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[First published in Dublin Review of Books]

Fermentation as Metaphor, by Sandor Ellix Katz, Chelsea Green Publishing, 128 pp, $25, ISBN: 978-1645020219

He calls himself a fermentation revivalist. With several award-winning books on the subject and a very large following on YouTube, Sandor Ellix Katz is part fermentation expert and part fermentation superstar. But I wondered: why revivalist? Did fermentation ever go out of fashion? Where I spent my adult life ‑ in Japan ‑ fermentation has always stood centre-stage. From soy sauce to miso and from sake to tsukemono, it is hard to imagine Japanese food without it.

I was inducted into the Way of Pickles early on in my Japan days. The first time I visited my ex-husband’s hometown in Shizuoka, the family egged me on to stick my hand into Grandma’s pickle jar. It was kept underneath the sink, and every day someone had to put their hand deep into the large ceramic jug and stir things up to keep the fermentation process going. This was called nukazuke, and Grandma Ogasawara was an expert. The nuka “bed” ‑ made from rice bran, salt, seaweed and some water ‑ required regular stirring for oxygenation. Why this had to be done with a human hand remained a mystery, one among many. Grandma would toss in cucumbers, radishes, eggplant, carrots, little onions or anything else she had on hand and then a few days or weeks later, eat accordingly. Because she never tossed out the nuka bed, the flavours became more complex over time. Or so the story goes. In the end, I did stick my hand in and give it a stir ‑ to everyone’s great delight. And his grandma rewarded me with the best pickles I had ever tasted.

One could no more easily imagine Japan without sake, mirin and soy sauce than Korea without kimchi or gochujang. And how about thinking of France without bread, cheese and wine? In Europe and beyond, you can still find wines made with naturally occurring yeasts. Indeed, there are purists who refuse anything other than biodynamic wine. It is part of the fight to reclaim cultural identity and part of the magic of terroir. Proponents of natural wine say industrial wines are not alive.

Katz also asks us to consider the Catholic Mass and the sacrament of bread and wine. If that’s not fermentation than I don’t know what is, he says. Indeed, many rituals and rites found in traditional cultures incorporate fermented beverages. Made from grains, fruit, and honey ‑ as well as yogurts and cheese ‑ these drinks can be traced back more than eight thousand years. And recently, the mold-based fermentation known as koji, used in Asian soy and fish sauces, miso, sake, vegetable pickling, and spicy sauces such as doubanjiang and gochujang, is gaining popularity in America and Europe. It is valued for its umami impact, that indescribable taste supercharger.

While his previous books, like the New York Times bestseller The Art of Fermentation, describe the concepts, processes, and health benefits of fermentation, in this book Katz explores fermentation as a metaphor.

What kind of metaphor? Well, you name it. Fermentation has long been used as a metaphor for societal change, cultural changes, political changes, economic changes ‑ it is even used in terms of spiritual changes. The English word is derived from the Latin fervere, which means to boil. But while fire consumes everything in its path, fermentation brings transformation. “Driven by bacteria that spawned all life on earth and continue to be the matrix of all life, fermentation is a force that cannot be stopped. It recycles life, renews hope, and goes on and on.”

And what is the fermentation metaphor without the bubbles? “Bubbles create movement,” Katz says, “literally exciting the substrate being transformed by the fermentation, bringing it to life.” When our ideas, our spirits, our thoughts bubble up, it shows that something exciting is taking shape, he continues. This is something that was not lost on physicist Richard Feynman, who once suggested that “All life is fermentation.”

I used to believe that all life is translation. I am a translator, you see. And if you stop and think about it, so much does come down to translation and interpretation. But then again, how much more comes down to fermentation!

Bubbles in the plural are, of course, different from bubble in the singular, and Katz talks a lot about the wonders of the former and the dangers of the latter. In particular, while bubbles thrive on soupy situations that require a multitude of microorganisms and elements, the singular version relies more on concepts of singleness or purity. For example, living in a liberal bubble might suggest an absence of other voices, unpleasant or otherwise. Concepts of racial purity, binary sexuality, or food purity have gone down even more slippery slopes of false categories and unscientific thinking. I know I personally hesitate when making mold-based pickles because I have a fear that I will create a Frankenstein’s monster in my pickle jar. I am wary of things not purchased on a supermarket shelf, such as wild mushrooms. I was therefore surprised to learn that pickled vegetables are among the safest items you can make at home.

