The Man Who Has Got Vestibular Disorder

(Vietnamese title: Người mắc chứng tiền đình, from the book "Dưới cột đèn rót một ấm trà" / "Next to the lamppost, pour a teapot" (Tre Publishing House, 2013)

The cover of the collection of my short stories in Vietnamese

The editors in Hanoi who remember the golden era of printed books there must know Lam. He used to be a famous editor who was extremely well-handled in serious themes of literature. But there was only one time, as Lam said, unexpectedly, he had a extremely tough manuscript. The matter started when his boss assigned him the manuscript about scholar Hoang Phong in order to publish a book which memorizes fortieth anniversary of the day he passed away. Lam disliked the historical genres, however, his boss insisted on doing this book. He said to Lam, “this is the political duty of our publishing house, so you have to take part. I know you have ever done some books like this before. I could not be sure if assigning this task to some young guys.”

The boss reassured Lam that this manuscript was a FAQ type with five hundred brief articles, “It is just easy to do. You will not have to do the hard work at all, but just check if its information is true as well as correct some spelling mistakes. The author has well experienced in his major, so no need to worry.”

The first step Lam had to do was going to meet the author to take his handwriting manuscript, then type it into a file for designing the printing layout. The boss sent Lam a message, “I  have already called to Mr. Luy. Should visit him in evening, he usually goes to the library to study all his daytime.”

The address, Lam needed to visit, belongs to an old domitory of ministerial office, which were waiting for clearance. He had been to such kind of old places to get the manuscripts. However, he still did not understand from where the authors can their inspiration when they look out of windows to see a messy of clothes hang rope, water buckets and water pipes?

Lam groped his way along the dark corridor to the flat at the end. He rose one hand between the iron bars of the front door, knocked onto the old faded green wooden door behind it. “Who’s there?” An old man had a frowned bony face appeared when door was opened. Lam told his name and the reason to come. The elder immediately changed his attitude, beamed with an excited voice, “Oh, Mr. Lam, Mr. Lam. Come in, come in. Please, please.”

The flat was ramshackle, its furniture were dusty. Lam sneezed. Because he did not bring his hankerchiefs, he used his forefinger to wipe his nose by stealth then intend to clean it over the side of his waist but Luy rose his hand to shake it. His cold, dry hand kneaded Lam’s forearms. “So kind. So kind. So young. So young.” Lam did not know if this man wanted to repeat his every words twice. Lam pulled his hand back, it’s still quite sticky. Mr. Luy had a wrinkled face and wore too formal for staying at home. He had a smelly breath.

The elder pointed at one pad of A4-size papers which is placed neatly on the table. “There, there. I had placed it already. Placed it already.”

 “Yes, let me bring home to read it then forward to my boss. Please sign the confirmation of transfer the document for me.”

 “No need, no need.”

 “You should sign it, please, according to the procedures.”

The elder carefully used a pen to sign the paper of confirmation which Lam had prepared. Lam said goodbye him, and the response still included two repeated phrases. “So you come home. So. You come home”. Suddenly, Lam thought it could not be a stutter because he made the punctuation very clearly.

**

The pad of manuscript in which Lam expected that each article was just about half-page in fact took two pages. No wonder why it was so thick. Thousand sheets of paper. Two full packs of A4 paper. Its content was exactly the same as the political propaganda lectures with the so obvious frequently asked questions which readers do not have any answer but agree with that totally. “The young Phong was born in a family which has a patriotic tradition from thousand years…” Lam chuckled, crossed the words “tradition” and “from thousand years” out. If everywhere was such wildly exaggerated like that, it would be so shitty. Lam clucked, thought, ‘oh well, if the boss wanted to do quickly, I should follow that way to shorten it’.

Of course Lam didn’t waste his time to read that hand-writing manuscript. He hired a person who retype it into a file as well as ordered a painter to design the cover, then started editing the content. It turned out that the phrases such as “from thousand years” had been spread out in the manuscript, but after hours of working with  them, Lam did not feel silly anymore. He even felt good like a hard-working gardener who just expected to see a decaying leave to make the work was not so boring. Lam quite satisfied with himself when reducing the content to around seven hundred pages, making each article be a page and a half. “Of course, it will be cut more, also should save some parts for the boss’ cutting’, he told himself when handed over the edited draft to the head of editing board.

Lam treated himself with three off-work days in a trip with a group of his friends to Moc Chau for photographing the rapeseed flowers. In the middle of cheerful party at his relaxing place, the boss’ call turned everything off. “What the hell have you done? Come back, come back. Too bad. Too bad.” Lam did not know whether his boss had been affected the syndrome of repeating every words twice by Mr. Luy.

