Looking to the East

One result of my trip to China last September was that my radar now sweeps over stories from that general direction with more regularity. Admittedly, I don't know if I understand more about China or just find myself wanting to read loads more about what's going on there. Regardless, I'll offer up a few curious stories seen over the last handful of days. If you're like me and you hold onto the hope of better understanding what's going on across the globe, these stories might help a wee bit.

The burgeoning love for status symbols in China has made it a coveted market for selling those goods. The NYTimes ran what I saw as a fascinating story Monday on the crazed expansion in the Chinese market for fashion magazines. They're mainly a vehicle for ads promoting luxury goods (a category of consumption that's exploding in China). "Elle" now runs over 700 pages. Other issues have been added or they split them into two. And they're expensive. Can you imagine spending over $3 a pop per throwaway mag when you make a bit more than $700 a month? It does fall in line with a culture that I saw openly embracing designer labels - not cheap knock-offs - where the idea of spending a few grand on a real bag is justifiable. Buried deep in this piece is the observation that this whole game could evaporate in a moment if the economy slows and how even the fashion mags need to steer clear of censors.

The Ai Weiwei story continues to evolve. Last week's announcement of his lost appeal on those trumped up tax penalties was more bad news for this artist after a long run of similarly unfair targeting. He's like an aging heavyweight boxer - I often don't know how he can keep getting back up to fight again after all the punishment he's been taking. Ai's latest rejected appeal feels like another punch in the gut. This man shows how even the most powerful artist still can't expect to exercise truly free expression in an evolving China. The hooks from this story are in deep for many of us, all around the world. To fill in much more backstory, I found much to marvel at in the profile over the weekend of the young American documentarian - Alison Klayman. Her film "Never Sorry" focuses Ai and has been on my "must see" list for months. I, for one, am glad Klayman was there to film and stuck it out for as long as she did to do so.

Another interesting tidbit I wish I'd known about when I visited last fall is a bookstore in Hong Kong that specializes in the books Beijing doesn't want the Chinese to see. Apparently there's enough banned books to fill a whole store. The fact that they can operate there after the handover is certainly a bright spot. And with the number of Chinese traveling from the mainland to Hong Kong more than doubling in the last five years (from 13-ish million to 28-ish from 2006 to 2011), there's a growing audience for it. Baby steps, people. But steps, nonetheless.

Daisey on the Shame Chain

Near the end of last week, I'd wanted to weigh in here on the cancellation of HBO's "Luck" - the ending of which was directly caused by accidents that led to three horses being euthanized during filming. The story leading up to the plug being pulled on "Luck" had me intrigued because it allowed for a curious peek inside the chasm between PETA and the American Humane Society. But I was also drawn to the evolving intrigue around this horsey story because I just plain love(d) the show. It seems that I'm one of the few who saw the snap once again in David Milch's writing and the conflict-heavy brilliance possible inside the world of racing. As luck would have it, we hit the road last Thursday for a long weekend in the Bay Area. A nice big chunk of which for me meant getting back to the satisfying face-to-face work of research in the field as it relates to much grander narrative ambitions. As has been the case up to now and will still be going forward until such time as having some announcements to make, I don't talk about sources. In effect, this blog parses out parts of the story of a story in progress. Things that interest me as I go along get sporadically posted here - all, hopefully, related to the broader theme. I make up my own rules, but they adhere somewhat to a basic sensibility - I'm not doing journalism, but I treat the people I speak with as if I am doing so. Then something happened over the weekend which made me do a full stop as a small storm of pseudo-journalistic inappropriateness rumbled over the horizon.

"This American Life" ran its "Retraction" of Mike Daisey being featured on their show in January of this year (the most popular episode in their history dating back to the mid-90s). In that original airing, Daisey excerpted and repackaged parts of his stage performance "The Agony and the Ecstasy of Steve Jobs". I wish Daisey's mistake and the subsequent reaction didn't belong to an entire category of such trainwreck stories. James Frey and Greg Mortensen (to name just the most obvious two) have already primed the memory pump. Yet to hear Daisey being interviewed by Ira Glass about the way he outright lied and spun the truth and bent over backwards to lump together an otherwise compelling story about the supply chain for Apple products manufactured in China is to hear a man's reputation come crashing down around him in pieces. I was stunned. I was saddened. I was impressed by "This American Life" immensely yet again. I thought about my own time in China last fall "reporting" for my own book. And I'm still thinking about what it means if someone with a mission to tell a larger truth gets caught with even a few lies mixed into the work.