In the same way that we now know that childhood exposure to diverse microorganisms can help protect against allergies, asthma, and other autoimmune diseases, so exposure to a diversity of different people can inoculate against racism and closed-mindedness. As Joan Harvey has written in her review of the book in 3 Quarks Daily: “Katz reminds us food is not clean, children are not pure, sexuality should not be suppressed. He even has sections on body odors and farting, though he does not go so far as to use farting as metaphor. Purist fantasies of race, blood, nation, culture, are just that, fantasies.”

It is true that our lives are governed by stark and absolute categories. “There’s good and bad, hot and cold, clean and dirty; there’s kindness and cruelty; there’s heaven and hell. In political reporting we hear about red states and blue states, though everywhere there is a diversity of opinions, even where the vast majority feels one way or another.” This seems like an obvious point, but in moving, for example from a Japanese language mindset to that of an English one, I have been struck again and again by the way dualism and dualistic categories dominate the way people think in English. And so I appreciated Katz driving the point home that life exists more along a spectrum ‑ and that bacteria are not possible in a pristine environment. Some level of contamination is required to achieve those bubbles.

Thinking back in terms of biodynamic wine, for example, Katz talks about the way that the modern approach, which uses chemicals to sterilise the crushed grapes in order to introduce a single strain of yeast is a serious departure from the long history of winemaking that always worked with the groups of microorganisms already present in the fruit.

Purity is impossible and contamination is inevitable. Katz repeats this several times. In a completely sterile environment, for example, fermentation would be impossible. While humans may single out particular bacteria or organisms to work with in their food labs, in nature they exist in interdependent clusters that are breaking down parts to give rise to new forms, and those in turn break down as well. This is an apt metaphor for social change as well, “which works as a source of mutation, transformation, and regeneration”.

Despite his strong opinions, Katz is not in favour of categorical stances. Having been diagnosed with HIV in his early life, he is kept alive by certain anti-viral medications. So, while he is the first to say that antibiotics and anti-viral drugs are good things to have around ‑ a very good thing indeed! ‑ their overuse is wreaking havoc on the natural ecosystems in the soil and in our bodies. His vision of the world is one of interdependence, where the boundaries between organisms are not quite as solid as we normally imagine. To illustrate this, more than half of the book is filled with gorgeous full-page photographs of the microbiotic world that were taken using an electron microscope. The images are artificially colorised to highlight the complexity of the structures and membranes. Not unlike our own human skin, the dividing line between the organisms appears porous and blurred. Scientists tell us that we are ourselves composed of a multispecies crowd with microorganisms making up 1-3 per cent of our body mass and comprising a vital role in human health.

So how can we better live in harmony with the natural world? How can we slow down and eat in a healthier and more sustainable way? Can we ever move beyond simplistic binary notions, including that of racial purity, food purity, language purity to get beyond the us versus the world mentality? These are all questions tackled by the great rock star of fermentation, who reminds us that,

Food offers us many opportunities to resist the culture of mass marketing and commodification … We do not have to be reduced to the role of consumers selecting from seductive convenience items. We can merge appetite with activism and choose to involve ourselves in food as co-creators.

It all reminded me of Richard Feynman, who also liked his fair share of bubbles. Feynman wrote about a nameless poet who said that the whole universe was in a glass of wine:

If our small minds, for some convenience, divide this glass of wine, this universe, into parts ‑ physics, biology, geology, astronomy, psychology, and so on ‑ remember that nature does not know it! So let us put it all back together, not forgetting ultimately what it is for. Let it give us one more final pleasure; drink it and forget it all!

How wonderful it must be to hold your wine glass up to the light and see stars and galaxies refracted there! And I do think that happiness demands this kind of slowing down and really seeing things. That is because when you slow down and become attentive to the world, you come to belong to the world as much as the world belongs to you ‑ even if just in that moment. The world is no longer a resource to be efficiently consumed but instead becomes lit up and embodied with voice and with sentiment, we and it an inseparable whole.

