Obsession by Society of Comparative Literature, A.A.H.K.U.S.U.

October 2015 Newsletter II

着迷

Society of Comparative Literature, A.A.H.K.U.S.U., Session 2014-2015

Once an idea has taken hold of the brain itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s almost impossible to eradicate. - Christopher Nolan Inception

Acknowledgments Contributors of Creative Works Photo Resources: http://www.alexgross.com/paintings/index3.html http://www.hdwallpaper.mobi http://wallfon.com https://wallpaperscraft.com

Content Page 01 Acknowledgments; Content Page

12 Retrospect of Activities

02 Introduction of Society of Comparative Literature; Message from the Editor 03 Messages from the Executive Committee, Session 2014-2015

20 Exploring â&#x20AC;&#x153;Obsessionâ&#x20AC;? through Film and Literature 28 Creative Works 47 Mini Libary Book List 49 Welfare List

Introduction of

Society of Comparative Literature Since its establishment, the Society has been committed to holding educational and recreational activities for students and staff in the University of Hong Kong. It has also devoted itself to raising awareness of issues in its related disciplines, such as cultual studies and textual analysis. The Society primarily serves to promote Comparative Literature as an intellectually engaging and rewarding subject with interdisciplinary perspectives. Most ardently, we hope that you enjoy the activities in months to come, and be left with memorable moments and valuable insights.

Message from the Editor Ardent affections resulted in erroneous decisions is a recurring occurrence in life. Choosing the theme â&#x20AC;&#x153;Obsessionâ&#x20AC;?, I would hereby like to invite my readers to introspect oneself. Deep inside our hearts, there must be something that we are obsessed of. It can be love, wealth, pleasure, knowledge, you name it. For that, many of us are willing to deeply dedicate ourselves, making important decisions of our life. Operated as an article of faith, our obsessions can lead to powerful behaviours that no one should underestimate. They empower us with perseverance and determination to strive for our dreams. Sometimes, they even make the impossible possible.However, we often fail to understand our obsession, resulting in irrational behaviours and regretful decisions. Obsessed with a wrong object or in an inappropriate manner can lead to disastrous outcomes. The line between miracle and madness may not be as clear as it seems. I hope this newsletter can be helpful in inspiring my readers to understand more about obsession and make better choices for our lives.

Kaden Ng 02

Messages from the Executive Committee, Session 2014-2015 03

又是人，晚上在明，不從十月何冒出，往年 Mock Cam AGM ，來得得，回來，已是冬天。

人所

之

。

冬天很

，很。，四周五光十人不暇。在上寒刺，但我卻，一是值得。放不了人，做不了。或

冬天另一是，下人一互提寒之，存在得了。冬天是是暖。

寒

在彼所

暖。

，正叧一個度來之，我想了很多年冬天。想了個我們仨傾Year Plan傾 Starbucks打佯晩上，想了個我和在McDonald’s 傾Inaug ，想了個我們在Knowles 日出早上。一是，又是。已再沒下一個再回來，年冬天已去，在又一個年往上厚厚披上是放下。或是

我往懷，年冬天會我

Janice

。。，

和暖。

n o s r e p r i a h C

Cheung

【寫於深夜五時的random落莊文】我會說，這下半莊期，才算是1415 Soc Complit的精彩故事－我們曾經鬧了好多實實在在的交；曾經抱在一起痛哭過；曾經感覺真心換了絕情；曾經以為關係從此修補不了。情節誇張，或許更荒謬得像齣戲，但卻都真有其事。然而，這一切一切的難過，應該也都是因為曾經著緊，曾經真心對待，才會有感覺吧。可幸的是，經歷了最低點，換來的是更想努力貼近和珍惜彼此的關係。「既近且遠，既遠且近」，人與人之間的bonding就是如此的微妙。而，不經不覺間，走過了高山低谷後，我們終於快要抵達終站。臨近落莊的這些日子，不捨的感覺總會毫無預感地，在奇怪的時候湧上心頭。我想，那些我們八人一起大笑、忍笑、互相取笑、開會、proofreading、通頂、搏盡、認真chur、訓覺、偷拍、北上、流汗、唱歌、跳舞、搬搬抬抬、打雜、執手尾、把酒談心、用心對待過的時刻，我一定會好好記住。無論如何，感激有你們陪我過了這滿滿的一年。但誰說這就是結束？落莊後，又會是個新開始：)

Internal Vice Chairperson & General Secretary

Angela Lai

P.S. 同場加映1415 Soc Complit 的hashtag： #張黎許李吳梁 #其實應該係張黎許李吳吳吳梁 #7champ #認真 #癲 #好人 #賤嘴 #酒 #trueordare #agmegm #唇間 #水貨客 #新旺角 #滯銷招財貓 #同埋叉燒包 #水晶球 #好賣得 #我愛動物 #老闆同我揮手 #比較文仔 #文叔 #finbud #喊 #顧影自憐 #sosad #R #lovehoroscope #娘娘 #皇后 #離地 #乳豬 #蘋果 #冰 #跌晒啲銀 #我個銀包呢 #ohshxt #收皮啦你 #de喱 #homesweethome #煩夠未 #鏘哥 #k仔 #kanaja123 #唱k好掂 #eng吉得dy #記住剪頭髮 #grandmaAsec #violenceasbeauty #傻 #入camp加油 #BEverly #bigbigXbeverly #beverlyXsoccomplit #bigbigXwelfaresecXwelfareweek #nonlocal #複雜 #泰國嚟既 #真pure真true #stalker #facebook人生 #可愛 #訓覺嗰陣 #Ocampissoexciting #黃牛飛 #永久blacklist #大汗淋漓 #LL的水泡 #水桶 #沙灘波 #波子棋 #donationfrommrng #大煲煲 #lostnfound #馬騮 #真漢子 #職工盟 #大食 #bello #我係小黑咪 #主席係最正最靚女最champ的 #我愛你們

－致我親愛的莊友 ♥

我不寡言，但我不懂怎樣表達自己。我就如卡夫卡《城堡》中的堡壘，旁人想進入，卻迷失在複雜的迷宮裏。城堡近在眼前，卻又遙遠得無法觸碰。莊友總說很難明白我。的確，我不是一個簡單直接的人。許多事情一直放在心中，不說出口。心中的牆過了大半莊期才慢慢拆下。大概是經歷了Bazaar每天六時半起床，每天由Soc房搬貨到Centen，再每天七時多收 booth，才明白一支莊團結一致的可貴。也許是在Reg Day時，看到各位莊友在自己負責在崗位上盡力(例如Joyce在中央宣傳區大叫口號，Scarlett全心全意向Freshmen宣傳學科，主席落力吸引freshmen入房)，才知道不論你壓力有多大，總有這七個人在你身旁。很多時候，我不懂怎樣告訴你們，「其實我很感動」。儘管相見的時間已愈來愈少，我依然希望跟你們每位說：主席：「謝謝你！你是我在港大最欣賞的人！這一年來，謝謝你的堅持，體諒，默默的關心。最後我只想說聲對不起，我欠你的。」 Angela：「你是一位能看穿所有事情的大姐姐。O Camp沒有你，我真不知怎麼辦。」 Edmond：「很高興今年和你一同成長，更高興你成熟了。」 Scarlett：「我欣賞你的責任心，在Comp Lit Fest自問是個不太稱職的小PIC，感謝你的包容。」 Kaden：「You are like a brother to me. I am grateful to go through ups and downs with you. Our views might not be the same all the time, (Okay I get it Fitzgerald is cool but Hemingway is the real literary hero haha) but i am really really lucky to have a friend who debates on literature, philosophy and life with me. 」 Joyce：「開心果，和你一起，總是最relaxing。麻煩的東西仍在，但在我們一起的時光，它們變得不再重要。」 Big Big：「每次看到桌上的refreshments，都會想到一年前害羞的小女孩和今天滿有自信的Welfare Secretary。」這一年，chur着chur着，轉眼就過。還是要回頭一看，方才驚覺自己變了，大家變了，所有事情都不一樣了。

rperson i a h C e c i V External 06

Amanda Hui

續－比較文學－小伙子長大了成為了不懂哭也不想笑的一個漢子－感到過無力軟弱困難重重觸動心靈的是我們之間的懸腸掛肚以及彼此的諒解浮浮沉沉起起跌跌在沈澱一年的點點滴滴那故事那收穫那感動日計不足歲計有餘桑海也許會變成滄田情誼卻仍然未變－不捨也許還有明明還有

l ry a i c n a Fin Secreta

Edmond Li

上莊好像有很多「二元對立」「個人」VS 「團體」「空閒」VS「Chur」「自由」VS「束縛」「喜歡」VS「討厭」「期望」VS 「失望」「電影／功課／Part-time」VS 「莊務」但以上各種真的是對立形式，一定有「黑」、「白」之分嗎？它們會有灰色地帶嗎？而那個灰色地帶的「正」、「負」比例又是如何？還記得上莊時「8卦」過很久以前上X莊的下莊文，有幾個都曾說過「上莊不是簡單、完美、輕鬆的事，有時候你會很恨你的莊友，有時你又會和他們很友好。」── 這全是對的，「有時」，那個是一個時候，一個特定的時間。莊務是全年的，所以要整體來看。上莊對每個人的「得」與「失」都有不同。我慶幸上莊令我更了解自己是一個怎樣的人，想要什麼，不想要什麼。下莊後要好好定立接下來一年半在校仍可做什麼，做一個我想做的自己。上莊文時，我以村上春樹《挪威的森林》的「沒有人喜歡孤獨，只是害怕失望而已」作結尾。至今，我仍是同意這句話。現在讓我說多一點：我一直覺得憂愁是好的孤獨也是好的它們讓我慢慢成長變成一個與眾不同的渾蛋 ──＜渾蛋＞，陸穎魚《晚安晚安》

Scarlett Ng

Academic Secretary & Student Representative 08

一年光陰，如白駒過隙。握不住的沙、抓不住的風，在縫隙裏流逝，留下的就將只有腦海裏的憶記。心不禁在告別前蕩鞦千，淚又在深思過後再湧現。這年來誰伴我走過荊棘滿途可悲可泣艱辛的路？誰與我共對跌宕起伏顛簸碰阻無數考驗？誰教我不再獨自沉溺於困擾磨折的無底深淵？就從起初到現在，與你們經歷了歲月的洗滌，當中沉寂了多少句話，欲言又止，漸被淡忘？埋沒了多少感性，藏在心裏，沒穫明瞭？多少的喜與悲、多少的樂與怒、多少的理解、多少的埋怨、多少的愛。

