Will Buckingham's Blog, page 34

The Thing Is…

When I was casting around for a name for this new blog—naming things is always a tricky business—I eventually settled on ‘The Myriad Things’. I tried out a few other names as well, but ‘The Myriad Things’ was the one that stuck. I toyed with ‘Myriad Things,’ without the definite article; but I thought that it sounded a little too much like an online store. I also thought about ‘All the Myriad Things’, which had nice rhythm to it; but to my ear it sounded a little too much like the title of one of those delicate, nuanced novels in which nothing very much happens. So in the end I settled for ‘The Myriad Things.’ And the more I think about it, the more I think that the name fits.

So why ‘The Myriad Things’? The name, as many people will either know or suspect, comes from the Chinese 萬物 wanwu, which is often translated as ‘ten thousand things’. The things of the world are frequently enumerated in Chinese philosophical texts as being ten thousand in number. This is not a matter of actual accounting. According to the Zhuangzi, ‘if we calculated the number of things, it does not stop at ten thousand, and yet we set a limit by calling them the “Ten Thousand Things” ― this is just to speak of them with a provisional name due to their great quantity.’ In other words, ‘ten thousand’ has the same kind of meaning as Carl Sagan’s ‘billions upon billions’. It means ‘innumerable,’ or ‘beyond counting.’

What I’ve always loved about the notion of the ten thousand things is that we ourselves are included in their number. Human beings, the Zhuangzi says, ‘are but one item’ amongst the countless things of the world. We are not separated out from the world. We are not a separate creation. I find this restoring of human existence to the thingness of things—this restitution of our status as things in the world, in the same way that cats and telephone poles and supernovae are things—a huge relief after centuries of philosophical labour that sought to demonstrate that we are set apart from other things. So I think that a proper returning of human beings to their ‘thingliness’ could be useful and salutary. There is a popular notion that we are too obsessed by things; but I sometimes wonder if the problem is that we are far too indifferent to them, if the problem lies more in our lack of care for things and for the thingness of things.

But what, my philosopher friends will cry, is a thing? Here there are philosophical swamplands aplenty; but I’ll delicately tiptoe around them to maintain a kind of loose, vague notion of thinghood taken from the seventeenth century philosopher, Wang Fuzhi 王夫之, from his Elaboration on the Meaning of the Book of History:

The wind, lightning, rain and dew of heaven are things; so too are the mountains, hills, deeps, plains and crevices of the earth. Moreover, their being yin or yang, soft or hard is also a thing. The flying, diving, moving and staying still of things are also things. The people’s generous giving, living and use are also a thing, as also is their gaining or losing, goodness or badness. Fathers, children, older and younger siblings among the people are likewise things as are their good conduct and reputation for tending to sageliness and also their benevolence, justice, ritual and music.

In other words, anything you could mention is a thingly kind of a thing. This broad notion of ‘things’ appeals to me. In the past, I have written a fair amount about the notion of materialism. But now I think back on it, ‘materialism’ seems a rather too precise term—or perhaps a rather too vague term, or else too precise in one sense and too vague in another, I am not sure—for what I am trying to get at. Because what I am trying to get at is simply this: the thingly nature of the world matters to me. In fact, I can’t see how anything could matter independent of the thingly world. And when you remove every last trace of the thingliness of things, I’m not sure that there is anything left over that still might matter.

All this is why I am often suspicious of the often decidedly unthingly language of ‘spirituality’. The Lithuanian-French philosopher Emmanuel Levinas, who I studied for quite a few years, says somewhere—I think it is in his book Otherwise than Being—that all the spirituality of the world lies in the gesture of taking bread from your own mouth to give to one who is hungry. I like what Levinas is saying here, I like the thing-ification of the spiritual in this sentiment; but I can’t see why you would bother to retain the language of spirituality at all. Bread and hunger, and acts of kindness: these too are thingly things.

So, ‘The Myriad Things’ it is. I’ll be blogging over here on those amongst the myriad things that strike me as interesting, or that take my attention, or that appeal to me; and all the while I’ll be bearing in mind their thingliness. Whatever that means. As this is a new blog, I have no idea where it will be heading: one of the pleasures of blogging is that it is a form of thinking and writing that allows for perpetual new departures and new possibilities. It is by nature not closed and final. So I’ll see where it goes. And I’ll look forward to some interesting conversations along the way.

