Despair Manifest
2004-11-12,

The world this week mourns the passing of an author, of which I'd not before her death heard - Iris Chang. She's the author of, among other things, a book called The Rape of Nanking, about the 1937 control and horrific abuse by the occupying Japanese army of the then Chinese capital and its civilians. Rape, torture, mutilation, experiments, you name it; happy, happy stuff for the topic of a book. She became something of an acclaimed author, especially on the subject of Chinese-American cultural history.

From reports by people close to her, including her husband, she became depressed during the time she was researching the subject of that book, and who can blame her. She grew up with stories about Nanking from her grandparents, so it had been a part of her life since childhood.

Earlier this week, she committed suicide. Speculation was that it had been too much for her, that she had seen too much of the darker side of humanity.

So what's my angle? As I was driving home, listening to a news feature on her life and death, I found myself sympathetic, relating to the concept of understanding beyond the ability to cope, something I got a grasp of in Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, from Phaedrus. Phaedrus searched for meaning until he got so deep into it that he lost touch with reality; he dove in dead first and didn't come up for air. I think that's what may have happened to Ms. Chang as well, in some sense. Or at least that's what I take from it, not knowing all the facts of the matter. As I've always said, "Ignorance is bliss, and awareness is hell," although I feel like I take more of a perfectionist tack on the matter. I've always felt that if something's not going to be done right, it shouldn't be done at all - or at least that's been my ideal. Realistically, I think it's been a factor in my non-pursuit of a career. Not being able to fully delve into something has kept me from doing a lot of things entirely. I'm slowly getting myself to work past that stupid and non-constructive concept. Who, knows, maybe one day I'll decide to fully apply myself like my high school teachers kept implying all that time.

-- End Transmission --