Book Review: The Man with the Compound Eyes
Written by Ming-Yi Wu, translated by Darryl Sterk
British and American people may jokingly refer to the Atlantic Ocean as “the pond,” but I’ve yet to hear American or Asian people make a similar joke about the Pacific. In fact, given the cultural differences between the United States and the Asian countries bordering the Pacific, it had not occurred to me that there was any such unity.
Ming-Yi Wu’s novel, The Man with the Compound Eyes (translated by Darryl Sterk), changed this perspective for me. Set mainly in Taiwan, Wu’s story features a mix of cultures, including Han Chinese, European, indigenous Taiwanese and Pacific Islander. Ming drew my attention to the continuity of island cultures around the Pacific, and demolished my preconceptions of Taiwan.
Silly idea on my part—Taiwan looks flat on a political map. I hadn’t realized it is mountainous. Taipei is a bustling center of commerce. I hadn’t realized there are people in Taiwan concerned about environmental issues. The Republic of China was created to oppose the People’s Republic of China on the Asian mainland. I hadn’t realized there were marginalized indigenous populations on Taiwan who maintain cultural traditions that are distinct from the majority Han society.
Ocean plastic is a trash soup . . . (photo by Ben Beiske)
Wu’s novel asks questions I hadn’t realized were in play by Asians. For example, is it really good to blast enormous tunnels through the mountains of Taiwan in order to facilitate road travel? Is the dominant capitalistic culture the only way to live on the island? What about the ancient values of reverence for the earth and the plant and animal ecologies of the island?
The questioning of the dominant capitalistic values focuses on a trash vortex which is driven by a typhoon from the outer Pacific to the coast of Taiwan. Wu conceives the vortex as a moving island, which serves to connect Atile’i, a teenage boy from Wu’s mythical Polynesian land of Wayo Wayo, with Alice, a spiritually exhausted Han Chinese woman who is trying to make sense of huge losses in her life.
Atile’i floating over the Pacific on a patch of trash is a perfect image of humanity confronted by the unexpected consequences of its own actions. Atile’s knows nothing of modern society. The objects in the trash vortex confuse and tantalize him. He senses that they represent danger, but he must cling to them and travel with them, because his own boat, made from the natural materials found on Wayo Wayo, has been claimed by the sea.
Can we find a link back to prehistoric human relations with nature? (photo by Gerry and Bonni)
In real life, the majority of the plastic in the ocean consists of particles less than 5 mm. in diameter. There is no island of trash that can easily be spotted by seafarers or a satellite camera. Instead, the ocean plastic is a trash soup. We can’t say for sure how the ecology of the open ocean is changing as the result of the huge amounts of these particles that float at or near the surface, but chances are we won’t be happy with the long-term changes.
Wu’s creation of Atile’i and the “primitive” culture of Wayo Wayo are, to me, the best parts of his novel, because of their magical charm and their contrast with modern Asian capitalistic society. Wu suggests a web of connections between the ancient ways of the peoples who migrated eastward across the Pacific island chains and the marginalized indigenous peoples of modern Taiwan. He also probes for submerged spiritual experiences in the Han Chinese and European characters. Can the modern mind find a link back to prehistoric human relations with nature?
We share the Pacific Ocean’s resources, and we ignore our connections at our peril: Remains of a starved albatross chick at Midway Atoll Refuge, showing its unaltered (plastic) stomach contents, “food” it was fed by its parents (2009 photo by Chris Jordan, U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service)
Reading Wu’s novel helped me look west across the Pacific for connections which I, as a European American, am not used to making. Today’s reality is that North and South America, the Pacific Rim nations in Asia, and the Pacific Island peoples all share the Pacific Ocean’s natural resources and can learn from the cultural heritage of the prehistoric seafaring peoples who settled the archipelagos dotted over this ocean. We ignore our connections at our peril.
The Man with the Compound Eyes
Book Review: The Man with the Compound Eyes
Written by Ming-Yi Wu, translated by Darryl Sterk
British and American people may jokingly refer to the Atlantic Ocean as “the pond,” but I’ve yet to hear American or Asian people make a similar joke about the Pacific. In fact, given the cultural differences between the United States and the Asian countries bordering the Pacific, it had not occurred to me that there was any such unity.
Ming-Yi Wu’s novel, The Man with the Compound Eyes (translated by Darryl Sterk), changed this perspective for me. Set mainly in Taiwan, Wu’s story features a mix of cultures, including Han Chinese, European, indigenous Taiwanese and Pacific Islander. Ming drew my attention to the continuity of island cultures around the Pacific, and demolished my preconceptions of Taiwan.
Silly idea on my part—Taiwan looks flat on a political map. I hadn’t realized it is mountainous. Taipei is a bustling center of commerce. I hadn’t realized there are people in Taiwan concerned about environmental issues. The Republic of China was created to oppose the People’s Republic of China on the Asian mainland. I hadn’t realized there were marginalized indigenous populations on Taiwan who maintain cultural traditions that are distinct from the majority Han society.
Ocean plastic is a trash soup . . . (photo by Ben Beiske)
Wu’s novel asks questions I hadn’t realized were in play by Asians. For example, is it really good to blast enormous tunnels through the mountains of Taiwan in order to facilitate road travel? Is the dominant capitalistic culture the only way to live on the island? What about the ancient values of reverence for the earth and the plant and animal ecologies of the island?
The questioning of the dominant capitalistic values focuses on a trash vortex which is driven by a typhoon from the outer Pacific to the coast of Taiwan. Wu conceives the vortex as a moving island, which serves to connect Atile’i, a teenage boy from Wu’s mythical Polynesian land of Wayo Wayo, with Alice, a spiritually exhausted Han Chinese woman who is trying to make sense of huge losses in her life.
Atile’i floating over the Pacific on a patch of trash is a perfect image of humanity confronted by the unexpected consequences of its own actions. Atile’s knows nothing of modern society. The objects in the trash vortex confuse and tantalize him. He senses that they represent danger, but he must cling to them and travel with them, because his own boat, made from the natural materials found on Wayo Wayo, has been claimed by the sea.
Can we find a link back to prehistoric human relations with nature? (photo by Gerry and Bonni)
In real life, the majority of the plastic in the ocean consists of particles less than 5 mm. in diameter. There is no island of trash that can easily be spotted by seafarers or a satellite camera. Instead, the ocean plastic is a trash soup. We can’t say for sure how the ecology of the open ocean is changing as the result of the huge amounts of these particles that float at or near the surface, but chances are we won’t be happy with the long-term changes.
Wu’s creation of Atile’i and the “primitive” culture of Wayo Wayo are, to me, the best parts of his novel, because of their magical charm and their contrast with modern Asian capitalistic society. Wu suggests a web of connections between the ancient ways of the peoples who migrated eastward across the Pacific island chains and the marginalized indigenous peoples of modern Taiwan. He also probes for submerged spiritual experiences in the Han Chinese and European characters. Can the modern mind find a link back to prehistoric human relations with nature?
We share the Pacific Ocean’s resources, and we ignore our connections at our peril: Remains of a starved albatross chick at Midway Atoll Refuge, showing its unaltered (plastic) stomach contents, “food” it was fed by its parents (2009 photo by Chris Jordan, U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service)
Reading Wu’s novel helped me look west across the Pacific for connections which I, as a European American, am not used to making. Today’s reality is that North and South America, the Pacific Rim nations in Asia, and the Pacific Island peoples all share the Pacific Ocean’s natural resources and can learn from the cultural heritage of the prehistoric seafaring peoples who settled the archipelagos dotted over this ocean. We ignore our connections at our peril.