Dear Mr. Cortazar, It didn't happen near Paris . . . .

, no,

it happened in China.

Julio Cortazar wrote a story

that I have always admired,

and wondered if it could ever really be possible.

It was called "The Southern Thruway"

("Le Autopista del Sur")

Here is a brief summary of it:

The southern thruway

Summary:The Quiller
Julio Cortázar describes a huge traffic jam on the thruway between Fontainebleau and Paris. It’s a Sunday afternoon and, as the hours go by, the travellers get knowing each other. Two nuns in a 2HV, a young woman in a Dauphine, a pale man who drives a Caravelle, a countryside couple with their little daughter in a Peugeot 203, two irritating youngsters in a SIMCA, a Peugeot 404, a Taunus, etc. They’re totally stuck under the summer heat. Some get out to stretch their legs and, as they return, bring disturbing and almost always false news about the reasons for the traffic jam. Everybody talks about the facts. They hear of a collision between two cars (three casualties and an injuried boy), or of a collision between a Fiat 1500 and an Austin full of tourists, or of the fall of a bus with passengers from the Copenhagen’s plane. Everything is supposition. The latest piece of news is that a small plane had crashed, with a total of many casualties, onto the very thruway.
  As the night comes, the column makes its first important advance, of only 40 metres. Soon the water and the food begin to end and, although everybody helps one another, they must ration everything all out. Most sleep in the cars, and others on the field next to the thruway. In the morning, they advance very little, but no one loses their hopes that, in that afternoon, the route to Paris would be open. However, nothing happens and all remains still. Groups with a representative ahead are formed in order to coordinate the assistance to the weakest. Some fall ill, and the worst happens at the night when the cold starts. So that they can go away walking, someone deserts the place and leaves their car abandoned. An elderly woman passes away, and, in general, the story abounds with descriptions of how terrifying can be human behaviour in an impossible situation. When they finally begin to move, the characters return to their normal lives, and there’s even a romance that had started and cannot have a happy-ending.
The southern thruway Originally published in Shvoong: http://www.shvoong.com/books/353369-southern-thruway/

Well,

Cortazar thought it would happen near Paris.

He was off by a few thousand km --

it happened in China.

Here's the NPR story about it:

Cortazar imagines people starting relationships,

getting entangled,

giving birth,

and then suddenly,

as traffic loosens up

the relationship dissolve

and people disappear from each others' lives

as quickly as they entered it,

in this most accidental way:

 Recent reports say 

the Chinese traffic jam has just disappeared,

just as in the Cortazar story.

( inhabit.com )

read the letter

* 

I'm an absolutely miserable blogger.

When I write,

I write in abundance.

When I don't write it's because my mind is

a blank,

an empty page waiting for the words to form.

Blankness is frustrating.

Sometimes it's far more useful

when a creator at least has

a mold,

a model

of some kind
in which to shape
the message.

* * 

( firstschool )

Remember when paper looked

like that?

When the challenge of writing was not

to produce meaning,

but rather,

to produce shapes within a prescribed space?

I really loved learning to print because

it was like artwork;

it was also a little like

playing bumper cars,

or something like that.

My pen was the car,

bumping from hard line to hard line

passing through the dashed line,

grateful that it was there to guide me on my course.

There were certain letters I loved 

to produce:

SSSSSSSSssssssss

GGGGGGggggggg

AAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaa

RPRPRPRPRPrrrrpppp

fabulous shapes that arched through those lines

in such interesting ways.

I loved looking for the points of balance:
the two corresponding curves in the
S,
the slopes of the
V

There was something else about those letters

that I love the most: 

I really felt they were shaped

like the sound they made.

I felt that writing them was the act

of finding an exact graphic representation

on the sounds I made in my mouth.

So too was the case with

XXXXXXXX

KKKKKKK

TTTTTTTT

UUUUUUU
VVVVVVVVVVV

and of course

OOOOOOOOOO

***

While I was in Greece

recently,

I had the pleasure of being with Greek people

who had some knowledge not only of how to read 

Modern Greek

but also

Ancient Greek.

It is interesting to stand at an ancient site

and hear people sounding out the letters there.

When the sounds and the shapes were put together, they even made sense to me.

And I had a little revelation.

Well, it was and is one of my funky little theories,
one of those things
that happens in my mind
when everyone else thinks
I'm zoning out.

It went like this:

***

( omniglot )


I recently met a Chinese woman who explained to me
the evolution of written Chinese.

Fundamentally, written Chinese is a series of pictographs --
each sign contains
a series of strokes
the work together to produce
an impression of a complete idea.

Originally,
the script was more recognizably pictoral,
but over time it became more abstract:

( commons.wikimedia )

This type of writing is called hànzi and I'm a little afraid
to try to explain much else about it,
because it's such a different
system for me.  I'm just beginning
to understand it.
Follow the link on the word hànzi and it
will bring you to yet another site
that explains the strokes
and the writing a little more.

