Showing posts with label Thailand. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Thailand. Show all posts

Monday, December 17, 2012

The Thrill of Discovery

By Lisabet Sarai

For the next two weeks here at Oh Get a Grip, we're going to be talking about what we've been reading lately. The timing is fortuitous, since only a few days ago I finished one of the best books I've read in very long time, The Windup Girl by Paolo Bacigalupi.

My husband picked up this fat science fiction opus at a used bookstore. Although we often confer about our finds before purchasing them (conserving funds – and space – means buying books we both would consider reading), I didn't really look at this one. I think we might have been in a rush. Anyway, he began perusing the book before I did. We'd sit in bed together reading, and I'd hear “Wow!” or “This is really dark!” or “I can't believe this guy isn't Thai” coming regularly from his side. He kept this up through the entire five hundred odd pages. I knew I had to read it.

The Windup Girl takes place in a dystopic world perhaps a hundred years in the future, during “the Contraction”. Humanity has used up all the petroleum on the planet, leaving biomethane, coal and animal (or human) power as the main sources of energy. Much of humanity hovers on the edge of famine as a few Monsanto-like corporations (the “calorie companies”) control most of the world's genetic material, producing sterile (and of course patented) U-Tex Rice, TotalNutrient Wheat, HiGro Corn and SoyPRO. Genetic modification (“genehacking”) has also produced new plagues and pests that have devastated the ecosystem, making the world even more dependent on the calorie companies. The book implies though never states that at least some of these blights were deliberately engineered to decimate natural genetic diversity and increase dependence on AgriGen, PureCal and their ilk.

Thailand, however, has been spared from the worst of this ecological disaster, largely due to the vigilance of the powerful Environment Ministry, which works to keep unauthorized GM products and raw materials for generipping out of the kingdom. Anderson Lake, an AgriGen employee, visits Bangkok under false pretenses, trying to locate the source of the old-fashioned, natural fruits and vegetables (tomatoes, eggplants and other items unseen for generations) that regularly appear in Bangkok's markets. Lake plots with the Ministry of Trade, Environment's traditional enemy, to undermine the Environment Ministry and uncover its hidden seed bank.

The “calorie man” Lake is only one of many vivid characters in this drama, however. There's Captain Jaidee, known as the Tiger, a former Thai boxer who now leads Environment's enforcement – a man who earns both his real name (which means “good heart”), for his generosity and sense of humor, and his sobriquet, due to his ferocity. His somber, dutiful lieutenant Kanya is his polar opposite, grimly pursuing her own understanding of justice. Hock Seng is Lake's lackey at the factory that serves as cover for his genetic researchers. A former wealthy merchant, Hock Seng is now a stateless refugee after horrific massacres of the Malaysian Chinese by Muslim Malays. And at the center of the story is Emiko, the “windup girl” of the title, engineered in Japan as a secretary and companion but then abandoned by her owner in Bangkok. Emiko is in some sense the ultimate fruit of the genetic manipulation that has crippled the earth, but she may also be the planet's future.

The last scifi book I read before The Windup Girl was China Mieville's The Scar. When I reviewed that book, I commented that it included some brilliant ideas – possibly too many of them. Paolo Bacigalupi strikes just the right balance, throwing out fascinating notions about possible futures but never straying too far from his central themes. The book is very tightly written (if you can say that about a 500 page novel!). It kept me on edge to the very last page; I really couldn't predict the (surprisingly positive) ending.

All of the above would be enough to make me recommend The Windup Girl. However, on top of intriguing characters, a shocking yet plausible premise, and plenty of action and intrigue, this book demonstrates an incredible understanding of Thailand – environment, culture, politics and psyche. I know Thailand well. I lived there for several years in the eighties and now I visit it often. I can scarcely believe how perfectly Mr. Bacigalupi has captured the realities and the contradictions of the Thais. They embrace technology and yet they continue to guard their economy from outsiders. They're peaceful Buddhists and violent thugs. The competition between Trade and Environment, the double-dealing and corruption, could have been taken from today's headlines in the Bangkok Post.

Bacigalupi is spot on in his description of the environment, too – the heat and humidity, the vibrant street markets, the noise and the strange oases of quiet. His depiction of Bangkok holding the sea at bay with massive flood walls and coal-powered pumps may be only a decade or two away. Certainly, I could imagine it perfectly, having walked along the banks of the Chao Phaya River and seen the City of Angels meters deep in water.

