hawaii residents who may ask: is it better to buy local or buy organic from elsewhere? Should I eat what's in season? Why do we export local cattle for finishing?

Instead of first lines, I'll give you last--that is, the last lines I read before moving on to work books. Some food for thought--no pun intended.

"The fact that the nutritional quality of food (and of that food's food) can vary not just in degree but in kind throws a big wrench into an industrial food chain, the very premise of which is that beef is beef and salmon is salmon. It also throws a new light on the whole question of cost, for if quality matters so much more than quantity, then the price of a food may bear little relation to the value of the nutrients in it. If units of omega-3s and beta-carotene and vitamin E are what an egg shopper is really after, then Joel's $2.20 a dozen pastured eggs actually represent a better deal that the $0.79 a dozen industrial eggs at the supermarket. As long as one egg looks pretty much like another, all the chickens like chicken, and beef beef, the substitution of quantity for quality will go on unnoticed by most consumers, but it is becoming increasingly apparent to anyone with an electron microscope or a mass spectrometer that, truly, this is not the same food."

From The Omnivore's Dilemma: A Natural History of Four Meals by Michael Pollan

A Bucket of Mackerel

As a freelance book critic, it's rare that I read more for pleasure than for work, but rarer still that I am able to write simply to entice readers to read a certian book rather than dissect its parts--what makes it fall apart, and what makes it work for readers. I was able to do that recently when I wrote a short piece on Amy Sutherland's new book What Shamu Taught Me About Life, Love, and Marriage: Lessons for People from Animals and Their Trainers, the follow up to her hit 2006 New York Times Article.

I occasionally write articles for a new Hawai`i email magazine Lei Chic--kind of a local version of Daily Candy, and on the 15th my article "Planet of the Apes" ran. (See below.) I was chuffed to receive an email from Sutherland a few days later thanking me for the fun piece, with the subject line: A bucket of mackerel for you!

Planet of the Apes
February 15, 2008

Your dad warned you—men are animals. But women are too. So, what if you stopped thinking of the man in your life as from another world, and instead considered him a related subspecies: the stubborn, loveable American Husband/Boyfriend? Then you could stop taking his annoying habits personally, and help him become a more live-with-able cage mate with some targeted animal training.

Journalist Amy Sutherland did just that. Researching an article on exotic animal trainers led her to try some of their practices on her husband—a life-altering experience detailed in her new book What Shamu Taught Me About Life, Love, and Marriage, an expansion of her hit 2006 New York Times article.

She began by simply rewarding behaviors she liked and ignoring ones she didn’t. That meant giving him a kiss when he picked up even just one dirty item off the floor and holding back the sarcastic comments when he lost his keys, again. The results were so remarkable, at first Sutherland didn’t realize she was also training herself—to be more patient and accepting, of everyone.

The anti-self help book, Shamu is a fresh, candid story about changing our outlook for the better.

Because male or female, we are from the same planet, after all.

Available at your favorite local or online bookstore.

Tantalizing Travel

Sometimes we all need a break, if only to curl up against the world with the books we've been meaning to devour. I plan to read as much as possible throughout the next few weeks, during my faraway travels. Because sometimes you need to get away not only in your mind, but in body as well.

In the meantime I'll leave you with the titles of the books I'm taking (packing room permitting) during my trip, so you have some suggestions for your own reading vacation, whether on island or abroad.

Literary Lotus will return mid-February. Happy reading.

Words Without Borders: The World Through the Eyes of Writers: An Anthology

The End of Mr.Y By Scarlett Thomas

Caspian Rain By Gina Nihai

No Logo: No Space, No Choice, No Jobs By Naomi Klein

Lazy Eye By my friend Donna Daley-Clarke

Tender Is the Night By F. Scott Fitzgerald

Voyaging to the Last Book of the Sea

Last but not at all least, the final book review in my books of the sea roundup--one sure to become a local shelves staple.