Kaden Ng

n o i t a c PubliSecretary 09

看着遠方的流星，心中曾幻想自己能到達那遙遠的國度。然而走了又走，試了又試，卻總在追逐着一個倒影，每每看似伸手可及，但卻瞬間消失無影。面對前路，常常感到惆悵消極，幸好在你們的鼓勵下，才能重懷希望，堅持至此。常常為了遠方一閃即逝的流星，而錯過眼前閃耀奪目的星星，值得嗎？時間過得很快，還有不久，已到達大家的分岔路。你問我：「會懷念這段時光，想回到過去嗎？」我笑而不答，說真的，我沒有，但也能保證自己沒有後悔當時的決定。看着眼前滿天繁星，我只希望它們能在將來，繼續照亮我們各自各的天空。

Social Secretary

Joyce Ng

平上是仰可惜是水在

平，不泛，明月，水，便到，不到。山，招手，在中水，是依，是定旅，，水只注定是兒吧。伴一上沙，於推到，吞之，想明月度，悔揮別月。兒上布不斷，掀，了成了沒所，傾出水水，在水上日把它，來場。泛

平

，不泛

。

Beverly Leung

？

曾一 ﹑曾惜一 ﹑ 曾在乎一 ﹑曾一，不會 ﹑不會乾 ﹑不會忘掉，於中。

Welfare Secretary 11

Retrospect of Activities

/8 30 a e g /8 n T erin 3 2 h 21 tatio Gat en 4/8 Ori amp 1 C 13 quiry r n e t E un es i r Co e

l /9 25 choo S arty ld 9 O / yP 8 a 1 d 14 lfare Fir We eek W

n tio

n rie

/3 30 ing y en Op emon r Ce

1 20

/4 -22 on 3 / 31 ibiti h Ex

/4 22 el an /4 14 i c P alk T s M u rum 8/4 s Fo & w 1/4 Sho m Fil

ti ara

e Lit

m Co

e tur

va i t s

E V I T A R COMPA LITERATURE Violence FESTIVAL As Beauty Comparative Literature Festival is the major annual academic event of our society. This year, with the theme “Violence as Beauty”, we aspired to explore how violence is represented in different forms of texts stylistically and aesthetically. We also aimed at reflecting upon the moral use of aesthetics of violence. The Festival attracted people from all walks of life, including students and staff from different disciplines and also individuals outside the University. In this one-month time, we went through the “crimson journey” with our participants from a wide range of perspectives, including philosophy, films, music and paintings. We hoped that our partipants are inspired to see violence and aesthestics afresh.

Opening Ceremony The Opening Ceremony marks the official commencement for the Comparative Literature Festival. This year, we are honored to have Dr. Magnan-Park and Mr. Jasper Van Holsteijn from the Department to be our guest speakers. Dr. Magnan-Park shared his understanding of martial arts with us while Mr. Van Holsteijn offered different interpretations for our theme. Their expertise and experiences in the subject fostered a deeper understanding of the theme for participants. We used rose petals in the commencement ceremony to mimick a scene from a film directed by Quentin Tarantino who is famous for his techniques in presenting aesthetics of violence to the audience. Towards the end of the Ceremony, guests and participants gathered around the exhibition boards and had a lively discussion on the theme while enjoying the refreshments.

Exhibition VIOLENCE OR BEAUTY? Entitled “Violence or Beauty?”, this year’s exhibition explored how violence can be represented aesthetically, questioning the use of it as a form of art. The exhibition linked our series of sub-activities by introducing the concept of aesthetics of violence and extended the theme to its moral reflection.The boards also displayed the debate between scholars to provoke viewers to think further about aesthetic violence in various perspectives. The exhibition was displayed in different corners of the campus, successfully capturing the attention of tourists, staff and students of different faculties. We also set up a counter next to the exhibition area so as to exchange our ideas and share our inspiration with the viewers. We are glad that the exhibition sparked discussion between viewers and our Executive Committee.

Film SHOWS When Bullets Meet Samurai Sword This year’s Film Show introduced to the audiences two iconic films that features elements of aesthetics of violence. They are A Better Tomorrow 1 and Kill Bill Vol. 1. A local masterpiece by John Woo, A Better Tomorrow 1 is a profound, moving tale of brotherhood. It centers the life of Ho, a former gangster trying to make amends with his brother Kit, a policeman. Kill Bill Vol. 1 is one of the many great films by Quentin Tarantino. The 2003 martial arts film takes viewers to a journey of revenge along with a nameless woman who lost her child after being severely injured by her ex-boyfriend and leader of Deadly Viper Assassination Squad. We are overjoyed that both screenings attracted students from different academic backgrounds. A short, yet engaging discussion session came shortly after the film screenings. This year, we have invited Mr. Sean Yim, who is a film critic and director to be our moderator. Participants enjoyed sharing thoughts and were inspired by the discussion sessions.

Music forum You Know What The ____ I’m Singing – Aesthetics of Violence of Hong Kong Music We are much honored to have Prof. Stephen Chu, the Programme Director of Hong Kong Studies at HKU and MC Yan, the vocal of the renowned local Hip Hop band, LMF as our guest speakers. Our guests inspired the audience with their unique perspectives on how violent elements like foul language mixed with beautiful elements like rhyming and melodies in LMF’s and MC Yan’s works. Great works such as 《揸緊中指》and《惡世紀》were played and discussed as well. Our guests also shared with us their experiences of music compositions, performances and lyrics studies, and the difficulties faced by Hong Kong music industry nowadays. To our surprise, MC Yan showed his new album to all. The interaction between guests, audience and host added color to the event. The questions and views actively raised by our audience could always facilitate the discussion to a deeper level. We were very delighted that the event attracted not only HKU students, but also band-lovers and fans of our guests.

Panel Talk CARCASS ON A CANVAS This year, we are glad to have Miss Vivian Ho, a young emerging Hong Kong-based artist, as the guest speaker and Dr. Winnie Yee, Assistant Professor of Department of Comparative Literature, as the moderator for our talk. Vivian is a post-90s painter who constantly shows her concern and reflection about the city through ordinary objects, people or events. Her growing body of work has shown a particular appetite for magnifying everyday objects – most notably in her oil paintings of dead fish from wet markets – and injecting them with vivid surreal impressions and black humor. Vivian shared the inspirations of her renowned series of artworks, including “of delicacy and horror” and “From Fresh to Death”, and her unique ideas on “aesthetics of violence” with the audience. In her opinion, violence happens every day. For example, slaughtering and butchering occur daily in every of our meals. Yet, they are so trivial that we have already been used to these kinds of everyday life actions and thus we feel apathetic to them. Therefore, through capturing and aestheticizing the brutal moments in her works, she hope to evoke audience’s powerful emotional responses and remind people to reflect on this routinized violence.

Orientation Series The Orientation Series was successfully held during August. Every year, we wish to integrate freshmen into the exciting university life by setting up the Enquiry Counter and organizing the Orientation Camp and Tea Gathering. This year is of no exception. With the theme “Unmasked”, we paid special attention to promote the ideas of looking beyond the surface and close reading to freshmen. While the Enquiry Counter mainly focused on answering freshmen’s inquiries regarding academic matters, Orientation Camp and Tea Gathering focused more on creating a relaxed atmosphere for freshmen to socialize.

Enquiry Counter

An Enquiry Counter was set up during Registration Day to introduce the subject to students newly admitted to the University. We aimed at giving freshmen a brief idea of what Comparative Literature is about while promoting the upcoming programmes. The theme for this year was “Ignition”. Our counter, located at LG.41, was filled with inspirational film posters, encouraging quotation, as well as a fire torch that symbolized the burning passion hidden deep inside each and every freshman’s heart. The Executive Commitee and a group of enthusiastic helpers succinctly introduced Comparative Literature to freshmen, helping them to understand more about the subject and clear their doubts. New members left the room not only with a smile on their faces, but also with our beautifully designed folders and memo pads. For those who signed up for both Orientation Camp and Tea Gathering could also take part in the lucky draw. The fortunate ones even went home carrying our lovely hoodies and t-shirts! Lastly, we would like to express our sincere gratitude to those who helped the Society to make the Enquiry Counter a tremendous success. We hoped that freshmen could find their goals in the University after visiting our counter.

Orientation Camp We took freshmen on a three-day journey to the mysterious, enchanting Underworld… From 21st to 23rd August, our Orientation Camp bearing the name “The Underworld” was organized in HKU Kadoorie Centre. In this three-day-twonight camp, we attempted to help freshmen make new friends and integrate into the big Comparative Literature family through an array of thrilling games. The first day was full of joy and sweat. The voyage began with the breath-taking Campus Orientation and Hong Kong Orientation. Competing for the highest score, freshmen were all rushing to different corners at HKU and Hong Kong to finish the challenging tasks. At night, they were greeted by the representatives from the Underworld and were invited to join the annual Campfire, when they danced to new tunes such as “The Fox” and “One Thing”. The fun day ended with some serious chats about university life among each group. After such a long day packed with activities, freshmen needed some stimulation to wake them up. In the hair-raising Water Fight, freshmen had so much fun splashing water, throwing water bombs at each other and racing around the parking lot to escape from water buckets. Following the Water Fight came some intellectually challenging games to test freshmen’s intelligence. They were asked to find hidden clues and complete a set of questions in the Theme Game, which highlighted our theme “Unmasked”. The second day ended with the Detective Game. The plot was constructed based on a number of cultural theories. Freshmen were all amazed by the carefully planned plot and the fine acting by our actors. The camp concluded with a session for freshmen to write down their views of their groupmates on a piece of paper. Freshmen shared some of their deepest thoughts during this heart-warming “turtle back” session.

Tea Gathering

Freshmen embarked on a “Secret Mission” to look for their vanished loved ones… The Tea Gathering, having the name “Secret Mission”, was held on 30th August. The afternoon commenced with some Mass Games to warm freshmen up. Freshmen had so much fun during “Star War”, in which they used newspapers to build weapons or helmets and battled with each other. Shortly afterwards, they were asked to find their missing group leaders, who were hiding in different spots in the campus. Being anxious to know their beloved group leaders’ whereabouts, freshmen rushed to different checkpoints to finish the assigned tasks as quickly as possible. Joining their recaptured group leaders, they sat down with tutors and a lecturer from the Department to have light refreshments. Freshmen listened attentively as tutors and lecturers explained the essence of Comparative Literature and asked various thought-provoking questions regarding the University, the Faculty as well as the programme. All of us learnt a great deal from such intriguing discussion. We would like to thank the Department for offering incredible support to the Tea Gathering.