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Fermentation

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Sandor Ellix Katz:

Fermentation as Metaphor & The Art of Fermentation

The Revolution Will Not Be Microwaved: Inside America's Underground Food Movements

And

Koji Alchemy

Interview with author Rich Shih in Serious Eats

He calls himself a fermentation revivalist. With several award-winning books on the subject and a very large following on YouTube, Sandor Ellix Katz is part fermentation expert and part fermentation superstar. But I wondered: why revivalist? Did fermentation ever go out of fashion? Where I spent my adult life-- in Japan-- fermentation has always stood center stage. From soy sauce to miso and from sake to tsukemono, it is hard to imagine Japanese food without it.

I was inducted into the Way of Pickles early on in my Japan days. The first time I visited my ex-husband’s hometown in Shizuoka, the family egged me on to stick my hand into Grandma’s pickle jar. It was kept underneath the sink, and every day someone had to put their hand deep into the large ceramic jug and stir things up to keep the fermentation process going. Called nukazuke, Grandma Ogasawara was an expert. The nuka “bed” -- made from rice bran, salt, seaweed and some water-- required regular stirring for oxygenation. Why this had to be done with a human hand remained a mystery, one among many. Grandma would toss in cucumbers, radishes, eggplant, carrots, little onions, or anything else she had on hand and then a few days or weeks later, eat accordingly. Because she never tossed out the nuka bed, the flavors became more complex over time. Or so the story goes. In the end, I did stick my hand in and give it a stir—to everyone’s great delight. And his grandma rewarded me with the best pickles I had ever tasted! Rest of review in Dublin Review of Books here.

Foundations of Flavor: The Noma Guide to Fermentation
by Rene Redzepi, David Zilber

 

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Hell Bent

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First appeared at the Dublin Review on March 1, 2020--read in Caltech Book Club.

The Parade, by Dave Eggers, Hamish Hamilton, 192 pp, £14.99, ISBN: 9780241394496

Dante might have borrowed his idea for hell’s antechamber from the Book of Revelations (3:16): “But because thou art lukewarm and neither cold nor hot, I will begin to vomit thee out of my mouth.”

Dante’s third circle of hell lies just inside the gates: “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.” But it is still on this side of the River Acheron, across from which is hell proper. This is why the third circle is sometimes referred to as hell’s antechamber. A place for cowards and fence-sitters. Opportunists, wafflers and neutrals. That is to say, this is where most people will end up.

This is the world we find ourselves in in Dave Eggers’s latest novel, The Parade.

There are two men. They have no names (only numbers) and no physicality; no distinguishing features beyond their defining sin. Four is an opportunist. He is a fence-sitter. He is a guy who wants to get the job done so he can collect his paycheck and get back to his family. In contrast, Nine is defined by his insatiable appetites (and so probably belongs in hell proper). Nine is there to drink in the world. He doesn’t think of consequences. He might be a rapist. While neither are good, neither are completely bad either. Four is devoted to his wife and daughter back home, and Nine gives away crucial medical supplies because, he says, “The people need them more than we do.” And Nine notices the beauty of the stars at night, while Four doesn’t care.

In a nameless landscape equally devoid of distinguishing features, Four and Nine have been hired to pave a road connecting the remote south of the country to the capital in the north. This is a development project entrusted to a foreign subcontractor and presumably funded by a first world country. America? Japan? Back in the 1990s, when Japan was the world’s greatest foreign aid donor, my ex-husband was part of a team like this. Funded by the Japanese government, he was hired by a Japanese subcontracting company to build schools and public toilets in Lesotho, in southern Africa. Everyone on the project was Japanese— many of them long-timers in Africa.

Imagine the Sudan. Imagine South Sudan. Imagine any failed country. Eggers does not give us too many clues other than to paint a picture of a place where rebels in mirrored sunglass drive around in chauffeured cars with gun-toting guards and no matter what question you ask you’ll never get a straight answer.

Four is tasked to man the gigantic paving machine, while Nine goes ahead to clear the path. Their only goal is to get the project finished on time. In twelve days, Four is told, the government has planned a great parade along the new road. A civil war has just ended, you see. And the parade is set to mark the occasion.

