Little readers

This entry is part 22 of 28 in the series Goldfish

Right around the time when I started elementary school, Taiwanese comic books reached the height of its popularity.  The drawings were similar to Japanese manga.  The contents varied widely.  However, one would not be mistaken to think of them as Marvel comics in lieu of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.  There were many book rental stores—think Blockbuster for books.  After school, children would crowd around the store front, sitting on wooden stools and reading comic books.  This phenomenon accumulated into children missing school and, in a few cases, running away from home to seek martial arts masters in the mountains.

Always keeping us on a tight leash, mom would not let us get near the book rentals.  Instead, she would check out books which she approved of and bring them home.  Instead of comic books, we got Western children’s literature.  Mom read us Alice in Wonderland, Peter Pan, Sherlock Holmes and the like.  Somehow, I remember the story of La Dame aux Camélias was also in the selections.  I remember thinking the name of the author 小仲馬 (Little/junior Dumas) was funny-sounding.  (It was not very close to the French pronunciation.)  I remember wondering if there might be a Big Dumas.  I vaguely understood that the lady with camellias sacrificed herself for something important.  Every time I worked on Traviata, I just couldn’t help wondering how such an intense drama could have possibly been whitewashed for children.

In addition to Mandarin Daily, mom also subscribed 兒童樂園 (Children’s Paradise), a children’s bi-weekly for us.  The magazines were published in Hongkong and shipped to Taiwan.  There were historical stories, Western fairy tales, comics and games.  I looked up the publication history of the magazine recently.  It was discontinued in 1995.  Amazingly, the original publisher, with the help of an anonymous contributor, digitalized all 1006 issues in 2013 and released them online.

Mandarin Daily had a series of contemporary Western children’s books in Chinese translation.  We read Mary Poppins, Make way for Ducklings, Madeline and books by Dr. Seuss. . . . My favorite one was THE MAN WHO DIDN’T WASH HIS DISHES!  Perhaps, I secretly dreamt of NOT doing ANYTHING.  Phyllis Krasilovsky’s simple storyline and spirited narrations fit my desires perfectly.  Barbara Cooney’s creative illustrations made the book come alive.  I would look the stack of flower pots wondering if the poor man’s food might taste like dirt.  I was curious of all the different types of pans the man had.  And, what could be better than having nature take care of your problems: Let it rain, let it rain, let it rain.  I never confessed my love of the book to mom. . . Don’t believe that she will approve of it even now.

I also loved a book designed to teach children descriptive writing.  I don’t remember the title or the author.  It followed the daily routine of a boy, from waking up, getting dressed, to brushing teeth.  Underneath each drawing, there were two lines of descriptions.  The first one was matter-of-fact; the second; with details and emotions.  For example: The boy walks—The boy walks with a smile on his face.  I loved that simple daily activities could turned into stories.  Unknowingly, I learned from the book.

My “fun” reading stopped when dad gave me two Chinese classics 三國演義 and 西遊記as summer reading before I became a fourth-grader.  The first book Romance of the Three Kingdoms tells the epic story of the tumultuous time at the end of Han dynasty.  It is full of Shakespearean characters and sensational dramatic developments.  The second one Journey to the West is a fantasy based on the pilgrimage of a Buddhist monk 玄奘法師.  His entourage includes a monkey Sun Wukong 孫悟空, a pig Zhu Bajie 豬八戒 and a friar Sha Wujing 沙悟淨, all with magical powers.

Wouldn’t it have been fun to read these fabulous books?  Yes, but no.  Instead of offering me an introduction to these literary wonders, dad gave me the full dosage: the original versions in Classical Chinese, a written language first derived from literature around 400 BC and continued to be used in all formal writings.  It coexisted but never mingled with the vernacular until it fell out of use in the twentieth century.  So, it was like reading The Adventure of Huckleberry Finn written in the language of Beowulf.

Stubborn and proud, I actually made all the effort to read and understand these books.  It was a long and unforgettable summer.  I am not sure if I can fully grasp all the intricacies reading these books again today.

ㄅㄆㄇㄈ

This entry is part 21 of 28 in the series Goldfish

I started reading and writing in kindergarten.  So, no one was concerned of my reading ability when I entered elementary school.  However, before teaching us simple words, our teacher showed us some strange looking symbols: 注音符號 (zhùyin fúhào), phonetic symbols of Chinese Mandarin.

There are thirty-seven symbols and four tone marks.  In addition, a dot can be placed above the symbols to indicate the neutral/light tone.  (It looks like a staccato mark in music notation and functions like a staccato mark.) The first four consonants ㄅㄆㄇㄈ together have become the metonym of the entire system.  A neutral vowel, schwa [ə], is added when pronouncing the consonants individually.  ㄅㄆㄇㄈ can be transcribed in International Phonetic Alphabets as: [bə, pə, mə, fə].  However, due to dialects, personal habits and sloppiness, the pronunciations vary from [bo, po, mo, fo], [buo, puo, muo, fuo] to [bɔ, pɔ, mɔ, fɔ].

Dad spoke with heavy Zhejiang (浙江) accent.  Mom’s native tongue was Taiwanese.  After WWII, mom learned to speak Mandarin, mostly by converting Japanese words and sounds into Chinese.  She also picked up some vocabulary from Dad.  I knew that my parents talked “funny” and wanted to speak Mandarin well.

We learned that 注音符號 were keys to standard Mandarin.  In theory, when combining a consonant with a vowel (or vowels), one would get the sound of certain words.  For example:  [ㄅ , ㄧ] in first tone would be [bi:] 逼 (force, verb); in second tone would be [bí:] 鼻 (nose); in third tone, [bǐ:] 筆 (pen); so on and so forth.

I believed everything our teacher taught us.  And, I was very good in remembering how various combinations of symbols should be pronounced.  However, I tied myself into knots trying to figure out how ㄅ [bə] combining with ㄧ [i:] would become [bi:].  In the evening, I walked around the house saying [bəy, bəy, bəy. . .]  Our learning materials included a set of long-playing records.  One night, I couldn’t sleep and got up to listen to the LP.  Needless to say, that didn’t go very well with mom.

Within weeks, my parents subscribed 國語日報 (Mandarin Daily News) for me.  It is a children’s newspaper still popular in Taiwan today.  All the characters are marked with Zhuyin.  Sometimes, it was helpful with my pronunciations of words.  Other times, I picked up new words following the phonetics.  I also like games and puzzles.  As my reading ability and appetite continued to grow, I learned to like the translations of western literature on weekends.

After decades of studying languages, I have come to realize that phonetic symbols are useful tools.  However, they can only reveal the very basic sounds of any languages.  The nuances, the intonations and the variances taking place when combining sounds are often untranscribable.  Each language is unique.  To really “hear” a language, one needs to pay attention aurally and intellectually.