Welfare Week

At the start of semester, we presented our Welfare Week. From 14th September to 18th September, a booth, which was like a little vintage market, was held outside Delifrance. Here we had the red-brick backdrop, the cute teddy bear and the vintage products like suitcases, tea sets, scratch maps, earrings and hanging signs from Eden Hong Kong. Many Society members visited us and took away the rich dark brown welfare packs with a variety of products and coupons, including cultural magazines and film-related publications HKinema , hair conditioners, lipsticks, food and drinks, files, mobile cables, and so on. sponsored by the Hong Kong Film Critics Society was indeed a great book for Comparative Literature students as well. What’s more, with our lucky draw, society products, books from our mini library and crispy popcorn cups, our dearest members had great fun during the Welfare Week.

Old School Friday Party We held the Old School Friday Party with the theme “Old Hong Kong” on 25th September. Through this activity, we got the chance to show our participants how Hong Kong in the 70s and the 80s was like. We prepared traditional snacks including maltose cakes, banana cakes, gem cakes, etc. The venue was decorated into a Hong Kong ice cafe and classic song from singers such as Teresa Tang, Jacky Cheung and Leslie Cheung were played. Everyone spent a joyful night with us playing games and chitchatting during dinner. This was followed by a dancing session which started with the Executive Committee’s performance. Participants then followed us to do some old time dance moves under the colourful flash lights. Near the end of the activity, we were glad to have a band from the City University of Hong Kong to perform for us. This gave us the opportunity to reminisce the songs from the past!

We hope that all our members

have enjoyed the activities of our session. 19

Exploring “Obsession” through Film and Literature Written by Kaden Ng Everyone is obsessed with something. But then, what does the word “obsession” actually mean? If we take a look at Oxford English Dictionaries, we will see that it is defined as “an idea or thought that continually preoccupies or intrudes on a person’s mind”. But when we are in a state of obsession, we are experiencing something far more than simply having an idea that resides in our mind. The elusive force of obsession incites a powerful craving within each of us. It can be a longing for romance, a yearning for wealth, a guilt-ridden wish for redemption, or a ravenous desire for vengeance, you name it. For that, many of us are willing to make irrevocable decisions and forgo manifold possibilities of life. In other words, obsessions lead to actions, and they can completely change our life. Hence, it is important to understand our obsessions if we want to live an authentic life and make autonomous decisions. In this issue, we will take a look at two different texts that offer us provocative reflections on obsession.

tion n Inceptoper Nola aprio,

hris rdo DiC a tor: C Direc ing: Leon atanabe, vitt, r W -Le Star Ken Gordon d r h Josep n Cotilla 10 o 0 Mari uly 8, 2 J date: e s a Rele

The Gr ea Autho t Gatsby r: Publis F. Scott Fitz he ge First P r: Scribner ( rald ublish 2004) ed: Ap ril 192 5

“What is the most resilient parasite? Bacteria? A virus? An intestinal worm? An idea. Resilient... highly contagious. Once an idea has taken hold of the brain it’s almost impossible to eradicate. An idea that is fully formed - fully understood - that sticks; right in there somewhere.” Inception is a movie about thought manipulation and how it leads to obsessive behaviours. In the film, the Director Christopher Nolan invites the audiences to imagine a world in which one can sneak into others’ dreams to implant an idea into their subconscious. The protagonist, Cobb is an extractor who steals secret information by intruding into others’ dreams. Cobb is given a special mission by Saito, a business magnate, to incept an idea into the mind of an heir of a business empire, manipulating him to dissolving his father’s company. As the story goes on, it reveals that this is not Cobb’s first attempt to implant an idea. He was once trapped in a dream with his wife Mal. In vain have they tried different ways to return to reality. As time goes by, Mal begins to get used to the dream and starts feeling content with the illusions that she dwells in, while Cobb still persists to find a way back. Mal’s complacency and Cobb’s futile attempt in persuading Mal to confront the reality impel Cobb to use the last resort - to invade Mal’s subconscious and implant a simple idea. It is, as Cobb says, “a truth that she had once known, but had chosen to forget… that her world was not real.”And this has forever changed everything. Although they successfully return to the real world eventually, the idea that the reality is not real still lingers in Mal’s mind, and it begins to grow like a cancer. And she commits suicide.

Though we will certainly be appalled if such sci-fi plot were to be actualized in reality, it is not remote to us at all. In fact, Inception resembles the way in which mass media operates. The partnership between Cobb and Saito has subtle similarities with that of marketers and big corporations. While the former partnership entices someone to make a decision that he will not otherwise make, the latter pair joins hand together to convince people to purchase excessive materials that they do not need. When you switch on the television or browse the Internet, you will see myriads of commercials about consumer goods. They seem ubiquitous. In spite of the prevalence of commercial advertising, many of us may believe that we always have the power to make rational decisions. But do we? As Cobb points out, inception is a subtle art. It is impossible to plant a complex idea. If an advertisement simply tells us a bunch of information directly, we will be consciously alerted with it, and hence rendering it difficult to affect our subconscious. Instead, Cobb suggests, â&#x20AC;&#x153;you need the simplest version of the idea - the one that will grow naturally in the subjectâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s mind.â&#x20AC;? A sophisticated advertisement can achieve the same purpose by associating a product with a potency that can make our life better. The marketers can thus forge alluring gold-plate surfaces for their products and magnify marginal differences, prompting irrational consuming behaviours. In a more macro dimension, the capitalistic system as a whole makes us define ourselves by the materials we possess. Consumer goods become the embodiment of success. Materialism enjoys a monopolizing triumph. The maniacal obsession of materialism in a thriving metropolitan has been splendidly illustrated by F. Scott Fitzgerald in his magnum opus - The Great Gatsby. The story is set in two extremely affluent areas in New York - New York City and Long Island. They are frantically obsessed with material enjoyment, indulging in their lavishing hedonistic lifestyle. However, their happiness is built upon the misery of others. Just between the two shores of Long Island, there is a place call the Valley of Ashes, in which there lived an extremely poor population, working abjectly everyday to maintain the prosperity of New York. They represent hopelessness and impossibility to alter their fate.

Borne in a poor family, the protagonist Jay Gatsby represents the American Dream - the idea that everyone has the opportunity to live a prosperous life. Americans from all walks of life have the chance to pursue their own conception of happiness. Despite all his effort of taking control of his life, the following paragraphs with show that Gatsby is just another instance of the illusion of making autonomous decision. He is just a slave of his shame and grief, trapped in an imaginary past and unable to move forward. The book explores obsession in multiple levels. On the appearance, the novel seems merely be about the obsession of love, about an ambitious young man who strives arduously to re-embrace his old lover and build a bright future for them. Gatsby used to be a penniless young man. But he always has a grand vision for himself, seizing every opportunity to forge a glorious path. During his military training, he meets Daisy. She is the girl who is desired by all men, Gatsby is the fortunate guy who wins her heart. Unfortunately, their romance is brief since Gatsby is soon sent to battlefield. He is well aware of the fact that Daisy is everything that he is not. She has wealth, fame, and status. She is simply the living embodiment of American Dream. In light of this, Gatsby decides not to return to Daisy upon the end of the war, and to make something of himself first. He has made a staggering amount of wealth, but Daisy is already married a billionaire called Tom. Nevertheless, this does not deter his five years of unwavering devotion. Daisy is deeply moved by Gatsbyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s romance and sincerity when they meet again. And they soon fall in love. But deep inside his heart, what Gatsby is truly in love with is only the idea of loving Daisy, the idea that holding her tightly in his arms can fulfil his American Dream. It seems that the ideal of American Dream is truly his object of obsession. Being deeply discontented with his birth, he believes that by dint of perseverance and determination, he can transcend the class boundaries and enjoy wealth and happiness. Shamefulness is a sentiment that recurs in Gatsbyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s mind. He perceives that there is something about his past self that was wrong. In the later part of the novel, it has been revealed that Gatsbyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s real name is James Gatz. His changing of his name into Jay Gatsby is a symbolic act to live up a new identity. The name - Jay Gatsby is more than a linguistic sign that denotes himself. It is a representation of his conception of a new self - a God like figure who can take absolute control of his life, liberty and happiness. Nevertheless, he, being the son of a poor farmer, is a fact that no one can alter.

Hence, his shamefulness becomes his prime motivation to venture relentlessly. For his dream, he is willing to use all necessary means to acquire fortune, including engaging in illegal business such as bootlegging. His lavish displays of wealth and his making up of all sort of lies about his past are just ways to conceal his deep sense of inferiority and insecurity. All the things he did are just to fulfil his longing of being a member of the upper class. Soon, he accumulates his wealth and reputation. But his memories of Daisy never stop lingering in the bottom of his heart. Though Gatsby barely understands her, her mesmerizing beauty, upperclass background and desirability makes her the symbol of ultimate happiness that weights even beyond wealth and reputation. A strong sentimental attachment to Daisy is firmly ingrained in Gatsby’s heart. The grief of losing Daisy is another reason that prompts Gatsby into engaging in his obsessive behaviour. Even though she is married, Gatsby is unable to move on, longing to recapture the lost time. Overwhelmed by a sense of nostalgia, he repeatedly mentions that he wants to repeat the past. Although it is incredible to see how a man can cling to a brief romance with such an arduous faith and devotion, irrational and fanatical obsession seems a better description of his behaviour. Immensely obsessed with his grand vision of the future, Gatsby possesses a somewhat delusional picture of reality. This can be reflected by his inability to understand why Daisy does not leave Tom immediately and return to him right after she learns that he is now equally wealthy. He also has an unrealistic expectation of Daisy, believing that she has no affection towards his husband at all, and he is the only person that Daisy ever loved. In Gatsby’s idealisation of Daisy, she is nothing but a pure and innocent girl. He is completely blinded to her flaw as well as the flaw of their relationship. As the story goes on, Daisy’s true nature has been revealed by a tragic car accident in which she crashes someone to death. Cold-hearted, she lets Gatsby bear the crime for her and flea with Tom immediately. This shows that she is a selfish person and she does not place romance as high as Gatsby believes she would. What truly matters to her after all is material comfort and a luxurious life. And readers should not be surprised because she has already made a choice to marry Tom and stop waiting for Gatsby five years ago. After knowing that Gatsby acquires his wealth illegitimately, her affection for Gatsby is hugely shaken. This is probably becuase she knows Gatsby cannot provide the security and comfort that Tom can bring.