So, maybe hell is a failed state in Africa? Or is hell really the development aid project working there?

In Lesotho, the members of the team talked a lot about the futility of their work. I asked, “Wouldn’t it be better to help the people in Lesotho to build industries and gain know-how so they can build their own schools? Their own public toilets?”

“Of course, it would be better!” they replied. “All of this stuff we are giving them, the cars, the toilets, the buildings, will become junk if they don’t have local industries to make repairs and maintain the equipment.”

I wondered at the time, if more harm wasn’t being done than good. About ten years ago, esteemed economist Dambisa Moyo wrote the book Dead Aid: Why Aid Is Not Working and How There Is a Better Way for Africa. In the book she said that foreign aid to Africa has not only been a failure but that it is malignant. Nine and Four are guys just doing their job, sure. But do they really have any idea ‑ do they even care? ‑ about the consequences this road might bring?     

“Hurting themselves by harming others,” we know from reading Dante that those in hell choose to be there. Feckless and friendless, Eggers’s two characters seemingly live with a terrible void within themselves. With no sense of community, no overreaching authority or collective vision to make sense of things, they utterly fail to “get it”. It is an epic failure of imagination.

Ultimately a depressing book, some reviewers found The Parade unbearably cynical. But is it? Eggers, we know, has seen his fair share of Africa and foreign aid projects. He has travelled widely, not only in Sudan for his nonfiction book The Lost Boys of Sudan; but also extensively in Yemen, when he was working on his bestseller The Monk of Mokha. Eggers is known not only for his literary genius but for his charitable works as well. He is not a guy who just writes a cheque. He thinks about things deeply and acts accordingly.

In his literary style he is reminiscent of Haruki Murakami. That pristine style that will get under your skin in some uncomfortable ways. Reading The Parade, I kept thinking of Hannah Arendt’s description of the Nazi Eichmann. Painting him as a cog in the wheel, that was the banality of evil: its utter lack of imagination. In Murakami’s Kafka on the Shore, the librarian Oshima says it like this:

It's all a question of imagination. Our responsibility begins with the power to imagine … just like Yeats said: In dreams begin responsibilities.

Imagination is essential for human understanding and compassion. What Hannah Arendt taught us, however, is that this imagination must be collective. In her words, the human heart must go visiting, otherwise we lose our power to be moral. The ability to look at the world from another’s point of view in an imaginative way. Kant required this of us. And perhaps novels like The Parade and Kafka on the Shore help us to see it too. Even in times like our own, when we think “nothing will come of it”, now more than ever, novels like The Parade serve an important purpose. In allowing us to see the consequences of our failure of imagination, we see the harm that is not only done to others, but to our own selves as well.

1/3/2020

Leanne Ogasawara has worked as a translator from the Japanese for over twenty years. Her translation work has included academic translation, poetry, philosophy, and documentary film.
 

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A Plump Pillow

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First appeared in Dublin Review of Books on May 1, 2020--interesting correspondence ensued. 

The Pine Islands, by Marion Poschmann, Serpent’s Tail, 192 pp, £8.99, ISBN: 978-1788160926

A bewildering beginning. A German man has a dream that his wife is cheating on him. He wakes up enraged and boards a flight to Tokyo. Why? He has no idea. Arriving in Tokyo, he encounters a young man trying to commit suicide. The German man, Gilbert Silvester, is an adjunct professor, specialising in the religious significance of beards in art and film. Because of his occupation, he can’t help but notice the young man standing precariously on the edge of the train station platform ‑ not because the young man seems in peril but because he has prominent facial hair, something Gilbert did not expect to find in Japan. Striking up a conversation, he learns that the young man is trying to commit suicide. To distract him, Gilbert suggests a trip to find a more poetic place to die. And so, this odd couple embark on a journey north to Matsushima. 

People in Japan go to Matsushima for the scenery. Oysters too. But mostly it’s for the scenery. Countless pine-clad islands scattered around the bay make for an unforgettable sight. No less a figure than Matsuo Basho set off on his famous trip, recounted in The Narrow Road to the Deep North, because he “could hardly think of anything else but seeing the moon over Matsushima”. Basho travelled to Matsushima with his trusty companion Sora, much as Gilbert travels with Yosa Tomagotchi, the suicidal youth.

