“It’s simply natural to talk about things from your home,” a character says in Zuo Hsuan’s (左萱) debut full-length comic book, The Summer Temple Fair (神之鄉).
And that’s exactly what Zuo does through her story, which is set in her childhood home of Dasi (大溪) in Taoyuan and revolves around the yearly religious procession of Santaizi (三太子), a folk deity also known as the Third Prince, which is almost like a second New Year to locals. Top spinning, which is a popular activity for children and adults alike, is also a key element in the story.
It’s refreshing to read a comic that is set in Taiwan and draws upon its traditional culture, as most adults today grew up with Japanese or American productions. Works from those countries were an enjoyable staple of this reviewer’s youth, so it’s nice to read a comic that uses dialogue and graphics that Taiwanese can relate to.
At the same time, as someone who does not know much about Dasi or the Santaizi ceremony, the comic also serves as an invitation to learn more. Other comics do this too, but it’s good to know that the place of interest is only an hours drive away and can be visited anytime. The use of local elements, moreover, is a growing trend in Taiwan that will hopefully become the norm.
Zuo also grew up reading Japanese comics, and the influence is apparent. The artwork, especially the characters’ hairstyles and expressions, are pretty similar to those in Japanese comics. Zuo does have her own flair, though, incorporating a lean and uncluttered drawing style with tasteful layouts that often bleed out of the comic panels. It’s very balanced and nuanced artwork that is immensely detailed, but Zuo knows when to leave things blank. It’s fitting for this type of light-hearted, day-in-the-life story, and at no point is it hard to follow, except for a section in the second volume where the pages get mixed up — but that’s a publishing error.
The character types are also drawn from Japanese stereotypes — the protagonist, A-hsun (阿薰) fits the stoic, melancholy but good-looking “cool” type who is secretly admired by the main female character Nuan-nuan (暖暖), an ordinary girl who is somewhat of a daydreamer. There’s also A-hsun’s delinquent-looking and boisterous childhood best friend I-hsin (一心) and his precocious little cousin who somehow wants to marry him and sees Nuan-nuan as a romantic rival. Other minor characters suffer from this as well.
Zuo spent two years doing field research on the Santaizi ceremony and even had a chance to participate in the dancing, which is usually off-limits for women. Her experience and intent is reflected in the first chapter, as the story begins with Nuan-nuan leaving her college class that focuses on local Taiwanese culture. She reflects on her art professor criticizing her work as being not personal enough, encouraging her to spend the summer looking for a story that she can fully delve into. Ironically, the other students keep complaining how boring the class is, and Nuan-nuan only sticks with it because of A-hsun.
Zuo’s personal history is reflected through A-hsun at this point, as both spent their childhood in Dasi but later moved to Taipei, never to return until circumstances called for them to research their unfamiliar hometown. For Zuo, it was an opportunity to work on the comic; for A-hsun, it was a class assignment.
Reading through the comic, however, it is apparent that the cultural elements only set the scene for the story Zuo wants to tell. It’s probably a wise decision not to go overboard with these elements. Like the opening classroom scene indicates, not everyone is genuinely interested in learning about things like religious ceremonies, and there needs to be an engaging narrative as well. Zuo’s tale is nothing groundbreaking and feels a bit cliche at times due to the character settings, but it is heartwarming and handled delicately enough that you do want to keep turning the pages. The coming-of-age theme of returning home and the transformations it may bring will be relatable to most readers, and the captivating artwork makes up for the rest. Add Santaizi and top spinning material, and the result is an original work.
The book won a bronze at Japan’s International Manga Awards, and has been translated into Japanese with a French edition in the making. Zuo is promoting it at different comic fairs around the world, and hopefully there will be an English version soon.
It’s a decent effort by an author who is part of a wave of young Taiwanese creatives who are increasingly drawing from local culture but incorporating it in ways that are appealing to the masses and probably to foreigners as well. Zuo does not try to represent a homogenous Taiwanese culture, but instead a regional custom that is largely unknown to people from the rest of the country. Plus, it is her personal connection and story that makes the an interesting read.
Dasi is already somewhat on the tourism radar, but if it ever needed a boost, it should be promoting this book. At least this reviewer will be visiting soon.
May 6 to May 12 Those who follow the Chinese-language news may have noticed the usage of the term zhuge (豬哥, literally ‘pig brother,’ a male pig raised for breeding purposes) in reports concerning the ongoing #Metoo scandal in the entertainment industry. The term’s modern connotations can range from womanizer or lecher to sexual predator, but it once referred to an important rural trade. Until the 1970s, it was a common sight to see a breeder herding a single “zhuge” down a rustic path with a bamboo whip, often traveling large distances over rugged terrain to service local families. Not only
Ahead of incoming president William Lai’s (賴清德) inauguration on May 20 there appear to be signs that he is signaling to the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) and that the Chinese side is also signaling to the Taiwan side. This raises a lot of questions, including what is the CCP up to, who are they signaling to, what are they signaling, how with the various actors in Taiwan respond and where this could ultimately go. In the last column, published on May 2, we examined the curious case of Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) heavyweight Tseng Wen-tsan (鄭文燦) — currently vice premier
The last time Mrs Hsieh came to Cihu Park in Taoyuan was almost 50 years ago, on a school trip to the grave of Taiwan’s recently deceased dictator. Busloads of children were brought in to pay their respects to Chiang Kai-shek (蔣中正), known as Generalissimo, who had died at 87, after decades ruling Taiwan under brutal martial law. “There were a lot of buses, and there was a long queue,” Hsieh recalled. “It was a school rule. We had to bow, and then we went home.” Chiang’s body is still there, under guard in a mausoleum at the end of a path
Last week the Directorate-General of Budget, Accounting and Statistics (DGBAS) released a set of very strange numbers on Taiwan’s wealth distribution. Duly quoted in the Taipei Times, the report said that “The Gini coefficient for Taiwanese households… was 0.606 at the end of 2021, lower than Australia’s 0.611, the UK’s 0.620, Japan’s 0.678, France’s 0.676 and Germany’s 0.727, the agency said in a report.” The Gini coefficient is a measure of relative inequality, usually of wealth or income, though it can be used to evaluate other forms of inequality. However, for most nations it is a number from .25 to .50