I can't help but think of my own work and a conversation I continually have (both with myself and others) about the way in which I am pursuing this project. I believe it is possible to write a book that is somewhere between "journalism" and "memoir" - a book that bridges bookstores categories that run from "history" to "current affairs" to the full range of indie bookseller classifications that encompass "animal rights" and "nature" and "politics and culture". In fact, I've been spending a great deal of time lately thinking about just that - if the bridge between categories is something appropriate to use when writing a book. Mike Daisey's experience (and that of Frey and Mortensen and countless others who've seemingly ambled down this same road where they feel like the rules don't apply to them) is very much on my mind today. Whatever happens to him hereafter, I think a lesson might be applicable for all sorts of writers. I think it could be summed up as follows:

If you tweak the truth, someone will follow up and find it. Period. Luck has nothing to do with it.

Look who's rootin' for Putin - China

The amount of Putin prognasticating by the world's media will surely surge in the upcoming weeks. Russia's first round of the Presidential process comes on March 4th. If he gets more than 50%, Putin wins another term. Which I think means the world will be shuffling through their papers to see what that means for their relationship(s) with Russia. Yawn. I was, however, surprised by one story that showed up in my inbox this morning. China - here using an anecdotal sliver of their manufacturing and retail economy - is obviously rootin' for Putin to take charge once more. As related to my book, I spent a day in the particular area of Beijing being discussed in this piece. During that tiny nutshell moment, I could hardly believe the open and vital connection between Russian buyers and Chinese business. I saw the crowds (far sparser than what gets the drive-by in this piece - but it was just one day). And they were made up of what I characterized as thick-necked, old-school guys holding the burgeoning shopping bags of their over-dressed, cartoonishly-augmented wives/girlfriends/chattel out shopping for luxury goods in Beijing this past September. If Putin wins, the Chinese obviously hope those touring shoppers from the increasingly affluent upper tiers of new Russia will come in greater numbers. In that and maybe all things, all politics is local. Even when weirdly geopolitical, apparently.

High-speed trains and Buicks - more alike than we realize.

Two stories regarding China once again caught my eye. Funny how that happens after a visit when you fall under the spell of a place, isn't it?

First up, the high speed rail system between Beijing and Shanghai is supposedly all good to go once again. Whether or not anything has been re-engineered following the collision that killed 43 people back in July is an open question. For a nation that plans to build thousands of miles of new high-speed track by 2015, getting that system back on track has to be a nerve-wracking story for a whole lot of people.

Secondly, the explosion in car sales in China is unavoidable if you just look around the streets there. Oops, maybe that's a crude word choice to follow up a train crash story. Still, the Chinese love their cars. And they also apparently love to categorize those newly-coveted cars. A Mercedes, apparently, equals an old fart. An Audi means "bureaucrat", so just get the hell out of the way if you see one. I'm sure there are others - the handful of ridiculous Lotuses and Lambourghinis I saw speeding around the cities certainly indicate a very particular kind dickish customer. But where I was surprised in this piece was in the news that one of the hottest luxury car lines in China is actually the Buick - the oldest American car maker, and one that's recently even been dissed by GM's execs. Nevermind that Buick is also partly the namesake (derived from a favorite Midwestern cliche') of my prior blog. Buick's back, baby. At least on the streets of Beijing. I don't know why, but that makes me happy.

