Seoul, November 26-27
Hey Jack,
Unlike previous letters, I am writing this around midnight. The Poland – Saudi Arabia game ended just minutes ago. I’m skeptical whether creativity flows just as well now as it does early morning, but there is only one way to find out. The World Cup is messing with my daily rhythm. After a nightly session yesterday, I plan to give the Danes and the French a viewing in about an hour. A good moment to jot down some of the thoughts I collected over the past couple of days. Yes, I’m well aware much of this is possible only because I hold no responsibility for the well-being of a little baby, neither will the lack of sleep practically kill me in the near future.
The Polish beat Saudi Arabia undeservedly if you ask me. All too often football these days is driven by numbers, stats and data and I’m sure all the analysts have sufficient arguments to proof me wrong about the reality of this match. It’s not the point. The Saudi’s played with their heart, they overpowered the Polish for a large part of the game, and they simply deserved a draw. Call me outdated, call me traditional, everything that says ‘you can no longer…in football these days…’ is factually correct but for me it’s still about the beauty of the game, about that one individual, the first touch, about the energy of a collective trying to level up to the big boys, about having fun in what happens on the pitch. And yes, that’s also in being the better half but losing. Or in winning three outstanding group matches with high scores and then losing a silly 1-0 in the 1/16th round. For a team never to be heard of after. The Saudi’s surprised the world with a win over Argentina, and today they were the motivated and happy side and for that I applaud them. They deserved a point. With Argentina and Mexico later tonight, all teams will have everything to play for in the third round and I will be cheering for the Saudi’s.
Yesterday I went to sleep with a similar feeling having watched Ecuador play The Netherlands. Ecuador didn’t only deserve the draw they got, they deserved the full three points. The Dutch stole a point. Thievery worthy of an East Indian Trade reminder. Disgusting. They should have gotten no points, and for the worst game in Dutch World Cup history (proven by number crunchers!) they should have had a point deducted, if it was up to me. But hey, these things – unfortunately – are never up to me. Gakpo, who is applauded by many in The Netherlands, scored a great goal after 5 minutes, and was never seen after. As can be said for almost the entire team. All too often with games between a lower ranked underdog and one of the top contenders, I feel it ultimately comes down to the individual having fun on the pitch. For many of the top players, having an annual calendar full of Champions League and World Cup drama, the matches against unknown, uninteresting opponents seem to be too much to go out for and just give it their everything. They’re so disconnected from everyday life, they even forget the (financial) sacrifices made by Average Joe and his family. Even though I can understand it’s more difficult to be motivated for a game of lesser allure, but still, simply by means of the fun of the game you should be able to bring some creativity, speed, or motivation. Players like Modric, Ziyech, Eriksen, players who still play as if they just started playing football, they always bring something to the pitch for the spectators to enjoy whether the rest of their team lets us down or not.
I just realised that professional football is probably the worst topic for us to choose to write on. I’d like to speak of the beauty of the game, but end up ranting about the same over and over.
When we came up with the Straight Read project, you suggested we would read a little about or from the countries participating in the cup. Coincidentally (or maybe not?) with Saudi Arabia and Ecuador standing out for me on the pitch, we also find us with two countries you and I both had never read from. And two countries we ‘allocated’ to me. I read The Spanish Daughter by Lorena Hughes, a novel in Ecuador, and Raif Badawi; The Voice of Freedom by Ensaf Haidar, a non-fiction account written by a Saudi Arabian author on the imprisonment of her husband. Both books were not particularly pleasurable reads, although the latter one was quite informative. As I’m reading quite some translated Korean literature, I became more aware of the art that is book translation, and the difference a good translation can make. The translation to English may be the problem for both Hughes’ novel as for Haidar’s memoir. I’m not sure. Both books technically remain very flat throughout.
Seoul, November 28
I got caught in a match. And then some.
The Spanish Daughter is a historical fiction account of a woman arriving in her home country Ecuador – she lives in Spain – to claim her share of her late father’s heritage. We’re talking early 20th century, so she and her husband cross the ocean to South America by ship. Apparently somebody in Ecuador is not too keen on her arriving to claim the heritage, as her husband is killed during the crossing. To not arouse too much emotion and aggression from her family, she decides to take on her husband’s identity, fooling everyone for the largest part of the story. Now in modern times with strong binary and non-binary claims being made through Instagram biographies, I can see that work for a while, but at the start of the 1900’s? They can’t fool me. The lady also happens to be a specialist at chocolate making back home in Spain. An undiscovered art in Ecuador as yet. The family – and with them the entire village – is known for its cacao bean production, but have never tasted the sweet joys of chocolate themselves until her(/his) arrival. They ain’t fooling me, Jack, I don’t buy it. It’s one of the few books on/from Ecuador I could get my hands on and that’s a pity. Having read some incredible books from other Latin American countries (Marquez, Vasquez, Allende, Bolaño), I would assume Ecuador too have a rich literature history and I was keen to widen my country horizon. Although not in the cup this year, can you ask Fatima for a good Peruvian book recommendation for me?
