Just finished reading A Most Wanted Man, a novel written by John Le Carre.
The book was bought in the Book Fair, bundled with two other Grisham's. Three stuff costed a mere $118. What a bargain. Comparing with Grisham's exciting thriller, Le Carre's is slight as water.
Though there are no less gritty remarks, the writing is prone to stillness. Le Carre wasted little time on expanding the emotional connection among the three protagonists. The English subtleness is an ocean apart to American's exposure. It could be difficult to tell who's better. Mood rules. So, while riding on a bus, after a hard day work, Le Carre's plain dialogues could be quite a sedative.
I crawled to the end, and was amazed at the twist. Le Carre masterfully rigged the plot, by trapping readers to assumed that the most wanted man would be the poor young man. It only told how wrong you were in page 489, when there were only 2 pages left to cross the finishing line. What a perfect demonstration of writer's talent. In Hong Kong, when any nobody could publish a book in a tiny amount of $20,000, I guess it is a kind of blasphemy to writing.
And the novel propelled me to look up what extraordinary rendition is. It is just an euphemism of state lynching by Uncle Sam. By circumventing the legal framework, US "kidnaps" those suspected overseas terrorists and conducted interrogation in some countries with looser standard on human rights. Suspects are likely to be tortured. Obviously, there would be wrong-snatched innocent civilians who suffered. Nevertheless, it could hardly tell whether the method is right or wrong. We love peace. However, if we give too much peace to terrorists, our peace shrinks.
So, the traditional Chinese wisdom shines again. "Gentlemen stay away from kitchen".
2011年8月30日 星期二
2011年8月23日 星期二
Another New Yorker - 20110823
"Start spreading the news, I'm leaving today . . . " New York, New York is always a song of fascination, especially from the golden voice of Frank Sinatra. It belongs to the past, the good old days.
F is an old pal. He is going to pursue his postdoctoral research in Columbia University. The Big Apple, and the Ivy League. He would soon be a New Yorker, in the top echelon. Knowing someone like F would make others' eyes glitter at once and hearts sour while taking a second thought.
A de facto intellectual who would fiercely contests the label, F carries the right ingredient to be a New Yorker. F is an earnest man. He candidly admitted that he had no planning for his future, including his unbearably long-life relationship with L. It was nice to hear some rare truths, when we are nowadays so numb to cheap and fake gibberish like "in five years, I would love to be the section manager and double my salary". In contrast, F's wardrobe is quite different from the Ivy League. He is all-the-way T-shirt, jeans plus sneakers. I guess he at least has to buy a pair of penny loafer, in order to be a true Columbian.
We shared similar taste on music. We went for Suede's concert in Form Five (or Four?). Sadly, the guitarist was Oakes. I would still like to see Butler's playing The Asphalt World. We learnt to play guitar. Thanks to the lousy tutor, we played clumsily then. We shared some similar views on religion. Nevertheless, I wonder how he could tolerate those preachings. We like watching football. F is a fan of the Reds, whilst my favourite team is their archrival. I particularly enjoy watching the Red Devils crushing them in the Anfield. Though Anfield will be no more Anfield.
We rarely met in recent years, my reason was sheer laziness. So, while getting his phone call, I was a bit surprise. We had lunch. Paying attention to F's taste, and also nostalgia, I suggested to go to McDonald. We went Dutch. The food was off topic, and we did some very nice chattings. I found no change of him at all, except the receding hairline, albeit slightly. And our next gathering is indefinite.
"If I can make it there. I'll make it anywhere. It's up to you, New York, New York . . ."
F is an old pal. He is going to pursue his postdoctoral research in Columbia University. The Big Apple, and the Ivy League. He would soon be a New Yorker, in the top echelon. Knowing someone like F would make others' eyes glitter at once and hearts sour while taking a second thought.
A de facto intellectual who would fiercely contests the label, F carries the right ingredient to be a New Yorker. F is an earnest man. He candidly admitted that he had no planning for his future, including his unbearably long-life relationship with L. It was nice to hear some rare truths, when we are nowadays so numb to cheap and fake gibberish like "in five years, I would love to be the section manager and double my salary". In contrast, F's wardrobe is quite different from the Ivy League. He is all-the-way T-shirt, jeans plus sneakers. I guess he at least has to buy a pair of penny loafer, in order to be a true Columbian.
We shared similar taste on music. We went for Suede's concert in Form Five (or Four?). Sadly, the guitarist was Oakes. I would still like to see Butler's playing The Asphalt World. We learnt to play guitar. Thanks to the lousy tutor, we played clumsily then. We shared some similar views on religion. Nevertheless, I wonder how he could tolerate those preachings. We like watching football. F is a fan of the Reds, whilst my favourite team is their archrival. I particularly enjoy watching the Red Devils crushing them in the Anfield. Though Anfield will be no more Anfield.
We rarely met in recent years, my reason was sheer laziness. So, while getting his phone call, I was a bit surprise. We had lunch. Paying attention to F's taste, and also nostalgia, I suggested to go to McDonald. We went Dutch. The food was off topic, and we did some very nice chattings. I found no change of him at all, except the receding hairline, albeit slightly. And our next gathering is indefinite.
"If I can make it there. I'll make it anywhere. It's up to you, New York, New York . . ."
2011年8月16日 星期二
Standing Up - 20110816
During the past few days, somehow, I had to conduct short talk in two occasions.