Vaka Moana, Voyages of the Ancestors: The Discovery and Settlement of the Pacific
Edited by K. R. Howe
UH Press; 360 pages; $59

Reviewed by Christine Thomas Special to the Honolulu Advertiser

Much the same way crewmembers work together to sail a voyaging canoe, fourteen authors worked with Massey University professor and editor K. R. Howe to form the five-pound tome “Vaka Moana,” a compilation of scholarly but accessible essays on the epic history of Pacific settlement. Swollen with 400 color and black and white illustrations, including beautiful photographs, artifacts, maps, and charts, each storyteller’s personalized prose conveys the most current knowledge about voyaging past and present.

Pacific voyagers left the sight of land thousands of years before any other explorers, and settled the last places on Earth. Thus the authors appropriately cover a broad range of topics—human evolution, Polynesian traditions, voyaging (including a subsection on Nainoa Thompson), life and trade after exploration, and Western ideas about origins—amounting to a piercing encyclopedic examination of our Pacific ancestors’ daring journey, and mirroring the prominence of indigenous nationalism today.

As the book notes, “Pacific people know their stories. But the world does not.” This complete and thorough work aims to change that, and any misperceptions about the world’s first maritime people. It’s sure to become a staple on local shelves, as much as “Shoal of Time” or the “Loyal to the Land” series.

Books of the Sea: part one

I recently wrote a roundup of reviews of three books connected to Hawai`i and to the sea. The first is a charming book of sea trivia by Lorenz Schroter. More to come this week on Literary Lotus.

The Little Book of the Sea
By Lorenz Schroter
Translated by Alan Bance and David Reeve
MacAdam/Cage; 233 pages; $15

Reviewed by Christine Thomas
Special to the Honolulu Advertiser

The enigmatic rhythms of the sea have entranced legions, but those wary of embarking on watery adventures can instead explore Lorenz Schroter’s charming, nearly pocket sized primer of the sea. A travel journalist based in Berlin, Schroter skips any introduction and instead forces readers to jump right in with a list of the total volume of water on Earth (ground humidity accounts for 0.001%, in case you’re wondering).

But it’s not just lists of whats and how manys and whyfores that populate the book, though these are refreshing breaths of salt air amidst longer, mini essays that delve deeper into myriad aquatic issues. Amongst them are why the British coastline is so long, who the channel swimmers are, how to prepare sharkskin for a drum, or bizarrely, how to artificially inseminate a sea urchin (among the needed tools are potassium chloride and a coffee filter).

As there is no overt rhyme or reason to the order of lore, recipes, facts and figures, with such trivia as “coins with sea turtles on them” washing this way and that like ocean billows, it’s best to dive into the book at random and go fishing for an unexpected sea fact. Otherwise, there’s an alphabetized index to help get that burning question answered, or simply navigate directly to “Hawai`i.”

Visible Fences

It's been difficult to get online this week. . . My review of the internment memoir of Yasutaro Soga appeared last week in the Honolulu Advertiser, and appears in full below.

LIFE BEHIND BARBED WIRE: The World War II Internment Memoirs of a Hawai`i Issei
By Yasutaro Soga; translated by Kihei Harai
UH Press; 255 pages; $24

Reviewed by Christine Thomas
Special to the Advertiser

An issei journalist, tanka poet, and former editor of O`ahu’s Japanese newspaper Nippu Jiji (later The Hawai`i Times), Yasutaro Soga was one of 1466 Hawai`i Japanese incarcerated after the bombing of Pearl Harbor. Because his name was on a longstanding U.S. government list of Japanese citizens who would be the first placed in concentration camps in the event of trouble (lists that were in 1943 deemed without merit), Soga was arrested on the evening of December 7, at age 68.

During his nearly four-year internment—first at Sand Island, where he spent six months in tents before barracks were built, then at Lordsburg and Santa Fe camps on the mainland—Soga kept a daily record of what he saw, which after his release he used to write a memoir. The first English translation of his story, released this month, is unusual, for though one third of Japanese interned were issei, ineligible for citizenship, most accounts focus on Nisei, who were American citizens. In his typically fair and truthful way, Soga explains that “[i]n the camps,” both generations “represented the Japanese community of the Americas in miniature,” and offers a more complete portrait of this past period of American injustice.