The story of Raif Badawi and his imprisonment in Saudi Arabia is an intense account of the cruelty that still simmers underneath all the expressions of wealth coming from this part of the Middle East. So deeply ingrained in Saudi, but also Qatari society that it seems impossible to cover up for the outside world. We’re seeing blobs of ugliness popping up every day now, and people in the west are still surprised. A level of naivety that’s hard to comprehend. So, Raif Badawi, husband and father, arrested on claims both unproven as well as un-illegal from a secular and democratic perspective. Aside from an innocent man from a wealthy background being imprisoned, separated from his family, losing any hope of an optimistic future, the thing that struck me most is the dependency of women in Saudi Arabia. Obviously I’m aware we’re still working for a world where gender gaps are closed and ultimately become obsolete, and we are nowhere near a good situation yet, but Saudi Arabia is another reality. Often comparisons with medieval times are drawn when we speak about regimes and cultures that still uphold outdated values, but I wonder if the treatment of women in, let’s say, Netherlands in the 1600’s was as horrid as it is now in Saudi Arabia. I’m probably being naive myself here too. Her husband is locked up in prison, and now authority over Ensaf, the author, automatically falls back to her father and brothers. Fiercely against her marriage in the first place, they get the right to annul the marriage without further discussion. Ensaf and her kids find a way out of the country, they move to Canada and from what I understand her husband has recently been set free, after years and years of imprisonment. Hopefully being able to join the family in Canada.
I find that memoirs and biographies often end up repeating certain aspects over and over, to the detriment of the story being told and this one is not an exception. What do you think, is this similar to all those meaningless projects we had to ‘execute’, as ordered by the VP people up above? It starts of with a lot of energy, ideas and well-intended motivation, and over time most people lose their interest, progress slows down, and things end up being shelved without notice more often than with spotlights. I read somewhere that everyone has sufficient content to write at least one book in their lifetime. Tell me Jack, is there a small voice in you, somewhere hidden behind all the more pressing obligations, that urges you to write a book one day? And if so, would you be able to keep writing and editing until you’ve reached the right finish line? I am not sure whether you would like to write a book, but if so, then yes, I’m certain you would push, and push, and push some more, all the way until the bitter end.
With his collection of work as proof, Knausgaard by now presumably has justified to his family that he needs to sit down to write daily. It would be interesting to know whether he and his friend intended their correspondence to end up becoming a book from the start already. Whether they simply continued a thing they were doing recreationally, realising they had something valuable in their hands. So yes, that’s one, he is an author and his family knows he is. Add to that your dedication to all your daily tasks – not to be underestimated! – and we see why this is easier for Karl Ove than for you. As said before though, it is difficult for me to speculate about your schedule and what you should be able to do and what not. I am in a different situation, and have no similar experience to draw from. Whether employed or not, with kids or without, I think we should always be able to carve out some time in the day for some hobby time. Especially in a first world country like the ones we are privileged to live in. Whether you use that to run, to practise the trumpet, to satisfy a baklava addiction or to write a couple of words to a friend, that’s for you to decide. All good causes one can argue for!
One thing to this though, and this is both the most obvious but also the best thought I can leave you with. Put the phone down! I realise I can also not do without completely, if only for the nagging feeling of guilt of family and friends being there and me being here, half a planet apart. But put it down. It’s not so hard as you tell yourself it is. Just put it down. Delete all the news and social media apps, and put it down. Check news and social media on a laptop or tablet in the evening at home. You don’t need to know the news when you are in the library, you don’t need to check Strava when buying baklava. (There’s potential for some great rhyming here!) My phone stays on the little bench just behind our front door (is a front door still a front door if there’s no back door?), I allow myself to use the phone only when sitting on that bench and it’s a wooden, uncomfortable bench. Only an idiot would sit there for a longer period. Oh, and I bought an alarm. Just one of those ‘give me a proper slap in the morning’ alarm clocks. No more phone near the bed. Go to Hema and buy one. Best couple of euro’s you’ll spend in a long time.
I’m off to watch a movie for a change. You still owe me a new picture of your son.
Jitse
I just realise I also read this essay from Knausgaard before. Some rambling on his writing life. I don’t remember him mentioning his family and how he handles the family-writing balance but you might want to give it a try. It’s a one-evening read.