Keep in mind that within this system,
one block of strokes
represents an entire concept,
and as new concepts have emerged,
different combinations of existing signs
have been used to signify those new concepts,
as you can see below,
and the translations are
amusing:

(the wikipedia article on this system
also appears to be
pretty helpful)


Notably,
when a young Chinese student is learning to write,
she doesn't use that three-lined paper
that we in the West use.

She does have paper to help her,
but notice how it emphasizes isolated squares;
it's really much more like
a grid

( cantonese )

For anyone who
has dared to read other entries
in this blog,
especially those
where the keyword is
"grid"
you can imagine I might
go a little crazy right now with the implications of this.
But I won't because that's not the purpose
of this entry.

Rather my purpose here
is to think about
the writing system itself,
how it is produced,
and the fact that it is,
at its very root,
historically,
representational.

Chinese writing began as an attempt to represent,
as an artist would,
the world that the writer viewed.
Its basis is concrete
and grounded in
observable outside phenomenon.
Unlike Western script.



or so we have thought, for a very very long time.


****

( ancientscripts )

I had had this rather fascinating introduction
to written Chinese
right before I left
on my trip to my own
ancient homeland.

And then I found myself wandering through ruins,
looking at an ancient script
that my guide claimed
any Modern Greek
could read today.

My own Greek
is long gone,
forgotten on the waves or torments
of time and history,
but I read along with my companions
as we looked at the worn inscriptions,
and I was amazed at how much
I could actually hear in my head.
My amazement continued
when I began to feel I knew why:
it was fairly easy.

Because of the way they were presented for me,
with each letter framed by a box,
I imagined that the box itself
was the frame for creating the form of the letter, and
I decided that those ancient letters were
representational.
But they did not represent
a cow, or a mountain, or a mother,
no
I decided that the boxy frame
defined the space of the mouth,
and the drawings within that box
represented where I was supposed to put
my tongue inside my mouth,
and how to hold my lips,
as I produced sound:

Θ, for instance,
told me to put my tongue
between my teeth
with my lips slightly open --
th is the sound it makes.

Γ told me to hold my tongue
pressed against
the top of my mouth,
and curve the tip of it
down to the bottom of my mouth
and press it there.

Do it, the sound you produce will be "g"
which is what that represents.

Δ is the tip of the tongue
against the front of the mouth,
a harder obstruction to that frontal space
than Λ,

Δ, by the way, is "D"
Λ is "L".

Now if you look at the chart above,
you can see the letters
changed from place to place,
but in general
my funny little rule applies,

and I began to think that writing,
as we know it in the Western World,
may actually be more representational
than we give it credit it for.

In fact, here is an alphabet
that precedes the Greek
that even more fully exemplifies
my thoughts:

( historian )


Many today may argue
(like Saussure)
that Western words and letters are
arbitrarily chosen,
and demand a high level of
abstract thinking.
I'd agree with the latter part of that
equation,
because clearly,
the Western alphabet,
just like written Chinese
has evolved over time
and moved so far away
from its original source
that  it is all abstraction and
seemingly random.
We don't so clearly
see the original pictures;

If you agree they are pictures.

And what I'm thinking is they are pictures
of the inside of the mouth:

( soundsofenglish )


graphically representing the face
and the contortions it must make
to produce the sounds
that make up words.

In a sense, reading languages that use this type of alphabet
is much more
laborious
than Chinese,
because you must be
much more patient
to read Western languages,
putting one sound after another
in a line, until words, then sentences,
then paragraphs
are decoded.

This type of writing dooms us to
linear thought.
(Linear writing and thinking
are two parts of a trinity,
and the third is
time.)

Yet, it also allows for more flexibility,
more words, and perhaps
more subtlety of meaning.

*/*

The other point my mind went to,
as I contemplated this theory
was the relationship between the scribe and the exterior world
suggested in both types of writing systems:

As I say above,
the Chinese system represents
concrete, identifiable
objects that exist
outside of the writer/scribe/viewer.
It is a system
where the writer
represents his ideas by showing the world
he observes.
There is little sense of the person doing
the actual writing.

 (Metropolitan Museum postcard)
( brooklyn.cuny )


Whereas in the Western system,
it's all about representing something
that is happening in the writer's body--
it's a very somatic and physical form of representation
located solely in the body
of the writer.
It has everything to do with the changes
that the outside world
does to the body of the speaker,
and has little to do
with representing the outside world itself.

If you get what I mean.

Historically, Chinese script is more about external objects,
representing them,
knowing about them;
while
Western script claims a subject,
and the subject is
the writer himself.

Notably,
the first-person pronoun
in Greek
is

"ego"