Soga’s account is a straightforward, thorough reporting that ignores dialogue and remembered conversations in favor of precise details about life in the camps. Amongst the myriad recorded information, which might seem wearisome at times in its volume but is above all fascinating in its intimacy, there are internee names and transfer dates, cuisine at each camp (eating was a primary pastime), details of how they governed themselves and took care of their own medical care, what he learned about life on the mainland from fellow internees, encounters with new animals like rattlesnakes and horned toads, climate, and experience with mainland fruit.

Though not a diary, Soga’s descriptions are nonetheless very personal, imparting a sense of Soga the man, such as his expression of irritation when others put themselves before the good of the group, his focus on beauty and enrichment in the face of severe injustice and deprivation, and above all his quiet endurance. From observations of the differences between Japanese and other German and Italian internees, the backgrounds and circumstances of mainland versus Hawai`i Japanese (for instance, Hawai`i Japanese were more settled but those on the mainland tended to wander in search of work), a general portrait of humanity develops, providing insight into how people managed to survive this painfully uncertain time.

At times there are even moving expressions of grief and pain, such as this spare but quietly poetic description of leaving Sand Island for the mainland:

“The day before I left, I asked Dr. Mori to give my wife the ninety poems I had composed while in the camp. I felt like the aimless wanderer in the old Japanese tales. … When we passed in front of the women’s barracks, they called out, ‘Good luck!’ I heard Mrs. Mori say, ‘Mr. Soga, be strong.’ A tear fell in spite of myself. We boarded the ship at four o’clock that afternoon.”

Throughout, America’s wartime internment program is revealed to be both tragic and illogical, seeming to inspire support of Japan and encourage anti-Americanism among internees even as the action was undertaken in the name of national security. It’s impossible not to think of today’s post 9/11 reactionary policies in the same light, and thus “Life Behind Barbed Wire” is a vital reminder that alternatives to visible and invisible barbed-wire fences do exist.

Eco-Optimism

Apparently I've been a bit slow on the uptake, or at least too busy to look up, because my Q&A with Break Through co-author Michael Shellenberger appeared in last week's Honolulu Weekly, and I just saw it yesterday.

I interviewed Shellenberger about his and Ted Nordhaus' book, the Break Through thesis, and applications to Hawai`i's future. One topic we focused on was solar--in his words "What the hell is one of the sunniest places on earth doing getting its power from coal?" Last night he posted that on his blog, delving further into the solar issue (which centers on cost), and in about two hours there were already over 60 comments. For the full scoop, read the Weekly Q&A below, then take a look at Shellenberger's post.

Q&A: The Eco-Optimist
Interview by Christine Thomas

Environmentalist and author Michael Shellenberger turns the Earth-first paradigm on its head.

In 2004, two well-known environmentalists released a pamphlet at a donor and grantee conference on Kaua`i, calling on greenies to replace “doomsday discourse” with a powerful, positive vision ala Martin Luther King Jr.’s “I Have a Dream” speech. To their surprise it was debated not just among insiders, but a diverse global audience. Now Nordhaus and Shellenberger have expanded their treatise in Break Through: From the Death of Environmentalism to the Politics of Possibility, breaking down why sacrifice-based solutions such as reducing emissions won’t succeed, and presenting a practical vision of how to address global warming.

Shellenberger spoke to the Honolulu Weekly about the future of politics and Hawai`i.

I’m sure you’ve been asked this a lot, but in Break Through why do you and Nordhaus assert that current environmental politics must die—couldn’t they just be rehabilitated?

What needs to die is the insistence that “the environment” be at the center of our politics. When it comes to dealing with global warming and rainforest destruction, what we need is a new vision for economic development, one focused on clean energy and people living in livable cities. That's a very different kind of politics than the nature protection kind we had under both conservation and environmentalism.

Because of this, many environmentalists have labeled you and Nordhaus bad-boy naysayers—part of the problem, not part of the solution. Is this just defensive hyperbole in response to a call to change?