This amazing verisimilitude made reading The Windup Girl almost a peak experience for me. I do wonder whether readers without my familiarity with Thailand will have the same reaction. On the other hand, the book won both the Nebula and the Hugo awards in 2010, the year it was published (a fact neither my husband nor I knew when we bought it), so I guess a good deal of the brilliance was obvious even to the uninitiated.

When my husband and I have both finished one of our used-book-store finds, we normally donate it to a charity for resale. The Windup Girl, though, has earned a place on our “keeper” bookshelves, along with Arthur Conan Doyle, Edgar Allen Poe, Gilbert and Sullivan, D.M. Thomas, Haruki Murakami, and Shakespeare. We've already sent one copy (new, of course) to a friend as a gift. I expect that will happen again.

If you enjoy intelligent science fiction – if you're concerned about environmental issues – if you have any interest in, or experience with, Thailand – read this book.

Sunday, November 15, 2009

In Sickness and in Hell

By Lisabet Sarai





How do you write sexy steamy stories when your temperature is over 103 degrees? Can you write a sex scene when you feel like your feet are about to come out your mouth and the toilet bowl is your best friend in the world right now?

Basically, write about writing while sick. Do you do it, or do you crawl in bed and stay there until you feel well again?

This week it's Helen's turn to pick our topic. Unfortunately she spent the last few weeks suffering from the flu, so it's not surprising she asked the questions above. Our Jude has also been down for the count for nearly two weeks, so I'm sure that she'll have some insights to share.

Fortunately, I have little to say on this subject. I'm probably tempting the gods by saying that I have not been really sick in a long time. Yes, I get the occasional cold, which makes my throat scratchy and my head feel like it's stuffed with mashed potatoes. I did have a mild gastrointestinal bug a few months ago that killed my appetite and kept me at home where the toilets are nice and clean. But I haven't been as ill as Helen describes in years.

Of course, my situation is easier than Helen's because I don't have two toddlers. Plus I'm not insane enough to commit to writing and recording a story a week, as she does for her Heat Flash series. (Maybe I'd have more readers if I did, but that's another topic.) As I've shared previously, I am deliberately conservative about what I promise, since I normally can write only once a week. So I'm rarely down to the wire even if I feel totally crappy.

That being said, I do make myself write on my scheduled days, even if I'm not feeling 100%. No excuses. Alright, there are some things more important than my writing, but if I am home on a Sunday, I'll be at the computer concocting as spicy a tale as I can manage.

The only experience I recall where I was writing under serious pressure and feeling quite horrible was one I shared in a post a few weeks ago. When I submitted my first novel to Black Lace, I didn't understand the critical importance of word count, especially for a print publication. My contract said 80,000 words or more. The manuscript I sent them was only about 72,000. I got an urgent email from the editor insisting that I make up the difference right away!

I had either a mild flu or a bad cold that weekend. Whatever it was, I was totally exhausted and my head felt like it was splitting apart. Still, I had to deliver the additional chapters by Monday. I wrote all weekend, 8K words. I don't know where I got the ideas or how I managed to get them down on the page, but somehow I managed. When I think back on it now, it's all a fog.

The odd thing is, the new chapter that I created that awful weekend is one of my favorites.

Raw Silk is the story of a woman who moves to Thailand in order to take a job and become sexually involved with two very different men: the charismatic, dominant proprietor of a go-go bar and a handsome, aristocratic and very married Thai sensualist. Kate participates in increasingly outrageous activities with each of them. Meanwhile, her American lover visits Bangkok, and Kate realizes she has to choose among the three of them. The climax (so to speak) of the tale is a contest in which each man strives to give her the maximum pleasure.

The chapter I wrote that unpleasant weekend takes place before the showdown. Somtow, the Thai, invites Kate to lunch at a hundred year old restaurant in Chinatown. The restaurant is segregated into private curtained booths. (I did not make this up!) After a sumptuous lunch (there is a lot of food in Raw Silk, including a sex scene that involves chilis), Somtow tries to weaken Kate's resolve not to have sex with any of her lovers until the day of the competition.




He rang for the waiter, and the dirty plates disappeared as quickly as they had arrived. The young man also brought them a fresh pot of tea.

When the curtains were closed again, Somtow reached into his pocket. He brought out a blue velvet box. "I hope that you will accept this, Katherine, as a token of my love and respect for you. As something to remember me by, perhaps."

Kate wanted to refuse the box, but the look in his eyes stopped her. Silently, she took it from him and opened it.