The manuscript after editing had a density of comments and notes by the boss. “Exactly the same as page 72 of the book The Celebrity of Thanh Province”, “Not a single comma different to the article about Truong Hoang Phong in the book The Collection of the North Central Area Literature”… Lam could not say any word but was so threatened by the thought of why he had cut and mixed the content so carefully like a woman with her totally new face after plastic surgery, the boss still tracked the original content like the husband know the awful truth about his wife.

 “You are an editor, you must know those original books, huh? Two third of this one is plagiarism. Too bad.”

 “I read the books but too long ago, none of them are my major subjects neither. Also you said that we have just need to do a little correction…”

The boss gave Lam an eyesight then looked down the manuscript. “What I said is under the general policy. You as an editor, still need be as sober as a judge and more adventurous.” As sober as a judge? Adventurous? Lam intended to reply him angrily but gave up. Anyway his boss was sitting at the leader’s chair whose was responsible for publishing content, so obvious that he would not let Lam do the job carelessly.

 “I think if it is too bad we should stop.” Lam stepped in. “It may be worse when would ruin the reputation of our company.”

 “No! We still do it. Even it has the drawback as said, but the good is his labor of collecting the data. People are very interested in this book, because around this anniversary they haven’t seen any publishing house prepares to launch a book about Truong Hoang Phong yet. We print books with a tactic, you understand, don’t you?”

People means who, Lam knew what his boss referred but when thinking about the way to correct the manuscript, he felt very upset. Perhaps understood Lam’s hesitation, his boss explained further. “Do you understand my meaning of being adventurous? You should use your talent same as what you have done with the last books, you should add the graphics, statistic data, references, rewrite the subtitles, and make the layout more lively. I believe that you are too good to solve it. Let’s go back your room to do again, chop-chop, go.”

Now, how to say to Mr. Luy remained a much more tired matter to Lam. With a respectful person at the same age as Lam’s parents, the issue of changing the integrity of Mr. Luy’s work was not easy at all, even worse, explaining him why it has to cut down so much. Lam had prepared himself for the worst case.

The first step needed to be done was how to call Mr. Luy. Lam could not call him or meet him at any try. His flat was locked since a week ago.

**

Lam hold his breath when walking into the hall of the library reading room. The high pillars supporting the ceiling dome did more enhancing the stressfulness of the atmosphere. The librarian, who had a bothersome face, put Lam’s membership card into check-in machine before returned it back to him. Suddenly, Lam’s cellphone rang. The librarian scowled at him. Lam rushed to open the door, stepped out, then closed the door very quickly and as quietest as possible but it still made a creak due to the rusty hinge. Lam took the cellphone out of his pocket, his face was flushed, he could fell the librarian’s angry stare like an arrow pierced the back of his neck. Lam’s boss just called again and reminded him that he had to discuss with Mr. Luy very carefully, in order to keep only the good evidences.

Lam turned off the cellphone’s voice carefully, then pushed quietly the door. He has hold the breath even harder this time. But the librarian seemed not to remember the previous impolite noise, she was reading something disinterestedly on the computer’s screen.

The stressfulness of Lam turned out unnecessary. Recently, Mr. Luy’s flat was running out of clean water, so he moved to his brother’s home. And the library was nearly the place where he spent his all day. Lam invited him went to the café behind the library. The elder did not order anything but pulled out a small military water bottle and slightly put it on the table in the surprise of both Lam and the waitress. She turned away very quickly, wagged the order papers with a smirk.

Mr. Luy nodded when listening to Lam’s explanation of cutting the length of manuscript. Then Luy said, still in the pace of repeated phrase twice. “Yes, you please modify. Whatever for the most brief. Whatever for the most brief. Then be OK.”

This time his words had been added a couple of phrases, it seemed an effort to change information. His corporative attitude was so doubtfully flexible made Lam has some  precautions. “The matter is, my company intends to add  some graphics representing the life route of Mr. Hoang Phong. By doing that, it helps the young readers could approach your writing content more easily. I will send you the draft before putting in the final one.”

 “Perfect. Perfect.”

Why he was so easygoing. With what just gained, Lam stepped up further. “We want you to make a bibliography. Surely you have referred many historical documents. There are some paraphrases that are similar to some previous printed books.”

 “Nah! I don’t need refer to anything. All is in my mind. Had accumulated for decades.” Mr. Luy changed his voice’s tone into acid way.

Oh, it turned out that he had stuttered just only when agreeing. Lam sniggered, “Not a big deal.”

 “Research books which have the bibliography are also better. If we have the source of evidence which are appropriately trustful, you will only get more benefits. That is my opinion of editing. You should consider.” Lam said with a cold voice, tried to make a signal in order to let the elder understand.

 “I… I, I don’t agree with putting the blame on me from you…”

So ridiculous. Lam shot the last goal. “We had invited Professor Vo Trinh to expertise it and write the introduction, you know.”