The negative reaction is coming from different camps. Some of it comes from people who believe that there just isn't enough planet Earth for everyone to live like we live—it's a mentality of limits, not possibility. Some of the negative reaction comes from the environmental establishment, which believes that new pollution regulations will solve global warming—a strategy that has already failed with Kyoto and in Europe. Still others are upset that we describe the ways in which environmentalism is too much like a religion and not enough like a church. Nature and science aren't "telling us what to do"—we have to decide for ourselves. And achieving that means creating new kinds of community that can create a new politics.

Hawai`i’s culture is rooted in love and respect of the land, yet paradoxically we depend on coal for energy, have limited mass transit, strong opposition to growth and change, and few environmental measures in place—not even curbside recycling. Are we thus in a great position to start creating a new politics in the “right” way, or do we have just as much work to do to eliminate the old paradigm?

It’s crazy that such an incredibly sunny place like Hawai`i relies so heavily on coal. Going solar would allow Hawai`i to reduce its dependence on coal and would create thousands of new jobs for local electricians and builders installing solar panels. Solar is cost-competitive when the electricity costs are spread out over a 10 - 20 year period. One tool might be a “revolving fund” that lent money to homeowners and business owners seeking to finance their solar system. A small group of Hawaiians could probably convince the state legislature to set something up like this—the best argument is probably that it’s good for the local economy and will clean up the air.

Don't some elements of environmentalism, particularly nature protection and limited growth, have a place in this new politics? Obviously here, where the Islands' natural beauty drives our tourism-based economy, preserving them is central to prosperity.

Humans are natural beings. No matter how badly we develop our environments, it’s always natural. The question is thus, what kind of relationship do we want with the nonhuman world? This is a profound existential question that goes way beyond land conservation. Respecting Hawai`i’s natural assets requires some kind of development, even if that development consists of protecting wild areas from human development. Solar panels on rooftops are another kind of development required to protect Hawai`i’s clean air. Our argument is that for any ecological politics to succeed, it must focus on the wider set of questions around development—livable communities, good jobs, respectful tourism—and not nature protection alone.

In the book you talk about prosperity as a precondition for this kind of progressive politics, as well as ecological consciousness as a whole. Why is prosperity so important?

There are two different things related to prosperity. The first is that ecological concern is a “postmaterial” concern—it emerges after we get our material needs for food, shelter, and security met, as well as a set of lower-order postmaterial concerns, such as self-esteem and a sense of belonging and purpose. It is for this reason that environmentalism emerges in wealthy communities and nations before poor ones. The second thing we have to understand about prosperity is progress. People become more generous and win-win oriented when things are improving. So what matters is both absolute and relative prosperity.

Besides increasing prosperity, what else do communities need to create dynamic solutions instead of regulating and limiting?

It’s important to start with the big picture: what kind of Hawai`i do you want? What’s in the vision and what’s not? What kind of development do you want and what kind of development don’t you want? This act of imagining and visioning is so basic and yet many of us who are in politics forget to do it, or we assume that we’re all operating from the same vision.

So your vision, then, is instead of scaring us with the fear of impending disaster, inspiring the United States to greatness?

The first thing we have to do is remember concrete things we've done to overcome past challenges. We pulled ourselves out of the Great Depression. And after World War II we made strategic investments in new technologies like medicine, aerospace, microchips and the Internet, which have been good for the country. Today, we have new challenges—Iraq, oil addiction, a lagging economy, and global warming. Overcoming them demands shared investment in promising new technologies, like solar, that could create millions of new installation jobs in the U.S., while freeing ourselves from oil and dealing with global warming.

So in a sentence?

We must invest in clean energy innovation, for it is the most important tool we have for overcoming the crises we face while allowing us to take the next stage in our evolution toward excellence and greatness.

Voices of Dissent

On December 15, Maui's progressive publisher Koa Books, founded by Arnie Kotler, released Dissent: Voices of Conscience, by Army Colonel (Ret.) and diplomat Ann Wright, and UH-Manoa instructor Susan Dixon.