Meanwhile, Gatsby is still naively waiting for Daisyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s phone call. What he does not know is that the victimâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s husband is approaching him with murderous rage. The head of the bullet in its fury crosses through Gatsby body. The vengeance is done, but it is the scapegoat who bears. Gatsbyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s obsession with Daisy eventually costs his life. Gatsby is detached from the reality because his mind resides in an idealized past. He constantly wants to actualize his joyful memories with Daisy into the present but in vain. He fails to return to the past yet unable to move on. This is the tragedy of Gatsby. He is immobilized by his obsession. He is a victim of a fundamental flaw of human cognition. Human mind is prone to conflate idealistic memory with actual past. In the case of Gatsby, his irony is that he strives so hard for something that does not actually exist.

The fall of Gatsby also marks the disillusionment of the American Dream. To Gatsby, marrying Daisy, a girl from the upper class who is desired by all men, has become the symbol of success ever since their first encounter. Gatsby superficially idealizes Daisy, clinging to this alluring siren who possesses the irresistible charm that blinds men from unveiling her true self. His obsession to this selfish, materialistic, cold-hearted and yet enchanting creature is not based on love and understanding, but a false idealization. One can draw a parallel between Daisy and capitalism, which gives rise to extreme egoism, materialism, and dehumanization. While Gatsby blindly devotes unconditionally to Daisy, many of the modern metropolitans remain uncritical to ideology that incites them into making many important decisions of their lives. Materialism sends an invitation to all of us, enticing us to follow the norms without questions and strive merely for a comfortable and hedonistic lifestyle. It invites us to believe that life is all about materialistic pursuit.

But of course, this does not reflect the true nature of reality. Little of us are aware of the fact that human slavery is still prevalent today. We enjoy a comfortable life at the cost of the misery of millions of people. There is still a tremendous amount of people is living under extreme poverty. At times, people make donations to the poor, but without any attempt to understand how the money will be spent, and without any reasonable expectations that it can make a true impact. Many of us have never even heard of diseases like malaria and schistosomiasis that drag millions of young souls to abyss. We keep calm and enjoy our Starbucks coffee at our little “heaven”. We are drenched in our obsession with different material goods. We live in a fantasy that we create, an illusion that does not truly represent reality.

Want to explore more? Here is our film recommendations: Bateman Begins

Director: Christoper Nolan Starring: Christian Bale, Michael Caine, Liam Neeson Release date: June 10, 2005

In this cinematic masterpiece, Christopher Nolan presents the journey of Bruce Wayne’s transformation into Batman, exploring the internal struggles of this superhero with his complementing yet conflicting desires for vengeance and justice, and how it leads to his obsession with bringing law and order to Gotham.

Stood in a stark contrast with the mainstream superhero films, Nolan presents to the audience a secular hero who is full of weakness. A traditional superhero story usually comes with religious undertones. The hero is born with superpower and the absolute ability to discern right and wrong. The hero is the incarnation of justice. Bruceâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s path to justice, however, arises from his personal trauma. When he was a child, he saw his parents being murdered in front of him. He blames himself for the death of his parents, and his life is shadowed by guilt and his desire for avenging his parents. However, he eventually transforms discontent into his driving force to bring justice to the city. As Aldous Huxley once said, â&#x20AC;&#x153;Experience is not what happened to you, but what you do with what happened to you.â&#x20AC;? This movie vividly illustrates how pain and misfortune can transform into an enormous will power, and how his guilt-ridden longing of redemption and raging desire to revenge have been sublimed into his moral persistence to uphold justice.

Requiem For A Dream

Director: Darren Aronofsky Starring: Ellen Burstyn, Jared Leto, Jennifer Connelly Release date: May 14, 2000

Requiem for a Dream is a psychological thriller that draws parallel between psychotropic drugs and media, exploring the relationship between addiction and obsession. The movie starts by revealing how the main characters in the film are trapped in their addictions of drugs and television. While Sara is constantly watching television show, his son Harry is a drug addict. But this is not an ordinary movie about addiction. As the movie goes on, the impact of their addictions penetrates deep within their psyche. They begin to indulge in dreams. While Sara wants to regain her youth, Harry tries to start his own drug trading business. However, reality shatters their fantasy. They both fail abjectly, leading to nightmarish consequences. The core theme of the movie is about the human tendency to fantasize reality and the extreme to which people strive for their illusions. Through the use of different dramatic effects, the film shows how obsession can blur the line between illusion and reality.

N O I S S E

ç?&#x20AC;čżˇ

Creative Works Obsession is something we all have experience of. However, the object of obsession varies from person to person. And the manner in which we pursue them can also be dramatically different. In light of this, we have invited our readers to share their personal thought with us through creative writings. In this issue, we have included eight pieces of submissions, hoping that they can inspire you to have a deeper understanding of our theme and reflect on your own obsession.

The Soundtrack of Commercialisation

TAKING BOYFRIEND APPLICATIONS, the poster declared, its letters purple silk against a backdrop of churned spring snow. The words were printed in a font neither block nor cursive, displaying immediacy and elegance in the straight, upright lines that arched up high and tilted, just at the end, into little serifs side by side, millimeter gaps in between that to read the mind had to leap. Attached to the poster was a wall, and attached to the wall was a grille: stainless steel clean only in the front, pulled over the long-shut eyes of the store behind. The poster was single on the virgin wall. It might have appeared, for that, larger than the wall itself— its margins measured in metres turned minus—drawing the rare or nonexistent passerby close, closer, in beyond the Tyrian drapes and the slanted walls they hide, until he stands before the words and sees himself in them. Boyfriend! His name is Ames and this is his room: in the smoke from his cigarette and the mirrors in the text this is all we see of him— but soon even this no more. Now someone was walking up the untrafficked street, bearing no trade but for the one in his mind. Go out? With you? I would be better off dating a beggar from the street… He walked haltingly, limp step limp stop, and his breathing palpitated and shook with him. He had been like this since the morning, taking turns and alleyways in indiscriminate order, willing the jacket and shirt plastered to his back to peel away with the crisp crack of cologne every step he took. Maybe a self-styled Sherlock some decades in the future would stumble upon their stiffened contours and deduce that corsets had returned to fashion. The thought gave him a perverse pleasure, and he would have carried it further to shed trousers and belt and patent shoes—but no, his phone was in his pocket, and there was no way he’d leave it behind. The motorway stretched impossibly long to the front and impassably thin to the back: the only way out was left, to the mirror and the words, and when he looked into it he saw past himself a shopfront he hadn’t noticed before. Victorian swirls looped alluringly round its windows, hinting at a feminine fragrance to be found within. If those were eyes hidden by the grille then this shopfront was the mouth, lipsticked and full, yearning to be kissed. He turned: there to his right was the door he hadn’t seen, and on it, beneath a gilded Maidenrose, an ornate knob, flowery and sheathed in thorns. He turned: the latch yielded with a silent squeal, and as he entered there was nobody to see from outside. There was only the poster, and his reflection in it across the street—but even that was fading, like melting frost, and already his name was gone and his shape was gone and there was only the door, the sign, and the words of the poster. Boyfriend.

*** It smelled of darkness inside the store. Not one shadowed, weighted down with dust: this was a darkness which held its breath, dreaming of promise and mystery in the same outstretched palm. He took a step in, and another, and found that the scent surrounding him was not altogether unpleasant. Silk sashes, he suddenly thought. This was a darkness of stockings on skin. As his eyes adjusted he picked out a low counter to his left, and then a figure behind it, bent over some tools on its desk. Strange: he seemed to remember a bell ringing as he came in, but the silence lay thick and undisturbed and the figure made no move to greet any would-be guest. He drew near the counter, his steps raising soft puffs of sound as he walked, but still the figure showed no acknowledgement of his presence; then he was right in front of it, his shadow towering over its tools, and only then did she look up and motion and say, “You’re blocking the light.” This must be the shopkeeper. The poster, he began; the job opening: but already the shopkeeper had swept the tools off the table and replaced them with a clean printed sheet, one dotted line in a sea of white. There are no conditions and no fine print, she informed him as she put a pen in his hand. Just sign here and we’ll be ready to start… and then the form was whisked away from under his hand and she was leading him, with a soft grip imperative, into the back of the shop where corridors unfolded into nets endlessly wide. Six faces to a cube and four sides to a door, and a dozen doors to his left and his right: he managed to blurt that he had no experience in being a boyfriend. She nodded. It’s all right, she said, fitting key into old-fashioned lock and pulling the door open. No one’s going to be able to tell. A gloved hand took his, touched pale lips: a kiss. But the hand was wrong. Hers had been warm but this was cool. Hers had been soft but this was hard. He looked up, past the wrist peach-cream and impossibly smooth, past the ball and socket and the elbow in joint, and past the sculpted nose on a miniature face, until he reached the eyes of the girl and realised that they were not human. It was the plastic and the paint, the reflection in her gaze. She wore a beauty courteously detached, her eyes expressive but also empty, as if she had been elevated from birth just a dimension too high. Flesh and blood, that was all he was, but she was more: cooler and simpler, plastic and thus perfect. He had gazed, enraptured, into the doll girl’s eyes for a long while before he started to grow aware that the shopkeeper was talking to him. “Her name is Alice,” he surfaced to hear—and immediately he was swept away again, this time to vistas fantastic and

fey where roses took root in the sky, where the only time was either dawn or dusk, where a doll was as tall as a man and they could stroll beneath the flowers, hand in handâ&#x20AC;Ś He barely heard the shopkeeper any more, there was only one voice for him and it was Alice in his ears, Alice in his head. Now she sat on his arm; now he stood at the door. The way forward was long no more. He once was lost but now could see: a path to walk along the street. Gathering the skirts in hand, he nodded once and went. *** His home was an unimpressive affair in the outskirts of town, falling in that range they call economical and genuinely believe to be so. Twelve steps up to level two, trying not to pick up rust on his shoes, and then another twelve before they reached his floor. There was a gate from stair to corridor: small was the gate, and narrow the road that led down to his squalid apartment front. The door was flecked and faded, its patience wearing visibly thin in several places, and the doorknob cheap alloy not much thicker than the paint on the walls. The letterbox: full but not fulfilling, a box unchecked for several days past. All he got were ads and foldouts, poster girls in print. In truth, he was apprehensive. There was a shame to being caught in such conditions, he knew: but she had smiled the whole way up and her face was smiling still. It was sign enough for him to open the door and lead her in. First was her hat: he took it only to realise that he had no hooks to hang it on. Back on her head it went. Then places: after a few imperious words he quickly submitted, and she took the sofa and he took the floor. And finally refreshments. For himself he took a shortcake from the fridge, and for herâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;she got the television. She watched the ads on screen and he watched her off, and as the evening yawned awake the soundtrack of commercialisation was the only thing to be heard in the house. He realised that the real cause of his worries in bringing Alice home was the insidious fear that his house might sap the ethereal from her paint and whittle the essence from her joints, but as he looked at her now he saw that her otherworld loveliness had not dimmed, and had in fact grown even more enticing than when he had first met her. Her eyes: if before they were black they were bottomless now, empty but impossibly deep, and in the dusk her smile was more sculptedly inscrutable than it had ever seemed. He felt that he could sit and just gaze at her through the night, starve himself of food to be satiated in fascination, as the music of advertising jingles crooned them a soft background lullaby. Then there was sudden creak, and her neck snapped sideways and she slumped to the floor.