Updates and innovations - Ai Weiwei, DRCs, and a Kindle "eureka!" moment

Expect more check-backs like this from time to time:

- I've written about my interest in the case of Ai Weiwei in China. I'm certainly not alone. Enough donations have flooded in (nearly $1.4M) that an appeal of his ridiculous, intimidating tax bill ($2.4M) should be possible. Not surprisingly, the complexity of Chinese bureaucracy makes things far from transparent and new roadblocks have emerged. I'm still fascinated by this artist and the emerging showdown between his hilariously named design firm (Beijing Fake Cultural Development Ltd.) and the Government. If you don't see it elsewhere, please expect that I will keep you posted when things catch my eye as the plot continues to thicken.
- I've gotten my first digital review copy (DRC) for a book coming out in January. Big shout out to Edelweiss (a preview and catalog service operated by Above the Treeline) for seeing fit to tag me as...I don't know what. A book reviewer? Book blogger, maybe. Writer with way too many distractions? All of the above, in fits and starts. Regardless, my first effort in this realm of read/absorb/review will wrap back around (at least somewhat) on the larger canvas I'm working on. I promise.
-As an important aside, my Kindle has just knocked my proverbial socks off. The struggle for a coexistence between the digital and the dead tree in publishing is a well-worn, expanding trope. But when these tools aid in the access to books that can then benefit both sides of that divide, the results are pretty darn nifty.

Keeping an eye on China's "hooligan" artists

One probably inevitable takeaway from my recent trip to China is the desire to know how artists there deal with censorship. Keeping tabs on that could become a full time job. I'm sure there are many, many others doing a much better job at it than I ever could. But as a casual observer with a newly calibrated radar when it comes to China, I'm fascinated by two stories. One ongoing, one recently brought to my attention. Both showed up in the NYTimes yesterday. The ongoing and quite famous one is the struggle of Ai Weiwei - the larger than life multiform artist who's bearing the brunt of the Chinese government's crackdown on expression that runs afoul of their official interests. Weiwei's been jailed, his studios have been raided, and now he's facing a massive tax penalty meant to scare him. Or much worse. The latest update for Weiwei showed how the public is stepping up - often anonymously - to help him pay the $2.4M tax bill that was plopped on him after being released from a murky, intimidating stint in jail. New developments seem to come every day with regard to Weiwei's plight. Reporting on him is a cottage industry for journalists and activists world wide. But the other piece on yesterday's front page really peeled back the layers on what writers confront when they try to write original work in China. If you're even slightly interested in the massive expansion of publishing in China, this piece is an introduction with more context than I've seen on this subject. The writer Murong Xuecun sounds like a old school Beat writer with huge, ultra-modern exposure. He's swimming against a current that we can't even imagine here. Utterly amazing reporting. A must read for anyone who ever hopes to sell a single copy of any book in China. Myself included.

Wrapping a neat little bow around China? Good luck with that.

I still have to look back at my last - and probably favorite - part of the ten days I spent in China. Hong Kong. I got just a taste - delivered in a whirlwind of exploration and not much sleep. But it was enough to amp up my sense of urban life halfway across the world. I was completely caught off guard by how much I loved the blend of East and West there. This part of my tour was really only about exploring - not the spoon fed exposure to this business I'm researching. So I could just soak up tiny bit of a city that has blended East and West into a fascinating stew.

But since my return to Seattle and the dozens of conversations both large and small about this trip to China, I'm finding it hard to wrap a bow around it. Without giving away everything I've been working on for Pelting Out - please bear in mind that this blog is meant to slowly let out some line on the reel that is a big book project. A few nights ago I talked with one of my best friends about the broad arc of all this - China, writing a non-fiction book when fiction's been the gig for so long, how it feels to be an American overseas these days. This friend has always been one of my most unflinching, spot-on sounding boards. And as such, he made me think about what any of us know about China - those who've been fortunate enough to visit, those who complain about their rise, those who couldn't care less about the subject. I found us debating whether there's a historical comparison for China's rise. Maybe you've got one, but we came up bupkis. So rather than look for a big summarizing construct...I'm done with the China shtick in this forum. For the time being. But not before I lay out a few of the things I did in Hong Kong that so entirely entertained me for that brief recent period.

