Arms and the Man by Bernard Shaw
Bernard Shaw is a writer that I come to admire through years. But just as what is written in the introduction, his works never intends to please the reader. Rather, he "only succeeded in proving that absolutely rational men and women--although he has created few of the latter--can be most extremely disagreeable to our conventional way of thinking."
And sometimes, Shaw could create the effect of intimidation when he seems to believe in what he says about humanity rather than intend to present it in a humorous or cynical way, and that often makes the reader uncomfortable.
However, Arms and the Man is a more comfortable work, compared with Major Barbara or Ibsen's work. Somehow I feel that this play is more like that of Wilde's, exposing the hypocrisy of the rich. This is a play about being practical, even about war. Even though Raina and Sergius endeavor to maintain the old-fashioned, medieval, and aristocratic atmosphere of knights and high ladies, what they are, essentially, is the modern bourgeois that emerges out of business and industry. Ironically, while Sergius and Raina are ignorant about the cruelty of war, the experienced, rational, cold officer Bluntschili is ignorant about daily life and misunderstands Raina's intention as well as age. Nevertheless, as most Victorian plays, they all end in marriage, happily naturally.
Talents, Incorporated by Murray Leinster
This is a sweet story. I mean, it is like a fairy tale wrapped in a robe of science fiction, especially the last "they live happily hereafter" scene. But well, sometimes magic and science work the same for me as they attempt to realize the wonder, the inconceivable.
Another magic is those talents who perform various incredible tricks. But again, what is the difference between prophets and lunatics? Perhaps the difference lies not only in faith but also in results. And well, our animal brain might in fact perform better than the most advanced computer, it is just that we have not found the way to make the best of it yet.
Nevertheless, if you put aside these complicated questions, you could still enjoy the smooth writing and the little romance of the story.
Beasts, Men, and Gods by Ferdinand Ossendowski
Trans. Lewis Stanton Palen
What is more exotic? The place never-been or the place familiar but seen through strange perspective? In this book, what interests more is indeed the description of those familiar but strange places, namely, Mongolia and Tibet. As a person with Chinese culture upbringing, what I feel about Mongolia and Tibet is invariably tinged with the fantasy of "the (noble) barbarian." Thus, it is quite refreshing for me to read what a foreigner saw Mongolia and Tibet. Ossendowski definitely sympathizes with Mongolian and Tibet, and, in his text, contemporary Chinese government is seen with unfavorable eyes. But that's all right since Ossendowski provides singular experiences of their daily life as well as religious meditation in a specific historical moment. And that is more real and even touching for me than those grandiose defeats and conquests taught in my historical text books.
I specifically like the passage Ossendowski lauds Mongolia in chapter XVII：
In the heart of Asia lies the enormous, mysterious and rich country of Mongolia. From somewhere on the snowy slopes of the Tian Shan and from the hot sands of Western Zungaria to the timbered ridges of the Sayan and to the Great Wall of China it stretches over a huge portion of Central Asia. The cradle of peoples, histories and legends; the native land of bloody conquerors, who have left here their capitals covered by the sand of the Gobi, their mysterious rings and their ancient nomad laws; the states of monks and evil devils, the country of wandering tribes administered by the descendants of Jenghiz Khan and Kublai Khan—Khans and Princes of the Junior lines: that is Mongolia.
Mysterious country of the cults of Rama, Sakkia-Mouni, Djonkapa and Paspa, cults guarded by the very person of the living Buddha—Buddha incarnated in the third dignitary of the Lamaite religion—Bogdo Gheghen in Ta Kure or Urga; the land of mysterious doctors, prophets, sorcerers, fortune-tellers and witches; the land of the sign of the swastika; the land which has not forgotten the thoughts of the long deceased great potentates of Asia and of half of Europe: that is Mongolia.
The land of nude mountains, of plains burned by the sun and killed by the cold, of ill cattle and ill people; the nest of pests, anthrax and smallpox; the land of boiling hot springs and of mountain passes inhabited by demons; of sacred lakes swarming with fish; of wolves, rare species of deer and mountain goats, marmots in millions, wild horses, wild donkeys and wild camels that have never known the bridle, ferocious dogs and rapacious birds of prey which devour the dead bodies cast out on the plains by the people: that is Mongolia.
The land whose disappearing primitive people gaze upon the bones of their forefathers whitening in the sands and dust of their plains; where are dying out the people who formerly conquered China, Siam, Northern India and Russia and broke their chests against the iron lances of the Polish knights, defending then all the Christian world against the invasion of wild and wandering Asia: that is Mongolia.
The land swelling with natural riches, producing nothing, in need of everything, destitute and suffering from the world's cataclysm: that is Mongolia.
It is like Mongolia is no longer a collection of misty imaginations, but a real land that benefits as well as suffers from its inhabitants and its neighbors.