One of Japan’s “Three Fabled Views” (日本三景), Matsushima means “pine islands” in Japanese. Pines abound. And to see the moon shining down on the islands is something people dream of seeing someday. Over the centuries, many literary tropes evolved about the pines and the moon – and even today, Matsushima is considered to be one of the great “poetic places” of the country. Such poetic places are known, in Japanese, as utamakura (literally, “pillow poem”).

And this is a novel par excellence about utamakura.

With the suicidal youth in tow, Gilbert writes many emails and postcards to his wife, Matilda, back home. Probably realising that she has done nothing wrong ‑ or perhaps he simply has no one else to share things with – he writes to her about his impressions. Arriving in Matsushima, he tells her:

For centuries Japanese poets have taken pilgrimages to places of scenic allure, sought out wondrous places that are so inviting, so lovely, poems wish to settle in them. I too desired to seek out a place that so many others had visited in their travels. Matsushima, as they say, is a particularly plump pillow.

The Pine Islands illuminates the Japanese tradition of poets travelling to “pillow poem places” to write new poetry in communication with the poets who had gone there before them. And so Matsushima became the place of Basho and Sora, who themselves travelled in the literary footsteps of Saigyo, who wrote hundreds of years before them. Basho wrote poems alluding to Saigyo, of the moon and the bay and the pines ‑ but he also wrote in reference to famous lakes in China. In Japan, after all, the great explorers and travellers were great poets. And, each poet –as tradition demanded ‑ recognised the ancients, who travelled there before them, trying to put a little of themselves into this body of poetic “Matsushima”.

Columbia University professor of Japanese literature Haruo Shirane, in his book about Basho, Traces of Dreams, calls this the “poet as guest” and writes that “ … for Basho a poetic place existed both as a physical entity, to be personally viewed and closely observed, and as a medium for communing with the ancients, a means of exploring cultural memory”.

Matsushima is a place “plump with literary tropes”, or as Poschmann says, “a particularly plump pillow”.

Poschmann’s novel begins and ends in tropes. At first, it might be offputting to see all the usual suspects: of Japanese who don’t sweat and can’t grow beards, of suicide obsessions, and the inscrutable Japanese who bows and comes bearing tea. This stereotyping generated one bad review at the Asian Review of Books, not to mention some grumbling here and there online about the author’s orientalising. “How could this novel be shortlisted for the Man Booker International Prize, when there was so much wonderful work coming out of Japan in 2019?” people wondered. Two blogs mentioned Convenience Store Woman, by Sayaka Murata (and translated spectacularly by Ginny Tapley Takemori) as being a better candidate for the prize.

Like many people, I loved Convenience Store Woman and was similarly puzzled when I first started Pine Islands, but within a few dozen pages I became enthralled by Poschmann’s gorgeous lyrical prose, not to mention her sense of humour. The book is funny. I wondered if it isn’t even more humorous in German. This could begin to explain the tropes. Because as inscrutable and beardless as our Japanese youth appears (it’s true, his beard is a fake), so too is our German researcher straight out of central casting. Always taking himself so very seriously, he is sure of his educated opinions, perfectly shined shoes, and his cultural preference for coffee over tea.

And yet, despite his perceived cultural superiority, the guy gets everything so wrong. (I am not just talking about Matilda either.)

Written by a well-known German poet, The Pine Islands is a poetic novel that is not just about poetry but is filled with poems. As they journey north, Gilbert and Yosa write haiku. Poschmann handles this wonderfully, as the novel is dotted with numerous haiku, written not just by Gilbert and Yosa ‑ she has also reworked Basho’s original words so they sit more harmoniously within the work. As a translator, I must sing the praises of the novel’s translator, Jen Calleja, who has created a fantastic work in English. Not surprisingly, she also has a poetry collection out. The poems, the walking in the footsteps of Basho, the disjointed feeling of being a foreigner “lost in translation” in Japan ‑ all this works so beautifully in this gem-like novel.

