Rick Simonson

Beijing, Day 3: Suddenly, It's Us
January 22, 2008

BEIJING, Tuesday, January 8
This being a slowly unfolding account of a recent US/UK booksellers/librarians trip to Beijing ...

Come the morning, some idle wondering about what shape the day will take. There's quiet time in the room. At some point, there is descent down to the hotel dining room. Perhaps Paul (Ya,azaki) will be there. Perhaps our day will take some shape. I can't imagine what it can be after the two days we've had.

Coming around a corner, I see Paul. But Paul does not seem to be alone. Suddenly, it's ... us. It's Karl Pohrt of Shaman Drum, it's Allison Hill of Vroman's - spotted briefly the morning before, now here again. She wasn't a fleeting apparition ... and isn't that Sarah McNally working her way through the buffet area? All of these westerners, now very apparent.

At once, it's both good to see everyone and a bit jarring. There's the reminder in seeing everyone that we are here for work, for duty, for getting up onstage at some point and presenting. It is so not where I feel up to being ... and it isn't where I'll have to be for a few days yet. There's also the surprised feeling Karl, Sarah, Paul and I now share - we four had last seen each other not that long ago, doing a panel on translated literature in Miami. Miami, the far, far side of North America from the hotel dining room we're sitting in. Miami, about sixty degrees Fahrenheit from where we are, too.

Everyone has their travel and arrival stories.

Until evening, our time is still our own. A loose plan of going to the central places - where Paul and I have been - unfolds. Wherever we've been, there is more to see, and what's been seen can be seen again. The plan will go somewhat awry - two cabs being taken to get us all to a designated meeting place get lost, even as I think one or both might have been able to deduce destinations - there were maps in Chinese helping with where we wanted to go. Nevertheless, the plan to be a fivesome, leaves a twosome of Paul and Sarah, and a threesome of Karl, Allison, and myself. It's a bright, sunny day. We see places: Tiananmen Square, the Forbidden City. We see people. We meander and mosey, a neighborhood place is found for a relaxed lunch. We go to Tientan Gongyuan, or Temple of Heaven Park. So far, it's my favorite place in Beijing.

Sometime in late afternoon, after time spent beginning to wrap the mind around various dynasties (including a series of photographs of Hall of Prayer for Good Harvests with Mao, Ho Chi Minh, and Richard Nixon, among others) time forgotten becomes time remembered, and we're back to the hotel to ready for the beginning of officially being here.

Early evening, assembling in our hotel lobby, the rest of the whole contingent finally becomes apparent to me - there is Brooklyn librarian Barbara Genco, here are British booksellers Sheryl  Shurville, Patrick Neale, and Ron Johns, and British librarian Andrew McDonald. A few of our hosts whom we've met - and been met at the airport by - are here once again. Transporting us turns out to be a pedestrian affair: we're outside, on a walkway under the roadway, and shortly in a lovely restaurant.

There others and seen and met. For Paul and I, it's seeing Ou Hong - the editor in chief of China Publishing Today - once again. Seating at this, and at all other meals we subsequently have, is by one's own choice. There's no pre-arranging gone on. My tablemates include Paul, well across the way, Ou Hong, and at least two people from Sichuan Xinhua Winshare Chainstores, our cohosts, along with the people of China Publishing Today. One is Tan Ao, who by her card is 'head of listing office, and based in Chengdu. The other is Mr. Yang Miao, who is one of the officers of his company.

I have the thought that here it is, the eve of their book fair, with any other number of possible dinners and social occasions these important people could be attending and they are here with the likes of us. I hope we're up to this. The others, I suspect, will be. Of myself, I'm not so sure.

Welcoming remarks are made, those by Mr. Yang translated. Ou Hong gives some basic information about book publishing in China: that there are 130,000 new titles published a year, that approximately 5,000 of these are translations, most of those from literary works and the social sciences. There are over 570 state publishers listed, of whom more than half are in Beijing. 33, she says, are in Shanghai, and then some other cities - Chengdu, Xian - are mentioned. If it goes from 300 or so in Beijing to 30-some in Shanghai, it would seem the rest of the publishing base is fairly scattered around the country.

I'm not sure who is at the other of the two tables, nor what the mix of hosts and guests are there, but at this table, as with others that will take place over the next few days, there is this pleasant assessing and sorting out of who can speak what. I can already tell that none of us visiting can speak any Chinese. I did try to work on things before leaving, but all of this was so sudden, and it was December. I have a few phrases and words, but outside of the words for book and bookshops - shu and shudian - not many are pertinent for working conversation. There are people at the table who can translate. Sometimes there are moments such as the one where I'm wanting to ask Tan Ao, across the table, something about her work in Chengdu. The person who could best translate is helping others with talk for the moment, so Ms. Tan and I do this little smile, a gesture to say we'll wait, and then, eventually, some talk goes back and forth. It's also interesting, sitting next to Ms. Ou, asking her things such as where in Beijing she works, where she lives, what her commute is. There's talk of where work takes her, where she has been.

Even though much of the talking is slow, deliberate, because of language comprehension and/or translation, I enjoy the slower pace. There's frustration in knowing one won't get anywhere near where one might in conversation - I have my careen-along tendencies, for sure - but there's also pleasure in doing this all slowly. I try not to think of too many questions there won't be time to answer. They do pile up ...

The evening, in time, winds down. All gracious and pleasant it's been. I'll never be sure who all of our group has prepared in what ways for being here - none of us seems up in any way on the language - but everyone I talk to seems to have some knowledge of 'banquet' customs, which guidebooks spell out. A whole course of toasts, of emptying one's glass in single bounds, of expected drunken stuporage is laid out in these books, most saying, just try to hold what you drink, they're doing this, too. I know I'm concerned as to how I'll hold up. As it turns out, there are a few raising of the wine glass toasts at the beginning, but nothing more. It's sips along the way.

It's thanks and good night then. I hear someone ask Ou Hong if we will see her the next day, when we - and presumably she - are at the Beijing Book Fair. I smile when I hear the question - she'll have a million places to be, just like her U.S. counterpart, Sara Nelson is at a BEA. A proverbial moving target. Getting this kind of time and quiet talk has been a gift, a real pleasure. Friday, though, we will see her again - the day of our panel, and the concluding dinner that will follow.

Day three is over.

Posted by Rick Simonson on January 22, 2008 | Comments (0)