The Gu Family Book-Of Mythical Beings, Love and Other Dramas

Of late I've been watching one Korean drama after the other. The latest one is Gu Family Book.



A mythical guardian of a mountain sees a damsel in distress. The immortal chooses to become mortal so that he may love and be loved by the human woman. Tragedy ensues. But that is just the beginning for a child has been conceived and this serial deals with his life. History repeats itself. Love and tragedy are framed within a complex web of stories, yet the threads are rich with humour and the triumph of good.

With 24 episodes, I've still a lot to watch but at Episode 9, I'm glued and ever eager to get to watch the next one.

I do hope Indian Television will start broadcasting Korean films and dramas. Not only are they enjoyable and more so given the similarities in culture but they are also less laced with poisonous versions of reality such as we see in the few "foreign" shows available on Indian TV.

Exposure to Korean dramas will also improve the quality of Indian serials which, so far, seem to continue to reflect a twisted face of our realities. Without plagiarism, what should emerge from such a relationship is a richer stock of stories and better technical skills.

Korean dramas display a refined sense of moral values, including family values, on the one hand, and on the other, they manifest a concern for good government. To be able to do these heavy duties and provide ace entertainment is indeed laudable.   

Theroux's Sunrise with Seamonsters: An enchanting introduction to English Literature, random authors, Theroux and other demons

Long long ago, I used to enjoy Paul Theroux. And then I chose not to read him and others who view the world as through a film of scum. He is, undeniably,  among those living authors whose works can be classified as Literature. Yet, like many such of these times, or, actually of a certain chunk of history, he manages, mostly, to leave one feeling distinctly soiled, leaves that which he writes about, tainted.

It was a random pick when I was in a bit of a hurry, that left me reading Sunrise with Seamonsters.

This is a book I would choose if I were to give one class on English literature. Theroux's pieces, of which this book is a collection, deal, as we are wont to expect from him, with his travels, on the one hand: Burma, Malaysia, Africa and India, among other places, lands he has traveled or lived in.

On the other side, the book has outstanding essays on authors like R L Stevenson and Henry James, to mention a few. One of my favourite chapters concerns the time he met Naipaul and how the latter became his mentor, in a way. I later found, by surfing the Internet, that they had a major feud along the way. So, this book is a great read for anyone who enjoys English language literature and a painless way for the amateur litterateur to acquire some knowledge about the great authors of that genre.

An added bonus is his splendid though sometimes noxious style. Little wonder that he chose to look upon Naipaul as a guru! And it is this trait which, of course, made the Singapore Government wary of him.

It's a delightfully gossipy and irreverent way to learn something of how famous authors, including Theroux, write, how they live and how the mighty can be flighty or just plain petty.

This is an excellent book for the traveler, the student of English and American literature, the reader who enjoys fine writing laced with piquant spice and anyone who enjoys a good  read.

Me, Amelie Nothomb and Other Japanese Dramas

Given my attention deficit disorder when reading or watching movies or serials, I must confess that Stupeur et tremblements has held me in thrall so far. I am not in a stupour when I read Amelie's entertaining story but I do kind of quiver with amusement. Each line draws such a caricatural vision of a French woman trapped in a nightmare world of Japanese enterprise. It strikes a familiar chord in me as I have had close encounters with the sort of experiences about which she writes. This is surely also true for many other Indians who live largely via their English language (or other European language) selfs. For those of us who live this schizoid life, our own cultures are inscrutable to us many a time.

Almost every Indian who lives this duality feels faced with insanity when dealing with various situations in India. And often we apologise to visiting Westerners when we perceive their exasperation at the "mysterious" behaviours often encountered in India.

In the book, for example, the young lady is made to perform mindless chores and is humiliated at every turn. The person she considers to be friendly is actually her worst enemy. I recall experiencing a lot of bewilderment when I was a school teacher in India briefly as I often failed to process what I found to be very strange behaviour from other teachers. There are ever so many pecking orders, a lot of intrigue and most of it is processed via some prior socialisation that does not take place overtly. Indian bureaucracy is still strongly capable of confusing many (sometimes even those who are in on this phenomenon).

In more than this do I empathise with the heroine. Take for example the trouble she has in copying figures from a sheet on to the computer. I will, exactly like her, commit many mistakes. My mind freezes when it beholds numbers. But, for all that, I will look forwards to a chance to visit Japan. I will crave Japanese friends. And, for the moment, for want of all that, I have discovered a taste for Japanese dramas.

Although I have watched a few Japaneses films earlier  it is only now that I have broached the dramas. I'm well into Bull Doctor, a series about forensics with two very strong female leads. I'm also thoroughly enjoying Gyne which as the name implies is about gynecology. Both far outrank House and other so called Medical TV serials that I've seen.

And in viewing these, I find myself at odds with Mlle Nothomb. It is so easy for me to follow the cultural subtleties these dramas portray. This is, obviously, not a world in which Mlle Nothomb would feel comfortable. She and her ilk perhaps think they invented the world and its cultures. Yet I will not condemn her and will hasten to recommend Stupeur et Tremblements as a very good read. Especially for those who cherish the special brand of French humour. 

Alas that more Indians who reach this blog entry will turn to her book than to the dramas for we are still, for the most part of the population who easily interacts with the world beyond our borders, schizoid: the deeper being has cultural resonance with other countries which were once colonies of Europe and the external interactive being is conditioned to think that it vibes with the people on the shows one catches on Star World and the like.