In the end, why do any of us do what we do? Most people I suppose do what they are supposed to do, what society or their parents or spouse tells them they need to be doing. But isn’t there also the pull of irrational forces? In the novel, we have two people who have fallen through the cracks of their own lives. And in the effort to find themselves again they embark on a journey. Like Basho before him, and Saigyo before him, Gilbert travels to Matsushima to see the pine trees and commune with ancient poets.

People in Germany would not travel so far just to see a tree, he remarks. In Germany, educated people like himself travel for cultural enrichment. To watch the news every night to gather information about scattering cherry blossoms and “filigreed leaves” –much less for a lowly conifer tree ‑ seemed to him like a useless custom. But by the end, he is hooked. Basho famously was so overcome by the beauty of Matsushima that he was unable to write a poem. Our “hero” not only writes his poems, but in the process is able to fall in love with life again.

1/5/2020

Leanne Ogasawara has worked as a translator from the Japanese for over twenty years. Her translation work has included academic translation, poetry, philosophy, and documentary film.

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On Quijotismo

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(Published in the Dublin Review of Books 1/1/20)

On Quijotismo
Leanne Ogasawara

Quichotte, by Salman Rushdie, Jonathan Cape, £20, 416 pp, ISBN: 978-1787331921

IMG_2514The story of Don Quixote never gets old. First published (Book One, that is) in 1605, Cervantes’s novel continually makes the list of the greatest books of all time, being the second most translated after the Bible. In 2002, the Norwegian Academy of Science and Letters asked a hundred authors across the world to name their choice for “best novel” of all time: Cervantes won in a landslide. Considered by many people to be “the first modern novel”, it is a story of a man’s search for truth. It is also hilariously funny. I was not surprised to learn that it is one of the most requested books by the inmates at Guantánamo.

As if reading the Quixote is not enough, there is also a long list of works that have been created over the centuries in direct homage to it. Most famous are Flaubert’s Madame Bovary and Dostoevsky’s The Idiot, both being intentional retellings of the story. But there are also more indirect, but still consciously influenced, works, like Kafka’s story “The Truth about Sancho Panz”a and GK Chesterton’s The Return of Don Quixote, not to mention pretty much everything Milan Kundera ever wrote. There is Jorge Luis Borges’s short story “Pierre Menard, Author of the Quixote”. My own favorite is Graham Greene’s Monsignor Quixote, about a priest in a small town in La Mancha, who claims he is a descendant of the famous knight errant, never mind that all his friends remind him that Don Quixote was a fictional character. Beyond literature, we have Massenet’s opera Don Quichotte and Petipa’s ballet Don Quixote, as well as Telemann’s marvellous Don Quixote Suite.

Salman Rushdie’ s new novel, Quichotte, is only the latest in the four-hundred-year-long history of Quixote spin-offs. Not only influenced by the original, Rushdie makes great use of some of many of the spin-offs. In particular, Massenet’s opera looms large. Other more recent works include the famous American musical The Man from La Mancha and a film by Terry Gilliam, The Man Who Killed Don Quixote (2018). In philosophy, none other than Michel Foucault took on the Quixote in his The Order of Things. The list goes on and on.

Mexican writer Ilan Stavans wrote an entire book, Quixote: The Novel and the World, to chronicle the varied artistic worlds influenced by the work. As one reviewer put it, “Stavan’s book begins with an asteroid and ends in a Japanese convenience store, both named for one of literature’s greatest characters.” It’s not surprising that an asteroid has been named after the hero, but did you know that one of Japan’s largest discount chain stores is called Don Quijote? Charmingly, it is often shortened to “donki”.

So what is it, then, to be a work influenced by Don Quixote? There is an adjective in Spanish, quijotismo, that perfectly captures this idea. In the same way that machismo denotes “being manly”, quijotismo suggests a style of behaviour that is “being like Quixote.” This could mean someone who is merely quixotic, refusing to take as real what the rest of society claims to be the truth; or it can mean a person who will sacrifice everything for the dream of helping others. For a person suffering from a kind of quijotismo, the world ‑ which we try to understand through the stories we tell about it ‑ is broken, as it has been countless times before. The story of the world no longer makes sense. Into this broken world comes a dreamer, who makes up a better story. He refuses to accept the world as it is, because it is not true, and he (or in the case of Madame Bovary “she”) suffers because of it, comically and tragically. The world keeps trying to knock sense into the hero by clobbering him with new, surprising situations and challenges, but he perseveres. He makes a new world, but this world is evanescent. Quixote was not the first, but remains the best example (at least in art) of this kind of dreamer.