At an unnamed desk in an unknown street a women drew a symbol on an unmarked sheet. But that was far away, barely important, like the singing of the television as it chorused blindly on about medical insurance and veterinary care, and the man did not hear it. He was panicking, pacing, down on the floor and close to a fit. He scrambled to right her head but it only tilted more obstinately, falling to the left, until with a sound of splintering card her head broke clean off to roll onto the table. Try as he might the head would not house the neck, and he saw with horror that the paint on her cheeks was pitted and uneven, and that her hair hung stiff like pillars of sun-dried salt. The magic was fading, was almost gone, and had he been able to lift even a finger to stop it? He turned the head around and saw there, in the dulling light of her eyes, a last desperate appeal like the flicker of a hook through water. It called and he answered. He brought the face up to his and his eyes up to hers, and he kissed her, pulse to polymer. In his head some new awareness bloomed; but everything around it was folding in, flattening down, reverting from cubes to paper-drawn nets before a snowstorm gale howled in and coated everything white. Then it was still. All was calm and all was bright, except for that sole remaining awareness, like a symbol on an unmarked sheet. He let the head go and it swivelled to the floor, and he with it, the room spiralling around him until he was out, the stairs spiralling around him until he was down, the streets spiralling around him until he was away. He knew what he had to do. *** The district held an awkward depth. Road signs 236220 pixels away leered at him: he saw they were 600ppi. Too low. They were all too clear, the flaws in the lines: should have been unbroken, should have been fine. And yet at seventy thousand pixels everything swam and just would not settle. The details blurred even if the shapes did not, and he could not see the writing for the wall. The people who passed him by were too rendered at a strange, blurred resolution, turning their forms textureless and indistinct. He had difficulty telling man from woman and woman from child, but their expressions were clear and it was revulsion they wore. They shied away from him and parted around him, and when he looked around he realised that no one was going the same direction he did. It made him feel more cleanly real than he had ever felt before. He finally stopped in front of the store after passing it thrice from three different directions. The sign was off, must have retired or resigned, and the thorns on the handle were worn as if dull: like paper they crumpled at his touch. He let go and it sprang back into shape, creases smoothing themselves out under an hurried finger

unseen, but he had already turned away. He knew that the door would have crumpled too, had he pushed further, and he knew that all he would have found within the cardboard walls was a diorama room that would shake at his every breath. A beacon could only call for as long as it was real. And so it was with his shirt and his shoes, the phone he held he could never let himself lose. But not the poster across the street: its words stood solid as ink black blocks, then seemed to meld and morph, swelling into the shape first of him, then of Alice. Alice, he thinks, and feels a pinprick life through the paper. It was her. It is her. He sets off. The buildings bend themselves over to serve as shortcuts, folding reams into roads, and hideaways for speed. He cuts up the crowd and leaves no trace in the underfoot snow. He follows, he tails, he chases, two real things in a world of fake, until the crowd has been blown all away and they are two, he and his Alice, alone in a paper alleyway under a midnight sky, the moon clouded over with smoke. She has seen him; now she speaks. I told you, even a beggar from the street… But he cuts into her words, shushing her still, breaths like a cold knife’s edge. My Alice, mine. Come to me. Let us be together again. But she was no Alice, had never been from the start. Paper was all she had been. Under his grip she crumpled and tore, and when he had forced himself through the shreds of her self all he found was a litter of snowflakes, orphaned to the floor. The buildings round folded away in fear—the city silent—until all was monochrome, flat and light. So he stood, one man in a sea of white. He thought of Alice, the girl who never was. He thought of himself, the man who was no more. And he thought of her, the girl who once had been. Did he love her? Oh, yes he did.

《着迷，於那些跳佛朗明哥的女子》 ——與黃碧雲《血卡門》的文本對話林穎汶一、蘿達大抵是個不着迷的女子。着迷需要力量。她無法控制生命置於她的力量。不是太輕。就是太重。太輕，如路過蜻蜓；太重，則雙雙幻滅。「二，三，三是重步。蘿達你不明白。之重之輕。蘿達不想像。」所以她弟弟聽樂者拉奏莫札特的五一六時哭。蘿達不哭。她覺得他們只是肚子餓。着迷需要想像需要感受需要用力需要重。蘿達甚麼都不想就很快樂。她有她的舞，雖然總跳得不好，輕重總拿捏不準。但，人生又何必如此認真？認真的人最終住進精神病院。或傷害。或自殺。舞的媚，身體的痛，生的重，她不問，不想。她只知道缺失。「芭芭拉。是不是這樣。不是太輕。就是太重。 ——一一。——一一。——一一。——一一。」二、盧特斯着迷。所以她幻滅。「但為甚麼會是你呢。我見到你的時候，你看我一眼。當時我就覺得，從頭到腳，你的流連從頭到腳。」着迷不叫人明白。像盧特斯不明白，為甚麼會是愛內思度？甫開始已不明所以。所以她看，從頭到腳。愛內思度也看她，用那雙黑眼睛黑月亮似的瞅盧特斯。只是瞅。觀看的力量有多大。觀眾看盧特斯在台上跳佛朗明哥，「所有人都期待她呈現，期待她奮發生命的光彩，期待美麗期待殘暴，哀傷或其他慾望」，但如果她不再光彩了？着迷地觀看不需要理解。僅需要想像。佛朗明哥舞者是掠過眼睛表面的一抹紅。

所以他們不理解盧特斯的痛。他們只視盧特斯的舞為把酒談歡時的餘興節目。是否盧特斯是否痛，毫不重要。愛內思度的瞅，盧特斯的看，甚於觀看。如探戈。或更深層的一些甚麼。如一個眼神便觸動靈魂。如看到深處即着迷而你我不能自拔。不能自拔地顫栗。不能自拔地不明所以。不明。所以，愛內思度叫她害怕。沉默叫人害怕。明澄的雙眼叫人害怕。一種既不驚動又不熱烈的靜，叫人害怕。假如太接近，着迷便不再是着迷。着迷最終會迎來，幻滅。最後盧特斯嫁予一個平凡男子。但望穿心底直達靈魂深處的顫栗，卻未曾離她而去。三、「噠噠噠。一個人在舞室，萊泛愛拉非常專注非常靜。專注就是美，靜也非常美。喬治亞推門進去。她坐在一角的地上看萊泛愛拉。」萊泛愛拉理性與節制。並沒有可以改變她的事情。這個世界沒有甚麼大不了。沒有愛也沒有失望。她給她母親的愛的承諾，是「你好老好醜又好自私，我還是會看着你。」她總是給別人意見給別人真相給別人幻滅。她沒有甚麼好給自己的，因為她明白她，甚麼都不需要。亦從來沒有。「但我實在不需要任何人。」「如果你靜靜的進入我的生命。」毫不安靜的媚行的喬治亞，總是對萊泛愛拉微微笑。她會誘惑，她會色誘，她會挑逗男子可這一切都不過是鬧着玩。他們都不是喬治亞想挑逗的。某日一個夜漸昏的時刻，在黑暗中的舞室喬治亞靜靜推門而入。她看見美。着迷是，一個愛挑逗的嫵媚意大利女子，靜靜的看一個德國女子，跳佛朗明哥。一個從來不哭泣的德國女子，在那個夜晚感受到，哭泣是何其誘惑。

如果你靜靜的進入我的生命。幾近哀求。「萊泛愛拉是天使的名字。天使不想念。天使不戀愛。」天使自然也不着迷。四、女子跳舞，女子痛。女子着迷，女子幻滅。着迷，於那些跳佛朗明哥的女子，令人着迷。如我無法擺脫一抹血紅突然揚起如蔓珠莎華，一襲黑墨驟降如同馳騁的一匹野馬，在路上，在夢中。懷着生命的破洞的蘿達，是否亦是我們每個？盧特斯之痛，是否亦如我之痛？萊泛愛拉不曾有過或拒絕去有的，或喬治亞的嫵媚。不明所以，又或甚明所以，因而着迷。我亦曾期待過，某個跳佛朗明哥的女子，嫵媚姿態媚出骨子，沉默彷似蘊藏熱烈但，靜。她們可是你？你可曾是她們？一，二。一，二，三。一，二，三。有否着迷，有否幻滅？噠噠噠。彭，得，得，彭，彭，彭。你可曾愛，佛朗明哥？不知不覺間，我已着迷於台上那些跳佛朗明哥的女子，久久不能挪移。