I jostled my way around the subway system. I saw how people congregate downtown on a Sunday, with crowds of what appear to be foreign-born women dancing in the street and throughout Statue Park. I braved the crowds to ride the Peak Tram (the world's steepest funicular rail line) up to Victoria Peak. I tried not to interrupt morning exercises of all kinds in Kowloon Park. I wandered the Night Markets. I got chops made for family - carved marble ink stamps with Chinese characters spelling out our Western names phonetically that are used to accompany signatures. I took an amazing ferry cruise not just through Victoria Harbor and back, but all the way out to Lamma Island for a seafood dinner. I even got a full clinic on using chopsticks correctly - an embarrassing but validating discovery during an incredible three-hour dinner seated next to a friendly local who wasn't the least bit afraid of pointing out that my technique needed tweaking.

After all that and much more than you surely care to read, I came back to Seattle. Sated, challenged, and armed with stories and pictures and impressions I'm obviously still sorting my way through. Do I want to go back? Absolutely. But for the time being, I've got fish much closer to home to catch and season for serving. Thanks for reading. If you check back, I promise there will be more (and less - shorter entries hereafter) that I hope proves tasty. All heading in the general direction of a much larger project. Or so I keep telling myself.

Looking back at Beijing

Well, the whole "follow me as I tour my way through China" plan didn't exactly work out as planned. Sorry 'bout that. Funny thing about government censorship. It's not really a big deal for most of us. Yet when it affects something you care about, the insidiousness proves irksome.

So instead I'll now embark on a recap of my ten days in Beijing, Shanghai and Hong Kong. Ten days isn't much time at all to get acquainted with such a vast and fascinating new place. I did, however, pay close attention and what I've got to work through in my own writing might offer a bit of perspective for others who are also trying to assess  the world's increasingly eastward tilt. Or at least I'll get a bit of what I'd intended to say out there, and do the ol' end around on those short-sighted Chinese censors. That'll show 'em.

For today, look to Bejing. Cooler than freon city. The run-up to the Olympics in 2008 turned over the landscape to historic dimensions. From what I heard repeatedly, residents are still trying to assess just how many changes occurred. Whole neighborhoods were razed for aesthetic considerations. The high gloss buffed onto Beijing for that brief fortnight has mostly dulled into a collection of so-so venues in an otherwise roiling landscape of growth and renewal. Walking around the Bird's Nest (the main Olympics stadium venue) a day after strolling through the Forbidden City put obvious bookends on the new and old for me. As it surely has for millions of others. Still, I was more struck by the contrasts between the meandering alleys (called hutongs) and the luxury goods retailers. Where else can you see people burning trash in the gutter alongside the same street where you can go window shop for Ferraris and Lambourghinis? The contrasts abound. One evening I passed by a bustling Starbucks nestled into the same lakeside strolling district in the Houhai neighborhood where I got solicited repeatedly with the catch phrase of "lady bar", just before wandering the dimly lit hutongs looking for a place appropriately called No Name Bar. Whipsawed forward and back between eras, it all works. Add in countless bits of unintended street theatre, deep deep history and a feeling of being surrounded but completely safe. I know I saw little more than a passing moment when I was in Beijing. A tripwire moment that I'll look to for years to come for when I started paying serious attention to the new edge being cut there.

For tomorrow, I'll touch on what I saw still in the north of China, but outside of Beijing. Along with elements seen as a part of my tour - the reason for my being there, in the first place. 

Some days do turn out right as rain

I can't say I was surprised by a piece about the growing "luxury goods" tourists coming to Europe from China. They want quality, they've got the money, they'll go to the source. Personally, I'm planning to head to the Temple Street Night Market in Hong Kong at the very end of my ten days in China to find an especially interesting fake watch or three. For this guy, quality isn't really the point. I'm talking character. Somewhat different is the consideration I made earlier today in terms of gifts to bring with me to China. Just in case, I'm thinking. I've read a bit on gift-giving etiquette and I thought I had the right idea. Nothing too extravagant. Maybe something with a story attached. So I thought - small writing journals. I then thought - made here in the good ol' US of A. Not to be obsessed about it, but handing someone in China a lit'l something that turns out was actually made in their own country seems, well, about as special as a kiss from your sister. At the University Bookstore near U-Dub, I found the perfect brand. Made in Tacoma, designed to be used outside in the rain. Named "Rite in the Rain" with yellow - or YELL-ow! - covers on a full spectrum of notebook styles. As someone who's always found the Reporter's Notebook to be a simply-awesome, surely-dated-but-who-cares tool, I've found my new favorite Washington State gifts producer. The Chinese can have their Louis Vuitton runs through Paris. I'll take my paper chase right here in the (general) 'hood. I'll keep you posted on whether those I give these puppies to feel the same way. Trust me - they're awesome.

