Simon weighs in on the great Hemlock debate and concludes thusly:
And that’s where I draw a line under the inquiry. The beauty is that Hemlock chooses to remain anonymous, for good reason. There’s no point trying to find out who he is, for that would simply end one of the best journals on the web today. Fact or fiction is besides the point. So let’s just leave it at this: Hemlock is a great writer and a discovery worth making on his own terms.
I have to agree with him.
I conducted a little thought experiment: If there was an envelope in front of me with Hemlock’s real identity inside - would I be willing to open and read it, if I knew that it would probably taint the whimsical nature of his persona?
Ultimately I realized that I’d be quite unwilling to take a peek. Who’d want to know the real identity of Winky Ip if it meant never reading of her exploits again?
Hemlock is the everyman of the upper middle class. He captures a perception of Hong Kong that is at once ruthlessly satirical and infinitely real. He makes Hong Kong instantly accessible even for an estranged expat like myself (albeit one who yearns to return to the fragrant harbour).
His anonymity gives his words further poignancy as you realize, just strolling around central that he could be exiting Prince’s Building as you go in, or bustling past the bakery on Lyndhurst Terrace as you’re ordering a box of the best Daan Tat money can buy.
It’s like being in the middle of 17th Century London and knowing that you share it with Samuel Pepys yet have no means of finding the man who documents it so tirelessly and eloquently, who’s writing is shaping your perception of the very city you stand in.
There’s a certain charm to that. One which I wouldn’t extinguish for all the smug self-satisfaction in the world.
Later
John
Posted by John Swaine at November 15, 2004 01:11 PM | TrackBack