Obsession

Aimer Joies

‘... our eyes, ears, noses, tongues, bodies and minds are burning, burning with craving and hatred, our ignorance fuels the fire...’ said in the Budhha’s Fire Sermon. Frank story: Frank, I am Frank. Some years ago, never mind how long precisely, I had sailed into the most watery part of the world for years. The Atlantic sea, there buried numerous souls and glories of great seamen, there rested all the secrets we barely acknowledged, there hided the Elixir to all the human’s curiosities. Even, the ancient Greece Titans were blocked their way to the mount Olympus by this immense blueness Poseidon owned. What sort of marvelous, glorious and priceless treasures could you hunt in this unlimited water? For me, the Fountain of Youth, was always my in-soul desire, seeking in the great homeland of Moby. My sister was a Plato’s follower, she always murmured about the great destiny led us to the future. I had once doubted it but not until I first saw the greatness of the sea. I was obsessed with its openness and liberation. That’s why I journeyed with my two cousins, Angus and Judy, on a small whale-ship, entering into the unknown and searching for the most mysterious tale in history. Destiny, I guessed. Part I: ‘Water of life’ Few days of voyage usually felt weird for sailors, especially, when you spent most of lifetime inland. Yet, I was the only one who was abnormally calm and relaxed, hugging with the sea breeze and hearing the neigh of Poseidon’s first creation. Maybe I was born to be offshore, I wondered. ‘ My dear cousin, dost thou really believe in that indigenous American spring? Or dost thou try to find another true fortunes out here? ’ I was wordless for a while, full of thoughtfulness; what Judy asked filled me with a certain wild vagueness and shamefulness, what sort of feeling was that? I felt it’s germinating in my deepest heart. Did I navigate in the Seven Seas where Leviathan lightly napped, for the immortality given by that mythical pool barely existed? Or was I trying to escape from the tragic death of my love, erasing all the grief via my departure? Who knew? But what I certainly sure about was that without the ‘Water

of Life’, the liquid granting imperishable souls and the fleeing from death, Odin would separate my Juliet and I til the day of Ragnarok. At the moment I was about to break my silence, Angus shouted loud like a Spartan and pointed his harpoon forward at a small black dot stained on the front sea rim. ‘ Let take a closer look, my boys!’ Circling in the limitless Atlantic for couple days had nearly exhausted all our fresh water, which was the most fundamental supplement for a long travel, especially in sea. How ironical Jehovah was, for not allowing us to drink but to surround us with the most instinctive need of human. Out of options, I approved Judy’s bold request reluctantly. Part II Agartha Tell me, which city, on your list, is the most magnificent, overwhelming and superior? London? Manhattan? Or even far to the eastern Tokyo? Doubtlessly would I reject any kinds of your response, after I had been strolling around the glowing safe-haven at a real corner of North Atlantic Ocean. Agartha, the legendary city said to be down towards the earth core, whether true or not, not sure, but trusted that it’s deep enough to guide you through the blackgate of Hades’ palace. The whole city was constructed peripherally around a huge black hole on ground, resembled to the dwarfish dungeon in Tolkien’s fanatic story. Every rock-inlaid houses, brick and brick of walls and any doorways as you passed were plated with shiny gold and enchanted with magical brightness. Silver strings hanged and branched out like spider-web above the underground cave, linking each sectors altogether, citizen was flying around with their arm-hook. While the only entry located at a small water alley, half-visible from outside, leading the outsider’s ship toward this secret Utopia. Before crossing the sea-hermit’s border, troops of barbarian scout solider, equipped with Viking-styled combat suits, had encircled our ship ashore. We were captured and led to face their High King’s judge. That Stupid coward, Angus, cried revealing our weaknesses those pagans sneered at! Part III: The lust supper ‘ Invaders, what was your doing here in Agartha?’ ‘ My king, my cousins and I were just common travelers. We came across here looking for some replenishments, fresh water particularly.’

To my surprise, unlike those ‘primitive’ dwellers, that High King looked extraordinarily benevolent and decent, same height as me, formally dressed in a yellowish long cloak and wore a exotic crown made of sea-star, shells and pearls. ‘ Oh then I would welcome and invite you to join our supper night, if you showed no harmfulness and hostility to our harmony, Frank.’ Such a generous and respectful leader he was, the barbarian king toured us in his mysterious kingdom personally, besides tones of precious gifts whatever you name. I wondered was that what it would be like, when Dante tripped with Vergil in inferno? Same kind of honorable experience, the only difference between two was: we were at the garden of Persephone, but not the nine circles of sufferings. The sky was glittering and full of constellations, Cancer and Taurus gleamed peculiarly. The air floated with Bach-styled music, pipe organ leaded, not that uncivilized I had imagined. The supper was held at an open roofless hall, where sat hundred of civilians. It was queer and hilarious that there were no any appetizers or even water served on those royally decorated high tables, maybe savages preferred having a mouthful meal instead of those tiny western stuffs. The music stopped so as people’s chatting and laughing noises, King Thuka stepped up the ladder to the central rostrum, after gaining the height, he casted a look forward, stood there for a long while and then voiced. At my first glimpse, I nearly kneed down for the sincerity and sanctity he carried! ‘ My dear sons, daughters (Sons and daughters? What an inappropriate and arrogant opening for a speech!), and three children from outland, (What? Children? Even the youngest Angus could be his father’s age! What an impudent addressing for us!), centuries ago, I took off from my motherland in pursue of the holy fountain. Decades and decades of headless chase was not in vain, it had led us to this pure land where the sanctuary lied and waited for discovery.’ He took out a bible and raised his voice. Two thoughts came to me at once: what was that ancient scripture all about? Did the ‘fountain’ be my long thirsted prey? My blood boiled as the fire of Vulcan was set in my heart, swallowing inches and inches of my body. ‘ However, my abominable desire and inmost devil had driven me to become a sinner; same kind of crime Cain had committed. This, my fellow children, this is other lesson from god whom place myself before you as a model of repentance and the evil of obsession. Lastly, ask yourself a simple question: what can change the nature of a man?

’ As Thuka was giving the sermon, his eyes kept focusing on me as like as there were no others but only two of us. However, I didn’t pay any attentions on his doctrines but only on what he beheld. I wondered maybe I could dig out some secrets about ‘ the sanctuary ’ mentioned from that scripture. He said no more, slowly waving a benediction, covered his face with his hand, and so remained keeling til the hall was filled with music as well as food smell again. Part IV: Ignorant truth Sneaking into Thuka’s room was not that hard as I thought, no guards or even a locked door on my way to there. Rather unexpectedly, the bedroom showed no royalty and nobility, there was nothing but a huge, flat and round stone bed, where Thuka lay, half-naked, and deeply slept. What a coincident! He carried a similar tattoo as mine, same black color, same figure of skull and same position at the chest. Maybe a naughty trick played by the Norns, the three angles of faith, I thought. I tiptoed around the room and looked for that old sutra, easier than I presumed, it was just put beneath Thuka’s hairy legs. With great carefulness, I slowly slipped it out without making a lot of noises, tightly held it and skimmed across the words. To my surprise, it was a journal rather than a bible or scripture, however, a few lines grasped my sight instinctively, storming my inner soul ruthlessly. ‘... I feel sorry for Andy and Johnny but I have no other options, I believe they would forgive what I have done to them. Taking them into account, I need one more soul to finish the ritual, and soon, the Gate of Oblivion will open and reunite Joise and me. One more soul and one last oblation, I must wait, wait for the nameless one to come...’ That journal gave a detail description about the ritual, an iniquitous idea flashed across my fluctuating mind. I took out a hidden blade from my boot, my hand slowly and slowly stretched to Thuka’s neck so as the blade, sweat rained out all over my body. All in sudden, Thuka struggled to wake up and stroke me on the back. With a grunt, he launched himself at me. His whole body collided with mine. Together we bounded into the floor, stumble towards the fallen blade. That’s a trap! I am the nameless one! Terror slammed into me, but then I hear the tiny voice again.

This is not the place you die. Not with him. Not now. Not until I saw Joie again. ‘ Calm down, my boy, don’t make the same mistake as me. Let me explain.’ He cried. But I was a snarling now, a beast, something like hate and hungry flooded out of me. Lunging forward, I grabbed the end of the blade. The angle of my body was wrong, but I managed to twist around and swung it back over my head, where I imagined Thuka’s neck would be. It cut something with a satisfying crack, and warm blood spilled on my chest, not mine but Thuka’s ... Epilogue: I cut off Judy’s and Angus’s face, ripped their hearts out of their chests, and took a bite on the bloody hearts. Fresh, juicy and salty. I chopped off their fingers one by one and chewed them with my tooth, making ‘cracking’ sound as my canine met with its bone. It was the 665 humans I had fed in the past ten years, following the ritual as the diary suggested. I felt sorry for my cousins but I believed they would forgive what I have done to them, afterwards, I had kept them to the last, partly because of our relationship and partly because of their strength which I expected giving the best texture to fresh meat. Wind leafed the diary to the end where a short sentence, I had never noticed of for over one decades, silent me. Horror started to grow, my mind was empty, my hand was shaking, hardly breathing and nearly fainting. It was written in a red ink, bloody smelled, and flurry-styled. ‘ To the other me: I know what you had done, I know all of your dirty work and what is your long- lasted obsession. I am you. Yes, I am not crazy, trust my word, never mind what you called now. Don’t believe in the legend, find the king and flee yourself together as you can. Remember what can change the nature of a man. ’ Memory flushed back as I was reading the lines, I remember how Thuka could name me while I never told him, how he kept his focus on me during the sermon, how our figure looked exactly the same and how he had the same tattoo as mine... What can change the nature of a man? I can’t tell.

Obsession They call it obsession with death— the idea that you never need take another painful breath: suicide. A way for her to escape and free herself from depression. But that’s not what they see. If this were dance, piano, or badminton, they would admire it and call it passion, for she disciplines herself, a delusion conceived that perfection, through pain, can be achieved. Ignoring the bruises, the cuts, the scars— she won’t stop until she’s with the stars. If this were a boy, an affair she’d begun, they would shake their heads, smile, and call it infatuation. It runs through her mind all day and night as she sits alone with a lone desk light. She tells her friends, you don’t understand when they warn her of its encroaching command. If this were her studies to become a surgeon, they would praise her and call it dedication because she concentrates as reality recedes, never taking failure as an answer when her attempts don’t succeed. She works hard and discards her tears; her effort will all pay off in a few years. If this were her behavior at a casino function, they would pity her and call it addiction. She gambles away what little she owns for the chance to escape from her burdens and loans. Not all tomorrow; not all today— but little by little, a little more each day. But because it is the idea of suicide, they turn a blind eye: it is nothing more than a state of mind, something that can be overcome with willpower. Don’t act like a victim. They call it obsession with death because “depression” is not real.

Danise Au

This is Partly Fictional.