When was my first experience to speak in front of a crowd? Maybe in secondary school days. I could still remember, in Form Four, we had to speak in front of our classmates during the Chinese lesson. The topic was a free pick. I chose to share my view on the ten dollars coin, which was then a new creature. The memory is still vivid. I was obviously as tense as hell, since it was my maiden voyage. I could still visualize my classmates' laugh when I was making some stupid jokes. Just the good old days.
Later, being an undergraduate, presentation was as usual as having lunch. Feigning professional, we need props, and I got my first set of suit in year two. Cheap grey ones, but tailor-made, and I still wore it for job interview some days ago. Environmental friendly enough, yet it did not bring me luck. Though we did a lot of presentation for some silly topics, I could hardly remember any of those, except the one on Hong Kong style restaurant, which was completed with some of my good friends. We had a good time on that project.
Then, on job, the opportunity for presentation was very scarce. Until now.
During the first minute of my first talk, I tried very hard to placate my shaking voice. It's ok. Throughout the whole twenty minutes, I just made one mistake that I forgot one case which was prepared to be shared. It was already a miracle. And then, take two was by far better.
So, it takes time to familiarity. And it is good that nowadays boys and girls could have their chance for presentation as early as in primary school. Practice makes perfect.
When was my first experience to speak in front of a crowd? Maybe in secondary school days. I could still remember, in Form Four, we had to speak in front of our classmates during the Chinese lesson. The topic was a free pick. I chose to share my view on the ten dollars coin, which was then a new creature. The memory is still vivid. I was obviously as tense as hell, since it was my maiden voyage. I could still visualize my classmates' laugh when I was making some stupid jokes. Just the good old days.
Later, being an undergraduate, presentation was as usual as having lunch. Feigning professional, we need props, and I got my first set of suit in year two. Cheap grey ones, but tailor-made, and I still wore it for job interview some days ago. Environmental friendly enough, yet it did not bring me luck. Though we did a lot of presentation for some silly topics, I could hardly remember any of those, except the one on Hong Kong style restaurant, which was completed with some of my good friends. We had a good time on that project.
Then, on job, the opportunity for presentation was very scarce. Until now.
During the first minute of my first talk, I tried very hard to placate my shaking voice. It's ok. Throughout the whole twenty minutes, I just made one mistake that I forgot one case which was prepared to be shared. It was already a miracle. And then, take two was by far better.
So, it takes time to familiarity. And it is good that nowadays boys and girls could have their chance for presentation as early as in primary school. Practice makes perfect.
A Lovely Route - 20110801
After moving to Shatin, I explored some new paths for jogging. Naturally, Shing Mun River would be the starting point, which is one of the hot picks for joggers. The reason is quite obvious, in such a packed place like Hong Kong, running paths are scarcely as smooth, vehicle-free and scenic as it. Another example I could think of is in Tai Po.
In the past, I had several touches on the Race Course side of the River. Now, living on the other end, I run there more often. Last Friday, I did a returned trip from the Riverside Regal Hotel to Kam Fung Court, situated besides the Ma On Shan Promenade. The total distance is around 12 km.
The view along the Ma On Shan Promenade was amazingly beautiful. At its entrance, the opposite landscape of Ma Liu Shui was already quite something. With lightings scattered among the old and new structures of the Chinese University of Hong Kong, and a boat slowly riding into Shing Mun River, causing the water waves into some infinite parallel lines, night was especially serene. Since weather was not that stable, and there were occasional showers, the Promenade was quiet. It added more joy to the run. In 5 minutes, the view emerged, Shing Mun River became Tolo harbour. Water met the opposite ground with the enormous Pat Sin Leng. The eight dull peaks hung highly in the darkness. Black varied, liked ink.
The return trip was rather exciting. When I was running outside the Sport Academy, the occasional shower turned to eruption. All my sweat was washed away by rain. My trainers and socks were soaked in flood. Eyesight was reduced to 2 metres. The additional weigh and blurry vision made me crawl. It was an interesting way to cool down the body heat. The pouring was short-live. It stopped in 10 minutes.
Backed home, I did some noodles, with mushrooms, and gigantic amount of spring onions as toppings, for dinner. It was such a good way to refill the empty tank.
In the past, I had several touches on the Race Course side of the River. Now, living on the other end, I run there more often. Last Friday, I did a returned trip from the Riverside Regal Hotel to Kam Fung Court, situated besides the Ma On Shan Promenade. The total distance is around 12 km.
The view along the Ma On Shan Promenade was amazingly beautiful. At its entrance, the opposite landscape of Ma Liu Shui was already quite something. With lightings scattered among the old and new structures of the Chinese University of Hong Kong, and a boat slowly riding into Shing Mun River, causing the water waves into some infinite parallel lines, night was especially serene. Since weather was not that stable, and there were occasional showers, the Promenade was quiet. It added more joy to the run. In 5 minutes, the view emerged, Shing Mun River became Tolo harbour. Water met the opposite ground with the enormous Pat Sin Leng. The eight dull peaks hung highly in the darkness. Black varied, liked ink.
The return trip was rather exciting. When I was running outside the Sport Academy, the occasional shower turned to eruption. All my sweat was washed away by rain. My trainers and socks were soaked in flood. Eyesight was reduced to 2 metres. The additional weigh and blurry vision made me crawl. It was an interesting way to cool down the body heat. The pouring was short-live. It stopped in 10 minutes.
Backed home, I did some noodles, with mushrooms, and gigantic amount of spring onions as toppings, for dinner. It was such a good way to refill the empty tank.
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