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SYMBOLISM IN TIBETAN BUDDHIST ART

MEANINGS AND PRACTICAL APPLICATIONS

A richly presented, if didactic, survey of Buddhist thought.

An illustrated treatise on Tibetan religious art that explores visual motifs—animals, flowers, geometric symbols, and much else—that convey precepts of Buddhist philosophy.

Huber and Glantz (The Golden Valley, 2016) spotlight artworks from the Senge Buddhist monasteries in Tibet’s Golden Valley, found on furniture, altar pieces, scripture boxes, prayer wheels, and other objects produced over the last 600 years. They present more than 625 images of these pieces, which feature intricate compositions of flowing lines and vibrant hues of red, blue, pink, green and orange. (Huber notes that he finds the paintings so bizarre and psychedelic that he fleetingly wonders, “could the artists be on drugs, possibly LSD?”) The book is therefore a visual feast, and the authors focus on interpreting this imagery in light of Buddhist precepts. They arrange the text with alphabetic entries on specific visual tropes, which include information on aesthetics, folkloric associations, and mystic, philosophical allusions. Thus, the entry on bael notes the real-world fruit’s aromatic pulp and effectiveness at relieving diarrhea, as well as its reputed ability to boost positive karma to bring one closer to ending samsara, the cycle of suffering and reincarnation; its use in fertility rituals; its canonical artistic representation in groups of three representing “the three jewels of Buddhism”; and its symbolization of “the goal of recognizing emptiness and dependency and the connection between cause and effect.” Throughout, the authors’ investigation of symbols ranges from the mundane to the fanciful. Fish images imply happiness, they note, as well as fertility and the inexhaustible abundance of the Buddha’s energy. The lotus flower speaks of “the soul’s path from the mud of materialism to the purity of enlightenment.” A picture of a skull made into a cup filled with boiling human fat is no mere provocation, but symbolizes “the empowerment of the absolute truth of no self and the realization of the ‘illusory body’.” Their extensive discussions of these subjects effectively make the text a sort of primer on Buddhist doctrine, with substantial sections on the Four Noble Truths, the Eightfold Noble Path, and the Five Precepts. The authors recount vignettes from the Buddha’s life and parables, such as a tale of a tortoise that refused to leave his pond when it dried up (teaching the folly of attachment to worldly things). They reprint a lengthy Buddhist hymn and sprinkle representative mantras throughout. Overall, though, this book isn’t the most imaginative introduction to Buddhism’s esoteric precepts, due in part to the authors’ dry, catechistic tone, and they’re also rather vague about the “applications” of the lore they present, despite mentioning them in the book’s subtitle. Still, many people will discover uses for this book; novice meditators, for example, will find ideas to ponder and phrases to chant; designers of prayer flags (as well as death-metal band posters) will find resonant imagery; and general readers with an interest in Buddhism and art will find encyclopedic information on a significant tradition with much aesthetic appeal.

A richly presented, if didactic, survey of Buddhist thought.

Pub Date: Nov. 17, 2018

ISBN: 978-1-73146-934-2

Page Count: 107

Publisher: Time Tunnel Media

Review Posted Online: Jan. 17, 2019

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DRESS YOUR FAMILY IN CORDUROY AND DENIM

Sedaris’s sense of life’s absurdity is on full, fine display, as is his emotional body armor. Fortunately, he has plenty of...

Known for his self-deprecating wit and the harmlessly eccentric antics of his family, Sedaris (Me Talk Pretty One Day, 2000, etc.) can also pinch until it hurts in this collection of autobiographical vignettes.

Once again we are treated to the author’s gift for deadpan humor, especially when poking fun at his family and neighbors. He draws some of the material from his youth, like the portrait of the folks across the street who didn’t own a TV (“What must it be like to be so ignorant and alone?” he wonders) and went trick-or-treating on November first. Or the story of the time his mother, after a fifth snow day in a row, chucked all the Sedaris kids out the door and locked it. To get back in, the older kids devised a plan wherein the youngest, affection-hungry Tiffany, would be hit by a car: “Her eagerness to please is absolute and naked. When we ask her to lie in the middle of the street, her only question was ‘Where?’ ” Some of the tales cover more recent incidents, such as his sister’s retrieval of a turkey from a garbage can; when Sedaris beards her about it, she responds, “Listen to you. If it didn’t come from Balducci’s, if it wasn’t raised on polenta and wild baby acorns, it has to be dangerous.” But family members’ square-peggedness is more than a little pathetic, and the fact that they are fodder for his stories doesn’t sit easy with Sedaris. He’ll quip, “Your life, your privacy, your occasional sorrow—it’s not like you're going to do anything with it,” as guilt pokes its nose around the corner of the page. Then he’ll hitch himself up and lacerate them once again, but not without affection even when the sting is strongest. Besides, his favorite target is himself: his obsessive-compulsiveness and his own membership in this company of oddfellows.

Sedaris’s sense of life’s absurdity is on full, fine display, as is his emotional body armor. Fortunately, he has plenty of both.

Pub Date: June 1, 2004

ISBN: 0-316-14346-4

Page Count: 288

Publisher: Little, Brown

Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010

Kirkus Reviews Issue: April 15, 2004

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DEAR MR. HENSHAW

Possibly inspired by the letters Cleary has received as a children's author, this begins with second-grader Leigh Botts' misspelled fan letter to Mr. Henshaw, whose fictitious book itself derives from the old take-off title Forty Ways W. Amuse a Dog. Soon Leigh is in sixth grade and bombarding his still-favorite author with a list of questions to be answered and returned by "next Friday," the day his author report is due. Leigh is disgruntled when Mr. Henshaw's answer comes late, and accompanied by a set of questions for Leigh to answer. He threatens not to, but as "Mom keeps nagging me about your dumb old questions" he finally gets the job done—and through his answers Mr. Henshaw and readers learn that Leigh considers himself "the mediumest boy in school," that his parents have split up, and that he dreams of his truck-driver dad driving him to school "hauling a forty-foot reefer, which would make his outfit add up to eighteen wheels altogether. . . . I guess I wouldn't seem so medium then." Soon Mr. Henshaw recommends keeping a diary (at least partly to get Leigh off his own back) and so the real letters to Mr. Henshaw taper off, with "pretend," unmailed letters (the diary) taking over. . . until Leigh can write "I don't have to pretend to write to Mr. Henshaw anymore. I have learned to say what I think on a piece of paper." Meanwhile Mr. Henshaw offers writing tips, and Leigh, struggling with a story for a school contest, concludes "I think you're right. Maybe I am not ready to write a story." Instead he writes a "true story" about a truck haul with his father in Leigh's real past, and this wins praise from "a real live author" Leigh meets through the school program. Mr. Henshaw has also advised that "a character in a story should solve a problem or change in some way," a standard juvenile-fiction dictum which Cleary herself applies modestly by having Leigh solve his disappearing lunch problem with a burglar-alarmed lunch box—and, more seriously, come to recognize and accept that his father can't be counted on. All of this, in Leigh's simple words, is capably and unobtrusively structured as well as valid and realistic. From the writing tips to the divorced-kid blues, however, it tends to substitute prevailing wisdom for the little jolts of recognition that made the Ramona books so rewarding.

Pub Date: Aug. 22, 1983

ISBN: 143511096X

Page Count: 133

Publisher: Morrow/HarperCollins

Review Posted Online: Oct. 16, 2011

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Aug. 1, 1983

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