Szsmfs

Desperado, I don’t know why I am writing this to you, but I just want to let you know a few things. First, your false generosity makes me A. desperately want to throw up because it is so pathetic to see you offering your “help” to some so-called hopeless girls (FYI not all girls need to be saved) B. seriously want to laugh out loud because it is so hilarious to watch you doing all the dirty works just to capture the tiniest attention for us girls. Second, please could you please could you please give me some responses? Don’t turn away. I know girls are like garden, and I know perfectly well I ain’t one of those flaming roses, those fresh jasmines, or even those chaste lilies. “You are like a treasure box with chains that can never be broken.” “You are both an angel and demon” You are one deep ocean in which I drown. Third, maybe you are a heart cold as ice, or maybe I am a fire that feels too much, I know that’s who you are, but living your true self isn’t the correct justification for treating people like they are nothing to you when they are in fact really noth-ing to you. I don’t really know why I am writing this, probably because my mouth tastes like Gin meets Rum right now. Please don’t write back. I beg you. Love, One of those fragile girls

I guess I wrote this because I felt pathetic, sad and ultimately very angry at myself Szsmfs I guess I wrote this because I felt pathetic, sad and ultimately very angry at myself You said you prefer red lipstick, You said you like girls in floral dresses, You said you love the scent of roses on my shoulder, You said you want me to be there 24/7, You said the ideal Sunday is the two of us discussing Orson Welles with red wine and sunset, You said you adore pure maiden. You said I light up your world. You said, “oh, (insert a girly name here) you’re great, but then maybe you can be a little less attention-seeking? I mean, you are never the centre of anyone’s life. Oh, one more thing, I hope you are not wearing this flirty dress with flowers and lace, you look like a slut in it, if you don’t mind me saying that. And perhaps you can trying Chanel No.5 instead? It’s more elegant, graceful, it’s more…refined (oh that’s the right word). You should look less like a whore and more like a girl-next-door. Stop following me around, stop asking what am I doing, stop checking up on me! Get a life, babe, everyone deserves freedom. You are a wonderful person, but then you are not, (this is going to be mean, but please try to understand) exactly who I am looking for. If only you were prettier, If only you were more simple-minded! You are such a darling, really, perhaps it’s all because I demand the best of the best.” “I’ll do whatever you want, I’ll be whoever you want me to be,” I smiled and nodded. Here I am, dressed to the nines, shivering to hold on tight the mask on my hand, a little too scared to look into the mirror, chasing around the ghost of you, in the sea of nameless sameness. You said you could never find someone like me, you replace me with a Barbie in pink.

着迷鄭家醇他是一個音樂人，擁有矛盾的性格、變幻的情緒、一對嘗試看透人生的雙眼和一個極力堅守心中小頑童的靈魂。他平時喜愛帶着一支筆、一本筆記，有靈感的一刻便錄下那原始的旋律和沒有意思的 "啦啦啦” 。他或許是一個鋼琴家，平時喜愛在琴鍵上跳着只有自己的舞，享受着那幻想出來的燈光。他喜歡待在海旁靜靜地發呆，任由那揉合着鹹味跟霧氣的海風刺着自己，嘗試解決心中糾結的問題－那是對真理的着迷。然而有一天，靈感再沒有叩他的門。音樂人為了得到靈感便決定開始一次找尋真理的旅程：在高速公路上聆聽這各種故事、在廣東道上與這荒謬城市進行心靈溝通、在通往堅尼地城的電車上探索大街與小巷、在天星小輪上感受着一進一退的湧流...... 他看見兩個愛得纏綿的男人只可在黯淡街燈的陪襯下讓情慾表露無遺；他看見在夜店裡跳舞的女人只可在激光四射的舞池上尋找着自我；他看見拾荒者在小巷探險，找尋着各種人生的寶藏；他看見既親密又陌生的路人擦身而過，任由時空編織着緣份...... 音樂人跟這城市水乳交融以後，靈感仿似泉湧；他不斷撕破心瓣，親自以筆墨和指尖勾出內心的黑暗與空無，從而端出一盤盤裝滿人性的血與肉。可是，這種 “藝術家必然的自虐” 必然涉及痛與淚。音樂人內心的千絲萬縷被抽得一乾二淨，並且還要讓人不斷審視、批判、偷窺、拋棄。但音樂人知道這個過程是對真理的着迷的代價。他很清楚這種着迷（甚至是執迷）對他來說不只是需求，而是生命的一部份。他驀然發現：着迷是自虐的、着迷是壯烈的、着迷是墮落的；着迷是欣賞不完美的完美；着迷是在 “存在”的空間找尋 “不存在”；着迷是擾亂穩定的時空；着迷，是讓人游離走火入魔與理智的邊緣。

Jason The Perpetual Anomie Then silence sings a nonchalant song Blinding an image that Imbued with a suffocating scent Fading into camouflage That which the unseen veil is as dark as Envisaging a dizzying fire To which the choking smoke reflects a portrait Of shadow chasing shadow Until a blast that smashes the eternal compulsion Opening to an sightless vision In which the hallucination ceases to buzz Then silence solos an apathetic melody

Self

Turn your head Look at the infinite She said Keep running and Chase the shadow He said I hear neither of them Instead I

Remembrance of a shattered glass The sound of crack and splash Still piercing on my heart Nothing like yesterday A glimmering light that befalls me The last hope of a dead end Kept my soul in Until today I asked them Where is the end

Listen to the melody of transparent decadence Searching for the unbearable light Which enlightens my heart Realising the myth is No where to be found

Mini Library Book List Film Studies A1.E Film as Social Practice A2.E Film Theory: An Introduction A3.E A4.E A5.C A6.B A7.B A8.B A9.B A10.B A11.C A12.C A13.C

The Imaginary Signifier Wong Kar-wai’s Happy Together

B9.E B10.E B11.E

Men, Women, and Chainsaws Modest Witness@Second Millennium Oedipus in Evolution Of Women, Outcastes, Peasants, and Rebels The Rape of Clarissa Woman and Chinese Modernity Women, Texts and Histories 15751760

Marilyn Yalom Vron Ware Jeremy Tambling Richard Feldstein, Judith Roof Carol J. Clover Donna J. Haraway Christopher Badcock Kalpana Bardhan Terry Eagleton Rey Chow Clare Brant, Diane Purkiss

B12.E Visual Culture C1.E Back to Egypt C2.E Chen Dangqing: Painting after Tiananmen C3.C GO C4.E Sotheby's Magnificent Chinese Mirror Paintings and English C5.E Vision in Context C6.E

Without Sanctuary: Lynching Photography in America

Literary Theory and Culture Criticisms D1.E An Introduction to Literature, Criticism and Theory D2.E Aesthetics and Politics D3.E Blasted Allegories D4.E Critical Practice D5.E Critical Thinking: Selected Topics for Discussion and Analysis D6.E Ecrits: A Selection D7.E Malraux D8.E Malraux: La Condition Humaine (Studies in French Literature 23) D9.E Modern Man in Search of a Soul D10.E Mythologies D11.E New Perspectives - A Comparative Literature Year Book Vol.1 D12.E

New Perspectives - A Comparative Literature Year Book Vol.2

D13.E

Reorientations: Critical Theories and, Pedagogies Repression and Figuration from Totem to Utopia The Kristeva Reader The Power of Myth The Spivak Reader

D14.E D15.E D16.E D17.E

Do Do Jin Ming Ackbar Abbas OCAT Sotheby Teresa Brennan, Martin Jay James Allen

Andrew Bennett, Nicholas Royle Fredric Jameson Brian Wallis Catherine Belsey Chuan Aik Kam& Stephen Edmonds Jacques Lacan R.W.B. Lewis J.A Hiddleston C.G. Jung Roland Barthes University of Hong Kong, Peking University University of Hong Kong, Peking University Bruce Henricksen

E2.E E3.B E4.E E5.E

Camera Lucida Essential Grammar in Use Futures for English Oxford Paperback Dictionary & Thesaurus The Pocket Oxford Dictionary The Prison-House of Language The Voice of Things

Jacques Derrida The Hong Kong Standard Roland Barthes Raymond Murphy Colin MacCabe Oxford Oxford Fredric Jameson Francis Ponge

Poetry and Theoretical books on Poetry F1.E Poetry, Language, Thought Martin Heidegger F2.C I F3.C II Novels and Theoretical Books on Novels G1.E A Doll’s House G2.F A l'ombre des jeunes filler en fleurs G3.F Du cote de chez Swann G4.E Foe G5.E Goodbye Columbus G6.E Goodnight Lady G7.E Kiss of the Spider Woman G8.F La Bâtarde G9.F La tentation de I' Occident G10.F Lazarus G11.E Life is Elsewhere G12.E My Beautiful Laundrette G13.E Onitsha G14.E Querelle of Brest G15.E René Leys G16.E Rose Mellie Rose G17.E The Awakening G18.E The Fountainhead G19.E The Magic Toyshop G20.F Un amour de Swann G21.E Understanding Othello G22.C G23.C II G24.C III G25.C IV G26.C V G27.C G28.C Hong Kong and China Studies H1.E China and Southeast Asia: Changing Socio-Cultural Interactions H2.E Frontiers of History in China Vol. 7 H3.E Frontiers of History in China Vol. 8 No. 1 H4.E Frontiers of History in China Vol. 8 No.2 H5.E HKU Space and it Alumni: The First Fifty years H6.E Hong Kong: Culture and the Politics Disappearance H7.E Mao's Great Famine H8.E Rethinking Hong Kong: New Paradigms, New Perspectives H9.E

Antony Tatlow Toril Moi Oseph Campbell JDonna Landry, Gerald Maclean

Writing and Difference

Theoretical Books on Language E1.B A Dictionary of English Usage

E6.E E7.E E8.E E9.C

Gender and Sexuality Studies B1.E A History of Breast B2.E Beyond the Pale B3.E Confession: Sexuality, Sin, the Subject B4.E Feminism and Psychoanalysis B5.E B6.E B7.E B8.E

D18.E Graeme Turner Robert Lapsley Michael Westlake Christian Metz Jamery Tambling

H10.C H11.C H12.C H13.C

South-East Asia, 1930-1970: The Legacy of Colonialism and Nationalism

Henrik Ibsen Marcel Proust Marcel Proust J.M. Coetzee Philip Roth Martina Cole Manuel Puig Violette Leduc André Malraux André Malraux Milan Kundera Hanif Kureishi J. M. G. Le Clézio Jean Genet J.A. Underwood Marie Redonnent Kate Chopin Ayn Rand Angela Carter Marcel Proust Faith Nostbakken