New Blog — The Myriad Things

Well, after a year more or less on blogging hiatus—other than my updates here on WillBuckingham.com, I’ve decided to set up a new blog for myself. As many of you will know, I blogged over on thinkBuddha.org for getting on for six years before I wound up operations over there in the early part of 2011. I had begun to find the format of thinkBuddha.org a little confining, and in the end it didn’t quite reflect may various interests. So, thinkBuddha will still exist as a repository of articles, although I’ve closed down commenting there; and I’m ready to embark on a new project. So, ladies and gentlemen, I give to you The Myriad Things

The Myriad Things takes its name from the Chinese expression wanwu 萬物, literally ‘ten thousand things’: a name for all of the phenomena of existence. If this isn’t a broad enough mandate to blog about what I like, then I don’t know what will be. The broadness of the name means that I can post more or less what I like over there: from philosophy to stories to weird in-between things. I’m hoping that there will be a lot of weird in-between things.

The blog is now launched, so do head over and bookmark it and subscribe to the RSS feed, or whatever else you want to do. I’m hoping to blog at a fairly steady rate over there: not frenetically, but steadily. The Myriad Things will be my main place for more sustained writing—whether in fiction, philosophy or anything else, and I’ll continue to use the blog on WillBuckingham.com for news, snippets, bits and pieces, Snorghs, and other such activities.

The Myriad Things is also an experiment in working with WordPress instead of Textpattern. I love the flexibility of Textpattern, and will be continuing to use it over here; but for a blog, WordPress is quick and convenient, and easy to get up and running in next to no time.

I hope to see you over there.

Welcome to the Myriad Things

Well, here it is—after a hiatus of about a year or so, I’ve started blogging again in earnest.

And so welcome to The Myriad Things. As some visitors here may know, for a long time—five years in all—I ran a blog over at thinkBuddha.org. It was a huge amount of fun; but back in late 2011, I decided to retire thinkBuddha. I felt that I had come to the end of that particular road, I needed a break from blogging; and, besides, I had plenty of other things on at the time, with a number of writing projects that I was working on and that were taking up my attention.

So I had a break from running a blog for a year or so. But then, a couple of months ago, Steve Himmer invited me to be a guest blogger (it was a bit more fancy than that: Steve called it a ‘writer in residence’) over on his wonderful website, Necessary Fiction for the month of April 2012; and getting back into the swing of blogging was just so much fun that I thought perhaps it was time to return to the fray. I thought for a while about reviving thinkBuddha; but eventually decided that it might be better to set up an entirely new blog.

There were several reasons for my decision to start up something new. Firstly, I wanted somewhere that I could explore matters both philosophical and literary; and thinkBuddha was always a decidedly philosophical kind of a project. It simply wasn’t the kind of place that I felt I could just post a short story if I felt like doing so. Secondly, there was the question of Buddhism. thinkBuddha existed, in part, as a way of grappling with the various traditions of Buddhism. These days, I grapple rather less with Buddhism. Although it remains an abiding interest and influence, it is just not a thing for grappling in the way that it was. Over the past year, I’ve occasionally come up with some things that I thought I might like to blog about, but that didn’t really seem to fit with the kind of approach I had taken on thinkBuddha. The overtly Buddhist nature of the previous blog was becoming a bit confining. And my own website willbuckingham.com is more a kind of general newsy kind of site, and not so much the kind of place suited to extended reflection.

As a result of all of this, I’ve decided to set up a new blog. It may be a bit more freewheeling and eclectic than thinkBuddha was. I’ve chosen the name The Myriad Things  in part because it a name that almost invites this kind of eclecticism, and in part because my philosophical interests have become increasingly entangled with my study of Chinese thought, from whence the notion of ‘myriad things’ comes. thinkBuddha will remain online, although I’ll not be posting new articles over there (other than the occasional post in the news section), and after a while I’ll be closing down the comments, so I can focus on this blog.

I do not know what form or shape The Myriad Things will eventually have. I’m aiming to keep things very loose and broad at first, so that I feel free to post on whatever I like: literature, philosophy both Eastern (in particular, at the moment, Chinese) and Western, other on-going projects in the field of philosophy, writing, current affairs, science, ethics—and yes, from time to time, Buddhism as well. We’ll see how it goes.

A single post does not make a blog: and what a blog actually is generally only becomes apparent only once it has been running for a while. But I am looking forward to getting back into the swing of blogging; and I’m looking forward to renewing some old blog connections, as well as forging many new ones.

Image: 長江萬頃 Ten Thousand Ripples on the Yangtze by Ma Yuan. Source: Wikimedia Commons

Books, coffee, Tim O'Brien and the troublesome matter of excellence (not necessarily in that order)

I’m back in the UK, munching on cheese at the Sourced Market in St. Pancras, waiting for my train home to Leicester, and downing another coffee to help keep awake after the overnight flight from Toronto. It’s good to be back—I think—but I was sorry to leave Toronto. It didn’t feel long enough.

