In soldiers’ words…

Everyone has an opinion on war, whether you want to hear it or not. Ironically, what should be one of the loudest voices is often a voice that goes unspoken or unheard: the voice of the soldier. Robert E. Humphrey believes that the time to hear the soldier’s story is now. While the Sacramento State communications professor’s account of World War II’s 99th Division may not directly relate to the men and women in today’s armed forces, Humphrey’s depiction of the hardships of a soldier’s life is as relevant today as it was in the 1940s.

Formed in Mississippi late in 1942, the 99th Division was comprised largely of volunteers who were eager to serve their country, stop the Nazis or retaliate for the bombing of Pearl Harbor. Ten months later, the unit would ship out to Europe, where they would spend six months on the front lines in deplorable conditions, participating in one of the biggest conflicts of the war: the Battle of the Bulge.

Immediately, Humphrey makes it clear that he aims to collect the experiences of as many GIs as possible. Often he will list a dozen or more reactions to one single event to show the unity or divergences within the common soldier’s mind.

This is one of the greatest strengths and weaknesses of Humphrey’s research. A lot of interesting information is given, but because there are so many points of view (he interviewed more than 300 surviving members of the division) and the recount of the troop movements isn’t always in chronological order, it’s hard to see how the individual soldier relates to the larger picture. This is forgivable because the purpose of the book is to present the views of the average soldier. Still, it would have been nice if a handful of soldiers had their stories featured more prominently so the reader could form a connection with these men.

What’s truly fascinating is the ability of these men to live in hell and kill other men. Deprived of food and water, infantry men lived in holes dug into the freezing ground, with inadequate clothing that they often had to defecate in because leaving cover was a deadly option. They witnessed nightmarish deaths and wounds, graphically recounted. Those interviewed describe men crushed flat as pancakes by tanks, heads separated above the lower jaw, dismemberment and organs spilling from living corpses.

They were not just the victims, though. Actions taken by American GIs could be as deplorable as the enemy’s worst. Soldiers describe watching their fellows mercilessly slaughter Germans who were surrendering. One man told Humphrey it bothered him, but “‘not enough to say anything.’”

Many men describe that when a man lives as an animal for so long, it’s only natural they begin to behave like one. One black soldier remembers, “‘I had anger in me then, plenty of it, because of the way we was treated [in America and in the Army], and I was just fit for killing—anybody, I was just right for it.’” Yet for most soldiers maintaining a sense of humanity was essential to their survival.

Luckily, Once Upon a Time in War never directly asks questions of the reader or begs a comparison of the 99th to our current war. However, it’s impossible to hear the horrors and triumphs of these World War II soldiers without asking yourself if you could do what they did, or if there’s something in your life that you value so much that you would risk losing your life or your humanity to protect it. The book demonstrates that a good soldier may not articulate these questions, but that doesn’t mean they don’t have answers.

Turning Japanese…

When you think of Japanese cuisine, your mind’s eye is probably greeted with images of beautifully arranged sashimi, glistening teriyaki and steaming udon noodles, but is that portrayal of Japanese cooking accurate? And how does a culture and a country come to have an identifiable national cuisine? Katarzyna J. Cwiertka believes that the answers can be found in the past 150 years of Japanese culinary history.

Now a researcher at the Leiden University in the Netherlands, Cwiertka began researching the modernization of Japanese cuisine for her Master of Arts thesis completed at the University of Tsukuba in Japan. Her findings, collected in Modern Japanese Cuisine: Food, Power and National Identity, present an adaptive national palate that, through war, industrialization, political and social pressures, and imperialistic expansion, has remained true to tradition while becoming unrecognizable to culinary tendencies of a century and a half ago.