Until the next page turns...may your little soccer player follow practice by consuming a monster dinner, washing her hair, reading you a book and turning out the light without complaint on your last night before a big trip. I'm a very lucky Dad, indeed.

Who's "playing" who in this lottery?

I don't expect anyone will learn much from the details of prepping for my trip to China. But maybe someone will see something worth relating to in a totally random moment from my life earlier today. Admittedly, I don't do lotteries. I'm one of the few people on the planet who hasn't even bought a single ticket. Ever. Maybe I'm just waiting for an indescribably lucky feeling that will probably never come. I did, however, have the unique, confusing pleasure of cashing in a ticket today. It came by way of my father-in-law, who has a foolproof manner of playing the occasional lottery. When he'd visited Seattle in May, he employed his system. To the tune of a hunnerd simoleons. A Benjamin. One. Hundred. Bucks. The ticket was handed over to me during our recent visit to California to cash-out prior to the six-month deadline that such tickets apparently have. Without prompting, I chose a 7-Eleven relatively close to us. Thus far, no big surprises. I tried to even act like I knew what went down in this transaction. That's when it got weird. The lottery machine wouldn't read the ticket. The clerk called in a second opinion from the back room. Around the time I felt sure that I was being punked for not knowing some sort of secret handshake, the stars aligned and they saw that I was indeed a winner. The fact that I was due $100 was greeted with disbelief. Disappointment. No dropping balloons or even so much as a mumbled "congrats". I was instead asked if I had "any shopping to do". While the thought of approximately 100 Slim Jims or a massive pile of sudoku puzzle books and microwave pizzas should have come to mind, I answered truthfully. Who, after all, has ever spent $100 in a 7-Eleven without first spending at least an entire evening at a frat party? I then realized the reason for their flummoxed reaction - the drawer couldn't cover my winnings. What to do? To my great surprise, the second man took out his wallet. From what looked to be an entirely healthy wad unless you were trying to find a comfortable seated position on the outmatched wallet meant to contain it, he pulled out five crisp twenties. I innately took the money and signed nothing. I didn't even fold it, choosing instead to just shove it in my pocket like an undelivered short stack of Chinese take-out menus and hightail it for my car. I even checked my rearview mirror on the way out of the parking lot, vaguely convinced that something criminal had just occurred. The point being - will I ever "play the lottery" again? No way, man. I'm out of that game. Well, at least until the next time my father-in-law comes through town.

Until the next page turns...may your own late-ish night visit to REI have you first taking the time to offer humble sympathies at Espresso Vivace. Brian is already missed by so many.

Which NFL authentic jersey would you wear to Fashion Week?

I've never been to Fashion Week. Any of them, anywhere - New York, Milan, Paris, Dubuque, Ulan Bator. Not that I'm unfashionable. I'll happily brag that my wife relies heavily upon me to make the call between prospective outfits she's contemplating. My skills are largely those of a fashion idiot savant, with the equivalent assurance of any former speechwriter currently working as a pundit for FOX News. But I'm now paying more attention thanks to my research for Pelting Out. Would I have gone to Anna Wintour's brainchild shoppanal - Fashion's Night Out 2011 - last night in NYC? Yes, I think I would have braved the crowds. Not for the Bieber, mind you. For the actual nuts and bolts of the fashion. It would have given me at least a slightly more hands-on sense of what may be tried on at China's equivalent Fall fashion features later this month. Oddly enough, I expect to see some of that public rendering when I head to the Far East a week from today. Because the only thing more fascinating but way out of my comfort zone than going to some gala fashion soirees in New York or Europe is to do so in a rapidly developing nation. Add in some of tangential thinking I've been doing, thanks in part to a NYTimes piece on China's appetite for collecting Western art and you've got a case of cultural consumption leapfrog that's wonderfully mind-boggling. If you're intrigued by what this might all mean and what I might bring to bear on the discussion, check back. Real observations - not just these hints of what might be upcoming - are promised in easy to consume chunks of cheese on an unpretentious platter.