University of Hong Kong Di Wang, Zujie Yuan Di Wang, Zujie Yuan Di Wang, Zujie Yuan Lawrence M.W. Chiu, Peter Cunish Ackbar Abbas Frank Dikötter Elizabeth Sin, Siu-lun Wong, Wong-hoi Cha Fred R. Von Der Mehden

H14.C H15.C H16.C H17.C Cultural Studies I1.E Albert Camus of Europe and Africa I2.E I3.E I4.E I5.E I6.E I7.E I8.E I9.E

Artificial Africans East-west Comparative Literature: Cross Cultural Discourse Europe and its others vol. 1 Europe and its others vol. 2 Europe’s Myths of Orient French Cultural Studies Vol.23 French Cultural Studies Vol.24 Learning from Las Vegas

I10.E

Of Vietnam

I11.E I12.E I13.C

Phantasmatic Indochina The Postcolonial Exotic

OUA8.E OUA9.E OUA10.E OUA11.E OUA12.E OUA13.E OUA14.E OUA15.E OUA16.E OUA17.E

Conor Cruise O’Brien Ruth Mayer Tak-wai Wong Francis Barker Francis Barker Rana Kabbani Dervila Cooke Nicholas Hewitt Robert Venturi, Steven Izenour, Denise Scott Brown Jane Bradley Winston, Chau-Pech Ollier Panivong Norindr Graham Norindr

I14.C

Biography J1.E André Malraux J2.E Anti-Memoirs J3.E Aurélia, La Pandora, Les Chimères J4.E Flaubert J5.E Picasso’s Mask J6.E Saint Genet: Actor and Martyr J7.E The Words Others K1.E K2.E K3.E K4.E

How to Live Without Fear and Worry Logic Tutor Obroni Where are you going? Philip Johnson Writings

Jean Lacouture André Malraux Gérard De Nerval Herbert Lottman André Malraux Jean-Paul Sartre Jean-Paul Sartre K.Sri Dhammananda Laurence Goldsein Oxford University Press

Open University Arts: A Second Level Course – The Enlightenment OUA1.E Tom Jones by Henry Fielding Part One OUA2.E Tom Jones by Henry Fielding Part Two OUA3.E Architecture and Landscape OUA4.E William Hogarth OUA5.E Hume’s Enquiry concerning the Principles of Morals OUA6.E Gibbon’s The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire OUA7.E Frederick the Great

Experient and Exploration Candide by Voltaire Haydn in London Mozart’s The Marriage of Figaro Adam Smith’s Wealth of Nations Joseph Wright of Derby Chardin Dangerous Acquantances Colour Book Gazetteer

A Third Level Course – Romantic Poetry OUB1.E Illustration Booklet OUB2.E Blake OUB3.E Wordsworth and Coleridge OUB4.E Keats OUB5.E Shelley A Third Level Course – The Nineteenth Century Novel and its Legacies OUC1.E A Study Guide to Mansfield Park OUC2.E Mansfield Park OUC3.E A Study Guide to Wuthering Heights OUC4.E OUC5.E OUC6.E OUC7.E OUC8.E OUC9.E OUC10.E OUC11.E OUC12.E OUC13.E OUC14.E OUC15.E OUC16.E OUC17.E Classical P1.E P2.E P3.E P4.E P5.E P6.E P7.E P8.E P9.E P10.E P11.E P12.E P13.E P14.E P15.E

Wuthering Heights A Study Guide to Great Expectations Great Expectations Cousin Bette On the Eve Poor Relations and Rich Publishers Middlemarch What Maisie Knew Tess of the d’ Urbervilles The Adventure of Huckleberry Finn Germinal Anna Karenina Points of View Legacies Literature A Pair of Silk Stockings The Beautiful Cassandra The Dolphins, the Whales and the Gudgeon The Great Fire of London How a Ghastly Story Was Brought to Light by a Common or Garden Dog How We Weep and Laugh at the Same Thing I Hate and I Love Kasyan from the Beautiful Lands Lips Too Chilled Mrs Rosie and the Priest On the Beach a Night Alone Remember, Body….. The Robber Bridegroom Well, They are Gone, and Here Must I Remain The Yellow Wall-Paper

Jean Lacouture Jane Austen Aesop Samuel Pepys Johann Peter Hebel Michel de Montaigne Catullus Ivan Turgenev Matsuo Basho Giovanni Boccaccio Walt Whitman C.P. Cavafy Brothers Grimm Samuel Taylor Coleridge Charlotte Perkins Gilman

You ar e m o st we lco m e to bor r ow a ny ite m s in ou r m ini libr ar y! Feel Free to contact our Academic Secretary, Scarlett Ng, at 97069723 to arrange appointment. Library materials for lending may be borrowed for a period of 14 days (can be extended upon request). An overdue fine of $5 per day is imposed on each and every loan item returned late. The borrower will be charged for any item(s) lost or damaged at the amount equal to the cost of that item(s).

Welfare List 序言書室

旺角西洋菜南街 68 號 7 樓

尚書房

旺角西洋菜南街 48 號 1 樓

梅馨書舍

旺角西洋菜南街 66 號 7 樓

Eternity （男西裝）

兆萬中心 B106A 號鋪

Fantasy （女裝） My Room （女裝） Pink Rabbit （女裝） AP : PM （男裝） Mr. Scarecrow （男裝）

金百利商場 302 號鋪金百利商場 128 號鋪東角 Laforet 商場 267 號鋪銅鑼灣地帶 258 號鋪銅鑼灣地帶 114 號鋪

Just In One UUU

兆萬中心 115 號鋪兆萬中心 195 號鋪

Honey House 卡通玩具專門店銅鑼灣地帶 245 號鋪

中文書 9 折，英文書 95 折（二手書及雜誌除外）所有貨品 95 折（影碟及特價品除外）正價貨品 9 折

正價貨品 8 折（寄賣品除外）所有貨品 9 折所有貨品 9 折所有貨品 9 折所有貨品 9 折所有貨品 85 折

買滿$100 即享 9 折所有貨品 9 折，購物免費包裝服務買滿$100 即享 9 折

Apple 紫弦藥妝店 SADA Beauty Miss. B Beauty Candy Magic

兆萬中心 308 號鋪兆萬中心 214 號鋪金百利商場 205 號鋪東角 Laforet 商場 150 號鋪

買滿$200 即享 9 折買滿$200 即享 9 折指甲上色產品 9 折所有貨品 9 折（DAY CON 除外）

小品大作（水晶） Sun Wing Gift Shop Haslla

兆萬中心 309 號鋪潮流特區 222 號鋪金百利商場 337 號鋪

所有貨品 85 折所有貨品 9 折所有貨品 9 折（寄賣品除外）

Natural Island

Glimpse Workshop

家樂坊 F20B 號鋪所有貨品 9 折新之城 337 號鋪淘大商場 2 期 2/F S118 號鋪銅鑼灣地帶 268 號鋪所有貨品 9 折

Super City

星際城市 101 號鋪

UNI COMPANY 日昇電腦用品公司 Codesign Innovation Consultant

星際城市 105 號鋪星際城市 124 & 125 號鋪銅鑼灣地帶 254 號鋪

砌圖街

潮流特區 118 號鋪

江帆砌圖專門店 Puzzle King

金百利商場 226 號鋪

Mini Candy （糖果） PAS CHER （皮革產品）

銅鑼灣地帶 152 號鋪銅鑼灣地帶 130 號鋪

大部分貨品 9 折（個別貨品除外）正價貨品 9 折不同貨品不同優惠正價貨品 9 折

凡購買砌圖即送砌圖架一個，並享有 95 折優惠凡購買砌圖即送砌圖架一個，並享有 95 折優惠

買滿$35 即享 9 折皮革產品 9 折（寄賣品除外）

備註 Remarks：旺角西洋菜南街：旺角站D3 / E2出口兆萬中心：旺角西洋菜南街1N號（旺角站D3出口 / 油麻地站A2出口）新之城：旺角彌敦道688號（旺角站D2出口）潮流特區：旺角彌敦道580A - F號（旺角站E2出口 / 油麻地站A2出口）星際城市：旺角山東街47 - 51號（旺角站E2出口）金百利商場：銅鑼灣記利佐治街1號（銅鑼灣崇光百貨側 / 銅鑼灣站E出口）東角Laforet商場 : 銅鑼灣東角道24 - 26號（銅鑼灣站D1出口）銅鑼灣地帶：銅鑼灣記利佐治街2 - 10號（銅鑼灣站E出口）淘大商場2期：九龍灣牛頭角道77號（九龍灣站B出口）

條款及聲明 Declarations：１）所有店鋪優惠有效期至2016年3月31日。 All offers are valid until 31st March, 2016. ２）如欲享受店鋪優惠，同學必須先出示比較文學學會會員卡。 To enjoy the above discounts, students must show the membership card of Society of Comparative Literature. ３）如有任何爭議，提供優惠的店鋪保留最終決定權。 All matters and disputes will be subject to the final decision of the sponsoring companies.

着迷 Obsession 比較文學期刊（第二期） Newsletter II of Society of Comparative Literature _______________________________________________________ 編輯及排版設計: 吳溢鏘

Edit and Design: Kaden Ng 出版: 二零一四至二零一五年度香港大學學生會文學院學生會比較文學學會

Publisher: Society of Comparative Literature, A.A.H.K.U.S.U., Session 2014-2015 地址: 香港大學方樹泉文娛中心2A01室

Address: Room 2A01, Fong Shu Chuen Amenities Centre, the University of Hong Kong 電郵:

scomplit@hku.hk; hkuscomplit@gmail.com

網址:

Website

http://www.scomplit.hkusu.hku.hk

出版日期: 二零一五年十月三十日

Date of Issue: 30th October 2015 頁數: 五十

Pages: 50

AN IDEA IS LIKE A

VIRUS,

RESILIENT, HIGHLY CONTAGIOUS. THE SMALLEST SEED OF AN IDEA CAN GROW.

IT CAN GROW TO

DEFINE

DESTROY YOU.

Address: Room 2A01, Fong Shu Chuen Amenities Centre, the University of Hong Kong Website: www.scomplit.hkusu.hku.hk Email: scomplit@hku.hk; hkuscomplit@gmail.com