The 'Tintin is Gay' row

A columnist on The Times, Matthew Parris has opined on the occasion of Tintin's 'birthday' that the boy reporter is gay. It is a very funny article, which should not really be taken seriously. OK, it might make you think, and let us re-evaluate' our perceptions' of Tintin, but nothing more than that. The online version of the article, or to be more correct, column, has a collection of reader responses. While the article was funny, the reader responses from those disagreeing with Parris are even funnier. What a pity the understanding of mirth was devoid in these particular readers. Of equal mirthfulness are the reactions of the French. Which is quite peculiar, as the boy reporter is actually Belgian, albeit francophone. Most people have probably never even seriously considered the sexuality of a fictional character like Tintin, but it is a little bit of a worry that readers of this column by Matthew Parris felt compelled to 'defend' Tintin against this label of being 'gay'. Gay or straight, there should not be a problem at all.

As we say in Australia, 'It's a joke, Joyce!'

Mr. Hiraoka Kimitake

Last year I taught a Survey of Japanese Literature, which was a selection of excerpts of modern Japanese novels in translation. I felt that the course should begin with Soseki, as the first 'modern' of significant exposure. When choosing content for a 13 week course, with a different author's work each week, there is invariably an author or work of major standing that will be omitted.

I made a deliberate choice, however to include Mishima. I have to admit to Mishima being my first exposure to Japanese literature, the first name I recall, having heard a rather revealing radio program when I was in Year Seven, the content of which was a little over my head, but not outside the realm of 'almost understanding'. Although perhaps the first book of Japanese literature I read was Kawabata's Snow Country, it was Mishima who intrigued me the most. The novel of his that I chose for the course was Confessions of a Mask, and I deliberately singled out the 'ickiest' pieces. This was for second year students. The homoerotic, youthful lusting. The blood and the violence. In that particular lecture, (the lectures were more of an informal, roundtable discussion between a lecturer - me - and ten students), the material presented was certainly confronting, the suicide could not be avoided, and his sexulaity could not be dismissed. I certainly took this second year students way out of their comfort zones, away from the safe compacency of early adulthood. A lot of discussion was generated in the lecture, which was one outcome I was particularly pleased with. The greatest outcome was yet to come. It emerged several weeks later that one of the male students had taken it upon himself to read Forbidden Colours, an even more distasteful novel than Confessions of a Mask, and then to turn around and read The Sea of Fertility, Mishima's tetralogy. It gave this enquiring student a more rounded view of the writer and an appreciation for the talent and emotion in Mishima's writing. He still did not particularly like Mishima, as many of the themes in Mishima's novels were distasteful, but he understood Mishima much better. This was a Murakami Haruki reader, too.

In my mind, this was an unqualified success.

For the final lecture, used to the intimate, informal setting of the class, most time was devoted to an evaluation of the course, and a relaxed discussion on Japanese literature. The two hour lecture had come to an end, it was time for lunch, and yet, we were quite comfortable sitting around, chatting, letting the discussion continue.

I was fortunate.

Czeching Out Illustrated Travel Guidebooks for Children

I bought this the other day. I had wanted it for Christmas, but I treated myself to it after Christmas. Sasek's books were a firm favourite of mine when I was growing up. Regular visits to the library were a part of my growing up. Invariably, I would look for one of the books in the This is... series to take home and have read to me, then later I would be reading them myself. A firm favourite was This is San Francisco. A few years back working in Tokyo I came across some Sasek illustrations in an article about his This is... series in the design magazine Casa Brutus. I am not surprised that sasek's illustrations caught the eye of a design magazine. Apparently young Miroslav was trained as an architect, but he wanted to be an artist. The training comes through in his illustrations. Incredible attention to detail in his illustrations of buildings and a unique approach to cityscapes and colouring. The series of books was devoted mainly to cities around the world, but some volumes were about countries, as well. It was a particular thrill to see his volume on my country, Australia, published. On a recent visit to Tokyo, I saw quite a few of his books in Japanese. They had recently been translated and published. In September, passing through Hong Kong en route to Italy, Dymocks had an artistic display of his This is Hong Kong. His books have stood the test of time, as his earliest books were produced in the late 1950s.

Picture books are not only for children.