Quakebook

Submitted by: Damon Coulter, Photojournalist
http://damoncoulter.photoshelter.com/

Submitted by: Douglas Wakimoto

Show your support for Japan by attending an eclectic evening of music, poetry and soul at Shibuya’s Pink Cow. Musicial performances by Nature Airline, Fumiya Sugimoto, Akiko Otao accompanied by Ai Yamazaki plus a very special #quakebook musical guest. Also hear poetry inspired by Japan and readings from #quakebook contributors.

The 1000 yen entry fee includes a light buffet courtesy of The Pink Cow. In addition to the entry fee we encourage you to make a donation to the Japanese Red Cross either at the door or through the purchase of #quakebook.

Come, help Japan and be inspired.

When: May 27th, 19:00 – 22:00
Where: The Pink Cow, Shibuya: www.thepinkcow.com
Cost: 1000 yen

From his home in Abiko, Our Man spoke live to CNN International mere hours ago on 17 May. He speaks about the book, and about his personal experience as the earthquake hit Abiko on 11 March. Quakebook team members Roberto De Vido and Kevin Carroll, as well as contributor Yuko Kato, are also featured at the beginning of the CNN video report:

http://tinyurl.com/6hjezfd

Things are well under way and details being finalised for the release of the physical book! As you have probably already heard, Quakebook will feature both the English and Japanese versions of all the stories in the same volume and will be available through Amazon.co.jp.

You can pre-order the book here!

The cover above is still just a draft and the final price yet to be officially decided, but it’s pretty close now. Stay tuned over the coming weeks.

File this one under “better late than never”.

On 25 April, The Atlantic published an interview with Our Man in Abiko and editor @ThatDanRyan. The interview was conducted by Atlantic associate editor Jared Keller, who has given Quakebook some of its best press. Read on:

http://www.theatlantic.com/technology/archive/2011/04/quakebook-international-sorrow-finds-an-outlet-online/237302/1/

On Thursday, 12 May, Time Out Tokyo published what Our Man likes to call a “crowd-sourced” interview.  In typical Quakebook fashion, he asked folks on Twitter what they wanted to know about the book, and what surprised them about it. After sifting through the best and most interesting input, here are Our Man’s answers to your questions:

http://www.timeout.jp/en/tokyo/feature/3286/Quakebook-The-Twinterview

“The keys to the printing press have been handed out to everybody.” Our Man in Abiko speaks to Radio Australia’s Connect Asia about the creation of Quakebook, and the growing journalistic relevance of social media:

http://www.radioaustralia.net.au/connectasia/stories/201105/s3218011.htm

It was when I had
Just got home early from work,
My old man saying

Japan’s getting it I turned
Around to watch the box and

It was getting it
The pictures were live how strange
I thought watching it

Where this grey mouthed alien
Was now swallowing Japan

In real time I thought
To myself it’s like Manga
But that wasn’t smart

Or funny to say it out
Loud with no more Samurai

Boats were just too small
To resist and I thought of
All those pretty prints

That huge wave with its white curls
Striated and blue lines you know

The great Tsunami
Kanagawa, Hokusai
Such a rare view point

Not a wide mouthed Animé
Nightmare consuming

I saw the good news
A dog rescued from a roof
Radiation free

But now the days pass
Water claims a victory
Over man’s progress

I’m finding it hard to write
Or even mention the theft

Of whole villages
The thousands of lives stolen
How can I say this

Daring to whisper of those
Traces, once upon a time

There’s poison settling
But I hear its safe for now
No snow for children to play

There’s this shaded emptiness
Over the ants that scurry.

Text: © J. L. Nash, 2011

Submitted by: Jane Nash
Originally published in The Pandorian

Two hundred sixteen sheets
of printer paper plaster

the public gymnasium’s walls.
Some number command many

other eyes elsewhere in the shelter,
every scrap a make-shift of details

of what you cannot hold:
height weight gender hair length

last place seen last time seen
blurring in the blanks

of the roster checked
and checked and checked again.

Not to find a name is not to find nothing.

In the golden tallgrass on a hillock
outside town, soldiers prod and poke

with long, thin diviners’ rods
as snow freshens pines capped off

with fishers’ nets. They gather
and tag the morning’s remains.

Submitted by: Maureen E. Doallas
© 2011 Maureen E. Doallas