Inside Wright and Kotler tell the stories of dozens of men and women, all government insiders and military personnel, who risked career and life as they knew it to speak out and even leak information in protest of government action they felt was illegal. Just one is Wright, who had served 29 years in the military and 16 as a diplomat, and resigned her post as Mongolia's Deputy Ambassador in protest during the run-up to the Iraq war.

Wright and Dixon will read from their book tonight in Hilo, Friday on Maui, and Sunday in Honolulu, where copies will also be available for purchase.

Reading Schedule:

HILO - Thursday, December 20, at 7:00 p.m.
Kahuina Gallery, 128 Kilauea Ave. (corner of Keawe)

MAUI - Friday, December 21, at 5:30 p.m.
Gallerie Ha, 51 North Market Street, Wailuku
(across from Cafe Marc Aurel)

HONOLULU - Sunday, December 23, at 3:00 p.m.
Revolution Books, 2626 South King Street

www.voicesofconscience.com for more information

Opulence of Old

An adoring and engaging celebrity insider story about an not wholly adorable American figure.

CLARE: The Honolulu Years
David W. Eyre
Mutual; 254 pages; $35

Reviewed by Christine Thomas
Special to the Advertiser, 12/9/07

Many people in Hawai`i today might know the name Clare Boothe Luce only from the background of modern life—perhaps the eponymous Honolulu Academy of Art pavilion or Punahou School wing. The recent publication of David Eyre’s book, written in the late 1980s, sets out to change that with an exploration of Luce’s 14 years as a Hawai`i resident during the 1970s and ‘80s, after the death of her husband Henry R. Luce, founder of “Time” and “Life” magazines, brought her away from the world stage.

Eyre is a good storyteller, and begins the book with a long list of Honolulu characters who interacted with Luce, from Japanese stamp trader Takashi Gomo, who bought her home in 1983; to Vladimir Ossipoff, the architect who designed it and found Luce extremely difficult to work with. Also one of her friends during that time, Eyre writes with unabashed adoration of her celebrity and luxurious life, but oddly much of the story is conjecture.

He presents a portrait of her character and a day in her life not from direct interaction but pieced together from a mini tour of the Dolphin House, her possessions, details of her painting lessons, health, and dealings with architects, designers, politicians and artists. Throughout, the story is framed by historical context, revealing less of her intimate person, and more her position in American life.

A journalist, playwright, congresswoman, and ambassador, Luce was indeed a larger than life figure, but one also known for her “bitchiness” and ruthlessness. She admitted marrying her first husband, George Brokaw, for his money, and as Eyre writes, “Critics in and out of the press often portrayed Clare as a malicious, selfish, unpleasant woman determined to claw to the top.” She owned a teakettle purportedly plucked from the ash heap of Hiroshima, never knew what she wanted, took credit for others’ ideas, and was a known miser.

And though she purportedly loved Hawai`i, she remained indifferent to its culture and customs. Just one example is that though she began formal painting lessons in the Islands, she never patronized Hawai`i artists; there were no Jean Charlots or Pegge Hoppers in her art collection. Eyre bemoans how Honolulu high society snubbed her, how she was never invited to Washington Place and never given any local award.

But Eyre doesn’t address the other perspective—why should Honolulu, with its own culture, politics and concerns, care that a rich, aloof dowager moved to the Islands for a few years? What award should she have been given, and for what service? (The Honolulu Academy of Art pavilion that bears her name was paid for by the Luce Foundation, not Clare herself.)

Eyre calls it “public neglect” as a result of political differences (Luce was a conservative Republican), but seems too enamored of her, flaws and all, to entertain more obvious reasons for her diminished influence in the Islands. This myopia is underscored by a section detailing Hawai`i’s past, influences, landscape, climate, pidgin and food, as if this locally published book was produced for a purely mainland audience.

Nonetheless, the immediacy of Eyre’s facile prose creates a sense of drama that has all the allure of a celebrity insider story, with gossip tidbits, quotes, and photographs of jewels, presidents and parties that are hard to pass up. Luce is the book’s cynosure, a point from which to view the not too distant opulent ‘80s in Honolulu past.