The final day of the Canadian Creative Writers and Writing Programs conference was excellent and highly stimulating: there were some fascinating papers, and the day ended with an extraordinary talk by Tim O’Brien, who managed in half and hour to say more about the art of writing fiction than many writers could manage to say (myself included) in whole weeks of to-ing and fro-ing.

The following day we spent with writer friends from the conference, eating an enormous brunch, and then visiting the book fair at St. Lawrence Market. The market is claimed by National Geographic to be the No. 1 market in the world, although I’m not entirely sure what that might mean. Anyway, I managed to pick up a nice hardback of Alice Munro, as well as falling into various interesting conversations with some of the stall-holders, a couple of whom I may be continuing my conversations with when they are over in Leicester (strangely enough) in the next week or two.

I was sad to say goodbye at the airport; but a few days away, conversations with fellow writers and a change of scene have—taken together—done wonders for the imagination. The trouble with working as a writer (or, to be frank, working at all) in the thrusting, forward-looking, business-friendly, customer-focussed, efficiency-obsessed, everything-must-be-done-yesterday, excellence-intoxicated environment that is twenty-first century higher education is that it is not necessarily an environment that is particularly conducive to thought. And so it is necessary, from time to time, to get away. Certainly, on this occasion, it has been very fruitful. I’ve managed to resolve a couple of problems with a still very tentative novel project that I’m brewing, and I’m brimming with thoughts for possible things to work on in the future. And I’ve brought back with me a large stack of books that I am looking forward to working through. So I’ve got plenty to get on with in terms of reading and writing. Now the only thing that can stand in my way now is that pesky perpetual demand for excellence…

Translation and Spinach Bagels

The first full day at the Canadian Creative Writers and Writing Programs conference was long, tiring, and often exhilarating. I was on a panel on creative writing across cultures, along with Ray Hsu and ghazal poet Sheniz Janmohamed, and—as ever—it felt as if the interesting discussions were just getting going as we had to call time on things. The cross-cultural (and cross-linguistic) theme was picked up later when the wonderful Nicole Brossard and Erin Mouré did the plenary session—in French and English, mainly, with smatterings of Spanish and Gallician—on questions of translation. Nicole and Erin’s session was yesterday’s absolute highlight: translation as more than mechanics, a matter of allowing language to seep into the body, a matter of multiple cross-currents, a matter of—as a flesh and blood human being—allowing oneself to be affected corporeally, a matter of translating not just the text, but the pleasure of the text. My favourite quote of the day was from Erin’s talk: “Books are emigrants, they belong in the places where they arrive.”

Will Ferguson in the evening, talking about writing and humour, was also superbly entertaining: genial, funny and insightful; but I confess that I was on the lightweights bus back to the residency, rather than included amongst the rather smaller cohort who went on to party hard at the Spoke Club until the early hours. Today is another full day of talks (and, inevitably, large buckets of coffee); and tomorrow there’s the Toronto Book Fair and Paper Show (a paper show! — this is bibliogeek heaven) at St. Lawrence Market, so we’ll be heading down there before catching the flight home.

But now it’s time for breakfast: I’m off to Tatsu’s bakery for one of their heavenly spinach bagels…

In Toronto

If I crane my neck from where I am sitting, up on the fifth floor of the student residency in Toronto, I can just about see Lake Ontario. It’s a beautiful early evening here in Canada and the Candian Creative Writers and Writing Programs conference at Humber College is just about due to start. I have to say, I’m very glad to be here. Simon Perril and I flew over yesterday from the UK, leaving behind a large pile of marking, and several eye-wateringly pressing deadlines. It was a surprisingly relaxing journey, with even Heathrow being relatively bearable once they had established that I didn’t have a bomb in my underpants (when it came to checking for underpants bombs, the staff at Heathrow were very professional and courteous…).

As the conference begins only this evening, we had time today spare; and so we decided to spend most of it wandering around Toronto and hitting the second-hand bookshops. On a tip-off from the owner of Ten Editions Books — who left her shop unattended to take us half way there, and then accosted a grumpy woman who was pulling a heavy box on a trolley, to see if she could take us the rest of the way (she couldn’t, she said…) — we called in on Coach House Press, tucked away down a side alley, a glorious haven of literary enthusiasm, hulking printing presses, and intriguing-looking books printed on the kind of quality of paper that is used only by people who really care about books. I’ve got an unread copy of Coach House’s Saudade: The Possibilities of Place by Anik See on my bookshelf at home, so I’ve made a mental note to get round to reading it when I get back. Simon was less restrained than I was, and came away from with a huge pile of books and a somewhat bruised credit card account. Later on I did manage to pick up a cheap copy of Will Eisner’s classic, Comics and Sequential Art.

