“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.
Feb. 9 to Feb.15 Growing up in the 1980s, Pan Wen-li (潘文立) was repeatedly told in elementary school that his family could not have originated in Taipei. At the time, there was a lack of understanding of Pingpu (plains Indigenous) peoples, who had mostly assimilated to Han-Taiwanese society and had no official recognition. Students were required to list their ancestral homes then, and when Pan wrote “Taipei,” his teacher rejected it as impossible. His father, an elder of the Ketagalan-founded Independence Presbyterian Church in Xinbeitou (自立長老會新北投教會), insisted that their family had always lived in the area. But under postwar
The term “pirates” as used in Asia was a European term that, as scholar of Asian pirate history Robert J. Antony has observed, became globalized during the European colonial era. Indeed, European colonial administrators often contemptuously dismissed entire Asian peoples or polities as “pirates,” a term that in practice meant raiders not sanctioned by any European state. For example, an image of the American punitive action against the indigenous people in 1867 was styled in Harper’s Weekly as “Attack of United States Marines and Sailors on the pirates of the island of Formosa, East Indies.” The status of such raiders in
On paper, the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) enters this year’s nine-in-one elections with almost nowhere to go but up. Yet, there are fears in the pan-green camp that they may not do much better then they did in 2022. Though the DPP did somewhat better at the city and county councillor level in 2022, at the “big six” municipality mayoral and county commissioner level, it was a disaster for the party. Then-president and party chairwoman Tsai Ing-wen (蔡英文) made a string of serious strategic miscalculations that led to the party’s worst-ever result at the top executive level. That year, the party
As much as I’m a mountain person, I have to admit that the ocean has a singular power to clear my head. The rhythmic push and pull of the waves is profoundly restorative. I’ve found that fixing my gaze on the horizon quickly shifts my mental gearbox into neutral. I’m not alone in savoring this kind of natural therapy, of course. Several locations along Taiwan’s coast — Shalun Beach (沙崙海水浴場) near Tamsui and Cisingtan (七星潭) in Hualien are two of the most famous — regularly draw crowds of sightseers. If you want to contemplate the vastness of the ocean in true