Until the next page turns...may your own daughter's new soccer season's schedule not parallel your own NFL team's broadcast schedule.

Looking for new linkages between Europe and Asia

For all the thinking I'm doing about China, another pair of countries often enough enter my focus on Pelting Out. Namely, Denmark and the Netherlands. I'd love to consider myself rather well qualified to freely associate random places and concepts - I'm using the pop psychology understand of the term, but I know there are many others. Still, these three countries present a lit'l brain teaser I've not yet detangled. I've got (for my purposes) one way in which Denmark, the Netherlands and China finish 1-2-3 in a manner of tabulation, just ahead of the United States. Are there others? Can there be others or is that free association just too random? Surely in a world this big and complex, there must be a way of crunching some esoteric numbers that will allow me to spin a yarn of connectivity between these three nations. So I throw it out there into the ether for a Labor Day. As I marvel at the sight of a table of snoozing Santa Barbarians in decidedly fresh surfer fashion (there's your oxymoronic sign for our nation's celebration of this holiday) - anyone got a clever, similar ranking for me of these global citizens?

Until the next page turns...may your flights be on time and all your fun family photos duly uploaded for sharing.

Prepping for a trip to China, tracking the roots of the ginseng trade

I'm preparing for a big trip in less than two weeks. I've known about it for the past few months and the timing is fortuitous given my writing plans. I'm still largely unsure of what I'll see along the way. No withheld mystery here - I'm going to China. 10 days, a chance for a big drink from a wide open firehose. I'm being afforded the chance to briefly explore Beijing, Shanghai and Hong Kong. Call it a trade mission, because I'm going with a group of Americans and Canadians whose purpose and interest in visiting China has a specific business implication. But I have plans to be personally adventurous (within safe bounds - hello, unseen all-knowing Internet sniffers) along the way. As a matter of educating myself, I've been reading a fair amount online, flipping through maps and guides, and asking questions of some well-placed friends and friends-of-friends. I'm also finishing off a book this weekend that just came out in August by Tom Scocca - titled Beijing Welcomes You. One direction he pointed me is to mention a travel guide titled Beijing By Foot that is made up of set of 40 maps (printed on cards) that itemize walks around the city. I noticed that journalist James Fallows wrote one of the blurbs on their website. Not bad. I contacted the publisher and they can send a copy to my hotel after I pay by PayPal. Call it the ultra-modern equivalent of getting a TripTic from AAA. Costs more, pays off much much more. I hope.

For today's clue about why I'm here, doing what I'm doing as the sun struggles to burn off the Santa Barbara fog a handful of hours earlier than most recent days. A tangent got me wondering about the Trans-Pacific (if that's what you can call the connection between China and the USA) trade of ginseng. I've always been struck by how little truth in labeling there is on any teas or Whole Foods-y things that feature ginseng. It's rather like trying to find out what part of the moon your moon rocks come from - complete lack of specificity. I suspect this has always been the case with ginseng. And the crazy part is that ginseng from the USA has been making its way to China for centuries. When the trade with Korea (the traditional source of most of the ginseng consumed in China) collapsed, American wild ginseng entered the breach. Eventually, cultivated ginseng became a new trade opportunity. The degree to which that continues, I'm now exactly up to date. But this is something I'm thinking about, for the time being. We'll see if I learn more during my visit.

Like what you see thus far? Well, then become a Follower of my blog. Use the top box in the right-hand column. It won't hurt. It will actually help - updates come automatically, I'll be able to respond to questions, everyone gets a free hug. Or some of those things, in no particular order.

Until the next page turns...may you have a chance to go to the beach and eat pancakes after a workout.