This evening is going to be relatively low-key, and tomorrow I’ll be talking about my Yijing stories, so I’m currently shuffling them around here and there and deciding what to read. But mainly I’m looking forward to just hanging out, chatting to people at the conference, and sitting back for the next few days and soaking up some intriguing writing.

On Snorghs and little accidents...

I’m delighted that The Snorgh and the Sailor is on the list of ten books recommended by Children’s Laureate Julia Donaldson for the summer children’s picture book promotion at Waterstones. So I thought that this morning I would head into town and pick up a promotional leaflet. There was a nice stack of them in the children’s book section; and, at first glance, they looked to be very fine things indeed, filled with useful tips about books and reading for small children, and adorned with assorted gruffali (if that is the plural) and other such wonderful things.

However, on closer inspection, I was somewhat astonished to discover that illustrator Tom Docherty and I have been secretly collaborating on non-Snorghish side-projects. Thanks to some slightly wayward cutting and pasting, it seems that in the leaflet we are also credited with being the author of Pirate Petes’s and Princess Polly’s Potty Training Books (“Press the cheering button to celebrate every little success”). Here are a couple of snapshots taken from the leaflet:

 

So I thought it worth pointing out here that the author and illustrator of Pirate Pete and of Princess Polly is the excellent and decidedly prolific Andrea Pinnington, for whom this misattribution must be more than a little bit annoying. It is worth also saying that the Snorgh has no cheering button, not because we are opposed to cheering, but because we judged that, on balance, it has no need of one. Neither does it have any advice on potty training. If, as a reader of the Snorgh, you wish to engage in a spot of cheering, you should do so. Indeed, we will defend your right to do so unto the death. If you want advice on potty training, on the other hand, then you are on your own. Or you should go and buy one of Andrea’s books.

Open Invitation: Launching the Snorgh

Next Thursday, 26th April, Thomas Docherty and I will be launching our book The Snorgh and the Sailor, published by Alison Green Books/Scholastic, at the Crumblin’ Cookie in Leicester on 26th April 2012.

This FREE evening event is a grown-up launch with readings, an author interview, a fully-functioning bar, some fun activities, and music from truly brilliant Leicester-based singer- songwriter Natalie Squance.

The Snorgh and the Sailor has already attracted excellent reviews including from children’s laureate Julia Donaldson (“Outstanding — adventurous and quirky”) the Birmingham Post (“There is just a hint of poignancy in this beautifully illustrated book… It’s a book to treasure”) and The Bookseller (This is a charming book that celebrates the power of the imagination and the thrill of adventure”). Come along and help launch the curiously philosophical Snorgh on his journeys into the world.

Venue: The Crumblin’ Cookie, 68 High St., Leicester. LE1 5YP

Date and Time: 26th April 2012. 7.30 pm.

Web: www.facebook.com/Snorgh

FREE EVENT: ALL WELCOME — no need to let us know in advance

You can download the press release here: Press Release: The Snorgh and the Sailor

The Snorgh Sets Forth

I've blogged a little bit about my children's book The Snorgh and the Sailor over the past few months, but I've just realised that I haven't yet written an official blog post on the subject. So allow me, somewhat belatedly, to introduce the Snorgh, who has now left the marshlands of his inception and is currently setting out on adventures of his own. He's already got as far as Finland and Germany, as well as popping up in various bookshops here in the UK.

The illustrations are by Thomas Docherty, who is a truly brilliant artist, and the Snorgh has already gleaned some absolutely wonderful reviews and endorsements from the likes of Julia Donaldson ("Outstanding—adventurous and quirky") and the Birmingham Post ("a book to treasure"). You can find out more at Snorgh.org or, even better, you can go to your local bookshop and get yourself a copy. Failing that, Amazon may do the trick.

There will be a launch party for the book in a couple of weeks, here in Leicester. It will be in the Crumblin' Cookie on April 26th from 7.30pm. It's a free event, with readings and fun and music from the tremendous Nathalie Squance, so do come along if you are in Leicester.

Introducing Happiness on Sale

For those who own a Kindle, there's currently a sale over on Amazon on the Icon Books "Introducing" practical guides series; and my Introducing Happiness is selling for a short while for a mere 99p. This is less than an ice-cream. And, besides, it is more nourishing. And it is more joke-filled. And it is less likely to make you fat. So there's no good reason (other than not owning a Kindle) not to get a copy.

I don't know how long the sale is going to last, so head on over to Amazon and buy a copy today. The link is here.

In other news, today is the official launch date of the Snorgh and the Sailor, so the book should be appearing in your local bookshops soon. I'm told that it has already been sighted out there in the wild.