FullSizeRender.jpgIn Cervantes’s novel, the hero has famously lost his wits. This is due to his brain drying up from reading too many romances. Chivalric romances were the Dan Brown thrillers and James Bond spy novels of their day, popular but not necessarily thought to be good for the brain. Extremely tall and gangly (like an elongated figure in an El Greco painting, according to Rushdie), the Don sets out with his sidekick, Sancho, a short, chubby peasant who somehow gets bamboozled into accompanying the errant knight on his quest. This odd couple sallies forth tilting at windmills and pursuing the love of the princess, Dulcinea (in reality a homely peasant girl).

In Rushdie’s novel, Don Quixote appears in the guise of an Indian pharmaceuticals salesman of an advanced age. Tall and gaunt, Quichotte spends his days watching a lot of TV. From zombie serials to daytime talk shows; from The Real Housewives of Orange County to those of New Jersey, it is nonstop television – all resulting in a severe softening of his mind. There is also an “Interior Event” (capitalised in the novel) that remains hinted at until the end. It is this mental impairment that explains what is to come. Taking to the road (in his Chevrolet Cruze), with an imaginary son (whom he names Sancho), Quichotte embarks on a quest to win the heart of his princess; a celebrity TV personality and former Bollywood movie star named Salma R.

It gets stranger still. In Cervantes, part way through Book One, we suddenly have the narrative rug pulled out from beneath us when we learn that the hero of the story, Don Quixote, is the literary creation of a certain Moorish writer, Cide Hamete Benengeli. The novel’s narrator explains that he happened upon an interesting-looking Arabic language manuscript at a bookstall in Toledo and decided to have it translated into Spanish. The novel we readers now hold in our hands, we are told, was created from this translation.

Cervantes uses this stunning metafictional device not just to undermine literary truth in the novel but to question the notions of truth and common sense society holds ‑ and, it must be said, absolute truth in general. The device is taken up with gusto in Rushdie’s Quichotte, in which we also learn part-way into the novel that the hero that we had believed to be “real” is actually an imaginary literary character who has been created by the novel’s protagonist, Sam DuChamp.

FullSizeRender-28Jorge Luis Borges admired this early example of experimental writing and returned to the novel Don Quixote over and over again –in stories, essays, and poems. Taking Cervantes’s lead, Borges also experimented in work that engaged in a playful questioning of something Karl Popper called “the myth of the framework”. The idea, better developed by Martin Heidegger, in his Being and Time, and Thomas Kuhn, in his Scientific Revolutions, is that what we see as “the real world” is no more than a shared cultural, linguistic and ideological framework by which we interpret things. This framework informs not only how we interpret experiences, but frames perception itself. Caltech historian Nicolás Wey Gόmez tells the students in his Don Quixote class that this grid of meaning is like the “rules of the world”. And he tells his students that “Cervantes gives us a fiction. But he also always gives us the rules.” And once you have rules, you can break them.

In his novel, Rushdie makes great use of the trope of mirrors (for what else is this thing we call reality but a mirror?). This leads to themes of interpretative lenses, shards of reality and broken glass. This quote below comes early in the novel and sets the tone of what is to come in the pages ahead:

Such broken families may be our best available lenses through which to view this broken world. And inside the broken families are broken people, broken by loss, poverty, maltreatment, failure, age, sickness, pain, and hatred, yet trying in spite of it all to cling to hope and love, and these broken people ‑ we the broken people! ‑ may be the best mirrors of our times, shining shards that reflect the truth, wherever we travel, wherever we land, wherever we remain …

The broken world of America in 2019, says Rushdie, is one of terrible income inequality, of predatory Big Pharma (OxyContin and Fentanyl), of gun culture, of police violence against people of colour. Dead school kids, hurricanes, perpetual war, people going bankrupt because they don’t have healthcare, a population rendered into producers/consumers 24/7. And don’t get him started on the perils of the Internet. And to hear Rushdie tell it, things are even worse back on the sub-continent.