Progressing chronologically, the author starts with what she sees as the first catalyst for the current ideas of what Japanese food entails: Westernization. While you may expect this to be a story of unwanted European encroachment into foreign lands, in many ways the tale that unfolds is quite the opposite. During the late 19th century, Cwiertka explains that the politicians and upper-class citizens of Japan were concerned with how to modernize their nation, and the West provided an opportunity for this. In a calculated game of copycat, Japan strove to distinguish itself from China and impress foreign dignitaries by structuring not only their government, but also their dinner table after a Western model.

If only familiar with the current national cuisine of Japan, readers will find many of the book’s anecdotes amusing because they not only illuminate a culture’s past but also often fly in stark contradiction to what an average Western audience would see as “Japanese.” We’re forced to question why we find the story of a Japanese farmer abandoning his rice crops to make a fortune on the production of ketchup so amusing, and are surprised to learn that miso soup and gyôza, two staples of any Japanese restaurant in the United States, were once foreign foods in Japan itself.

These are the stories that will fascinate foodies and historians alike. However Cwiertka bares her strong academic roots when she chooses to structure the book as a scholarly text. The endless name-date emphasis provides a strong basis of support for the historical context framing the shifting culinary trends, but may make the book too heavy for a casual reader just interested in the authenticity of their gyôza and sushi rolls.

And if you’re not concerned with how authentic your sushi is, maybe you should be. The Japanese Ministry of Agriculture, Forestry and Fisheries recently announced that they have created an advisory council to inspect Japanese restaurants in foreign countries for the use of authentic ingredients and cooking techniques. A trip to the first United States city, Los Angeles, is scheduled for within a year.

Though perhaps the advisory council should pick up Modern Japanese Cuisine, they might be interested to read Cwiertka’s research, which suggests Japan’s cuisine is relatively new and constantly adapting an amalgam of various world cuisines. In this sense, the idea of a national cuisine is more akin to the picture in a cookbook than the actual dish. It is a created, ungraspable concept that one can only attempt to recreate in an actual kitchen, and deviations from a traditional recipe may one day become the norm from which they first rebelled. Now that’s food for thought.

The Commuters…

In a society where houses are built closer and closer together and neighbors have become strangers, the person you pass on the street could have a profound impact on your life, and you’d never know it. Bringing this concept to fruition, Cheryl Klein’s first novel, The Commuters, is a collection of short stories examining the connections–and missed connections–that fuel our lives.

Billed as a “novel of intersections,” Klein uses every tool at a writer’s advantage to examine Los Angeles as a city that is fragmented and isolated but still able to maintain subtle strings of correlations linking the citizens together. Rarely is the network acknowledged by the characters themselves, but through structure, metaphors, themes and a red skirt, a reader can see the ties that interconnect their lives.

Refusing to confine the ensemble protagonists to one area of the city, Klein places her stories in a diverse range of locales; West Hollywood, the garment district, Santa Monica and South Central all are featured. Within these districts is a population crowded with people who are so concerned with themselves and their immediate attention spans that they fail to see the bigger picture. There are no main characters in The Commuters; instead, the cast is spread out over 20 chapters. Each person acting as a driver on a freeway, each piloting his or her own car. While they may pass each other, even slightly acknowledge the presence of the person to their right, they rarely give a second thought as to whom that person is, where he or she is going, or where he or she has been. Klein proposes that if we were to ask those questions, we would find the intersections of our lives.

One simple thread, in the form of a red skirt, unknowingly brings together a series of characters, their own similarities and differences magnified through their relation to the article of clothing. The red skirt designed by Beverly Hills fashion designer Tam Perla is worn by famous actress Kendall Elise Alexander and sewn by Melanea, for which she receives 25 cents a garment from her sweatshop boss, Mrs. Hong. A lesbian book club, a winged DJ and a series of fires that may or may not be targeting an ex-lover of Charlie Chaplin all are ties that bind Klein’s community together–whether they see it or not.