It was a sapphire necklace, an oval pendant on a delicate gold chain. It was unbelievably beautiful.

Kate was overwhelmed. "Somtow, I can't take this. This should be for your wife, not for me."

"Nong has her own sapphires, Katherine. And she has the honor and misfortune of being my legal wife. I want you to have something tangible, something precious, something to convince you that you are more to me than just a playmate and a diversion."

He was so sincere. Kate felt tears prick her eyes again. Without further comment she carefully fastened the chain around her neck. The stone sparkled in the hollow of her throat.

"Thank you, Somtow,"she said softly. "I am deeply touched."

Her prince watched her, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "You look lovely," he said. "Of course, you would look lovelier still if you removed your blouse."

"Somtow! You promised!"

"Promised what?" he said with mock innocence.

"That you would stick to the rules and would not try to seduce me!"

Somtow grinned. "I am sure that I never promised that!" He leaned forward across the table. "I would never make a promise that I could not keep. In any case, I have a feeling that you really want to take off your top."

It was true, of course. The attraction that Kate had felt toward him during lunch was a hundred times stronger now. She glanced over at the curtains. They were tightly closed. "The management would never enter a booth unannounced," said Somtow. "It would violate all the traditions."

Without a word, she pulled her silk shell over her head. Then she unhooked her brassiere in the front, and let it slide off her shoulders. She sat up straight, enjoying the hungry way that he eyed her bared breasts.

"Ah, Katherine," he sighed. "I see that I was right." He picked up his chopsticks, reached across the table, and deftly caught her left nipple between them. "Quite stiff," he commented approvingly. He applied a bit more pressure and the button of flesh swelled further. Her cunt muscles tensed and her clit tingled.

He switched to the other nipple, rolling it back and forth between the lacquered wood sticks. Kate gave a little moan, and thrust her chest forward.

"You are incorrigible, Somtow," she said when she had caught her breath. "In any case, I'll bet that you are quite stiff yourself."

"You would win that wager," he chuckled. He stood up and Kate saw that he had already unzipped his trousers and released his erection, that he had been stroking himself with his left hand even as he used the chopsticks with his right.

"You know," she said with a smile, "I am still a bit hungry after all." She grabbed one of the cushions from the bench and threw it on the floor in front of him. Then she knelt and began feasting on his smooth, cool flesh.

The slender Thai rested his hands on her shoulders and pressed his pelvis against her mouth. Kate worked his penis like a vacuum cleaner, sucking him as if to extract every drop of his come. She relished his slightly salty taste and the now-familiar whiff of sandalwood that came from him. He moaned, and she paused to admonish him. "Shh!"she whispered. "I don't want the management to come rushing in thinking that I'm doing you harm."

"I can't help myself, Katherine," Somtow gasped.

"Maybe I need to gag you," she said playfully, and then was a little shocked by her own words. Was her association with Gregory polluting her mind to such an extent?

She returned her attention to his cock, licking up and down its length before swallowing it again. The skin was petal-soft. She could feel the pulse of blood raging beneath.

As Somtow came closer to climax, Kate felt her own heart beginning to pound. Her clit throbbed in the same rhythm as his cock, and she could feel her lower lips swelling, opening, aching for attention. She was determined, though, not to allow him access to her sex. Technically, at least, she wanted to adhere to the rules she had established. She wanted the contest on Saturday to be fair and unbiased. She sucked harder, and lightly raked her teeth over his rigid flesh. Come on, Somtow, she thought. Come in my mouth, my sweet prince.

He hovered on the edge. Kate could feel his muscles tensing. But instead of letting go, he gently pushed against her shoulders, pulling out of her mouth. "Turn around, please, Katherine. I want to share my pleasure with you."

"No, Somtow. We all agreed, no sex until the showdown."

"Oh?" He raised one eyebrow. "And what do you call this that we have been doing for the last fifteen minutes?"

"In any case, the notion that you should have no sexual contact with any of us was your idea. In my opinion, it is unnecessary, and unrealistic. You cannot segregate your feelings and desires that way. This lunch is part of the contest, Katherine."




As you might expect, Katherine is not very successful in resisting the handsome and persuasive Somtow. Their activities in that curtained booth include some of the most transgressive scenes in the book. However, I won't spoil things by telling you anymore...

Honestly, despite the fact that my head felt about to explode from the pain, the scenes I wrote that weekend are undeniably hot. How did I do that?

I haven't the faintest idea. I guess that is part of the magic of writing.