But the Spain of Cervantes time was also broken. Like America, it was an outlier. A declining empire. A place of “haves” and “have nots,” a country that was brutally cruel to those people seen as undesirables: Jews, Moors and peasants. You had an all-powerful monarchy and a church that refused to keep in step with the times. Resolutely medieval, while neighbouring lands were getting Enlightenment philosophy and starting a monetary banking system ‑ Spain even had its own Inquisition (the Roman version, it seems, was not enough) The Don in Cervantes’s novel was a struggling hidalgo (gentleman). Nobility, yes, but lower nobility. Cash-strapped and lacking in skills, he didn’t have a lot of choices.

Cervantes lived a life like few novelists before or after. He fought at the battle of Lepanto, where his left hand was permanently damaged in the fighting. His heroic service that day earned for him several letters of commendation; one being from the commander “his serene highness” Don Juan of Austria himself. Unfortunately, these letters were on his person when he was captured by Barbary pirates and taken hostage to Algiers. His new master, believing him to be a man of great value because of these letters, set an exorbitant ransom, prolonging his captivity to five hopeless years.

FullSizeRender-4Cornell historian María Antonia Garcés wrote a book about Cervantes’s years in captivity, Cervantes in Algiers. Disabled on his release, it must have been hard for him to return home. Things that he once thought as being obvious or natural no longer felt that way, and he must have questioned everything. Had the world changed that much? Or was it only Cervantes who had changed? Garcés demonstrates how the author confronted his experiences by pitting all manner of preconceived notions and narratives against each other in his novel–even calling into question the act ‑through the use of the metafictional devices ‑ of storytelling itself.

Is Don Quixote mad or is the world mad? This is something the readers of the novel have pondered for over four hundred years. One of the most eye-opening techniques that Cervantes uses to highlight the role of narratives in our lives is “interruptions”, the disorienting moment when the story you think you are living is abruptly (and capriciously) replaced by a new one. Rushdie, in his two most recent novels before Quichotte, Two Years Eight Months and Twenty-Eight Nights (2015) and Golden House (2017), has been focusing on the brokenness of the world. Like Cervantes, he portrays this brokenness by capturing the dislocation of people caught between worlds, often traumatised immigrants watching their framework fracture. History has suggested that when a tipping point has been reached in any society ‑ when the centre can no longer hold ‑ disruptors will appear on the scene. The story we inhabit is interrupted. The danger is that while game-changers can be good they can also be bad, as recent political events are showing.

IMG_3528Both Descartes and Cervantes were interested in the notion of being “bewitched”. In this state of slumber, we do not question “the world”, instead accepting everything as being “reality”. The rules of our problematic world are built into the very language we use to talk about it, trapping us, unless we break out of our own narrative prisons. Interruptions can begin to distance us from the current narrative. We see that at play as Rushdie’s Quichotte is fired and takes to the road to travel an America where he no longer feels he belongs. Faced with racism and anti-immigrant violence, he begins to question not just his place in this new world, but the world itself. The OxyContin epidemic becomes a skin-crawling case study of what is going wrong in our world. After all, Quichotte is an ex-BigPharma salesman ‑ and his beloved Salma is an addict.

Cervantes’s Don Quixote was ultimately about a man who steps out of the matrix. Tilting at windmills, on a quest for a princess, he appears crazy ‑ and he forces us to consider that maybe it is we who are crazy. This is why Don Quixote has remained a hero for four centuries ‑ and to some, like Miguel de Unamuno, he is a Christ figure, come to save us all. The Quixote is ‑ above all ‑ says Ilan Stavans, a quest to heal the world. And Rushdie delivers on this. More than Flaubert and more than Greene, Rushdie has beautifully captured what was so world-changing about the novel of 1612: this quest to right wrongs and fight for the impoverished. A search for healing and wholeness, the quest ends in Rushdie’s novel — not surprisingly ‑ in a love story.

1/1/2020

Leanne Ogasawara has worked as a translator from the Japanese for over twenty years. Her translation work has included academic translation, poetry, philosophy, and documentary film.

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