In an inspired move, Klein structures her novel after her characters: unique, diverse and fresh. By varying the formats of her chapters, she is able to bring in the strengths of prose, poetry, journalism and even comic strips to tell her tales. Because these storytelling styles are used infrequently, they are effective; if each chapter brought a new style, the styles would become a gimmick, not a tool. It is this same approach that Klein brings to her themes and metaphors. Transportation and the freeway are metaphors seen throughout the novel, but because they are used as support for already strong stories, the reader is not weighed down. Likewise, thematic elements–primarily the strength of women–are not emphasized. Rather, they are allowed to exist in subtext, where they are given ample room to develop and grow.

A list traveling miles long could be created, detailing how citizens of our society are becoming detached from each other, but Klein gives us one good reason as to why we should reunite. Whether you’re a young, gay man who works at a taco hut or the ex-roommate of a now-famous actress, everyone is looking for the same thing. We all just want to make a connection.

Porn In The USA…

How many times have you stood uncomfortably in an adult bookstore staring at what seemed to be literally thousands of adult movies, your clueless expression revealing that while you know you enjoy films of this persuasion, the difference between Sodomania 15 and Sodomania 28 escapes you. And while you may be brave enough to rent Rocco Ravishes Russia from the silent clerk behind the counter stacked with lube and condoms, can you look him or her in the eyes and inquire what title a person who enjoys naturally busty women in outdoor love scenes should purchase? AVN–Adult Video News–is here to release you from your frustration with its humorous tome The AVN Guide to the 500 Greatest Adult Films of All Time.

With just more than two decades of experience as the leading trade publication in the adult industry, AVN guides us through 500 films it’s chosen from the history of pornography that are noteworthy for their content or context. The films, listed alphabetically, are from a wide variety of genres that envelop everything from Hollywood spoofs to Gonzo fetish films; after all, different strokes for different folks. The opening title, Paris Hilton’s 1 Night In Paris, sets the mood for the rest of the book; the editors know what this is, and they never attempt to make it into something artistic or apologetic.

AVN’s guide is about pornography in all of its dirty, sick, perverted and often humorous filth. The editors do not hold back in detailing why Whack Attack 2 garnered the 1999 AVN Award for Best Gonzo Video–yes, the adult industry has its own form of the Academy Awards, in which, since 1984, statues, often referred to as Woodies, have gone to the Best Film, Best Director, Best All Girl Sex Scene and numerous other categories. Much like Hollywood movie guides that chronicle the Oscars, this volume includes a listing of the AVN Awards at the rear of the book.

You may feel inclined to trace the trends of the adult movie industry, examining what sold as eroticism in the 1970s compared with what sells today. Fetishes, beauty and passion all have been continuously redefined through the past few decades. Titles that are labeled as “ethnic-themed” in this book are largely absent before the early 1990s; a separate AVN Award category was created for “ethnic-themed” titles in 1995 and expanded into three subcategories–Asian, Black and Latino–in 2004. An award for boy-boy videos is not given; girl-girl videos have been recognized by AVN since 1990.

The most appealing aspect of this book is the humor separating movie reviews. With Top Ten lists on dos and don’ts for male porn stars and a mathematical approach to the amount of semen never given a chance to fertilize an egg because of its ill placement, the laughs do not stop from beginning to end. While titles such as Quantum Deep and Edward Penishands provide light chuckles, it is the matter-of-fact reviews composed of phrases like “as usual for this popular series, a gangbang winds things up” that emphasize the dual nature of the amusement pornography provides to our society: one of humor and sexuality. Pornography bares as much resemblance to our actual sex lives as WrestleMania does to the Summer Olympics. Horribly written dialogue is spoken by painfully unaware actors in breaks between the meat of the film: a self-indulgent fantasy designed, in its flawless nature, to supplement the sometimes awkward stumbling that intersperses our own sex lives.

There is no mistaking that this book is built to provide those who enjoy pornography with a list of must-see films, but at the same time, AVN puts a mirror up to a society that produces almost 12,000 adult films a year, making us look closely at what we view as eroticism in our culture.

Incidentally, while Sodomania 28 made the list, Sodomania 15 was nowhere to be seen. Now the choice should be easy.