Vo Trinh was the student of Hoang Phong, he was recognised as the successor on the career of this scholar. Lam’s last words seemed effective. Luy’s face chilled out, his lower lip shook. He was not a kind of typical conservative person that is easy predictable. Perhaps he understood his condition quiet well, so he softly answered. “Oh, Mr. Trinh. Too excellent, too excellent. Yes, about the book I just said so. Just said so. Of course I know it must have the editing. Editing is necessary. Necessary. Birth attendant. Birth attendant.”

So two “sides” went to agreement that the author would have corrected himself where were edited, then Lam would receive the final. When he left, Tran Luy hold his hand, shook it. The cold feeling liked a dead body. Lam pulled his hand back, wished him gave up sooner.

**

Lam’s boss was very satisfied with the arrangement Lam manage to get. After over a week of working all day and night to exhaust, the final version came to finish neatly. The next step was asking Prof. Vo Trinh write the introduction for it. While he was over ninety year ago, it’s quite difficult to meet him, even more difficult to ask him to write anything. However, with a miracle help that always happened unexpectedly in Vietnam, thanks for an old schoolmate, Lam’s boss hooked up with the professor’s son and got the introduction two weeks later, right on time to print. Glancing over it, Lam felt nothing impressive, it seemed the author of the introduction wrote a piece of memoir about past time which was published somewhere, and not even being relevant to the book. But when it’s in so emergency situation, he was reluctant to transfer the file to the printing house. Anyway at last he could treat himself a relaxation.

One night, Lam had his eyestrain after reading the another manuscript on the laptop screen. He closed it and went to bed. His neck was stiff because of sitting too long. Just put his head on the pillow, his mind was reeling, his eyes were dizzy like just was hit on the temples. All his body liked in a bad game of inversion that could not be stopped. Lam tried not to scream, while a wave of nausea swept over his throat.

Doctor quickly had conclusion that Lam had got vestibular disorder due to degenerative cervival spine. “Having the symptom of stroke.” The disease was not strange but Lam did not expect it to come so soon. He wondered whether it came from the stress after he edited the last book. His annual leave eventually became a convalescence. Lam was isolated from laptop as well as cellphone. Books were obviously banned. After two days, Lam was so bored, sought the cellphone by stealth. Caught by the wife, she nagged him. “Do you want to live as usual, huh?” Lam felt annoyed, but also thought that there was nothing except some bullshit emails or messages, then he gave up.

The drugs by prescription were quite effective. On the one hand, they inhibited the nerve impulses that made him calmer. On the other hand, Lam felt himself move more slowly.

Three days after sending compliment books to Vo Trinh, Lam received a phone call. Extremely bad news. It turned out that the book had so many mistakes about time and people. The professor insisted on disagreement of publishing the book. His boss swore loudly. It was clear that the professor’s son had promised to forward the manuscript to him. So what did that introduction aim for? “By any chance was it not written by the professor?” Lam asked. The boss was frustrated, kicked the chair down noisily. Lam thought, it’s lucky when the boss did that task by himself, otherwise he would be blamed on it unhappily. Contrast to his usual sensitiveness, at the present Lam’s feeling was just stable. He was also surprised about this weird stability, perhaps thanks to medicine.

As been released from tons of stone, Lam was so happy when the boss took responsible for bearing burden of solving the “after show party” of the book. The boss’ traditional way was sentimental and thorough, put the “people” factor on top of everything same as his message at the meetings with partners as well as authors.

Although Lam had known his boss’ super ability of well-mouth, he wasn’t surprised when the boss called him to tell about the reaction of Tran Luy. That old man blamed him and the publishing house for interventing in the manuscript. The boss’s voice sounded quite resentive, “You prepare the manuscript which has the confirmed signature of that old bitch. Hey Lam, I don’t expected him could treat us that way. Without us, his manuscript was never so decent like that.” His voice was somewhat a bit out of tune. Lam thought, his boss said that he unexpected at the present, why the boss did not listen to his persuading of not continuing this manuscript. Simply, his boss was also achievement addicted.

As a result, a trilateral talk was carried out at the residence of Vo Trinh. It’s the first time Lam met Vo Trinh in person.

He has a saggy face with the tiny eyes did not express any clear feeling. Only his white wavy  hair was lively exactly as what Lam had seen on the pictures or TV. The daughter was next to him, this woman had a thin face with dry lips. As a habit, she lifted her pair of eyeglass, put the note-book on her lap, holding the pen in hand as standby firing guns. Five people sit around the table, under pallid light of the lamp, and between all the old bookshelves, it looked like a scene of a Dutch Renaissance painting. Tran Luy never looked at Lam anytime, he subserviently sat a bit behind Vo Trinh. Lam stared at him attentively, just found his boss to be reasonable when choosing Tran Luy’s manuscript. Suddenly, Lam felt so fed up.

After the overture full of politeness of Lam’s boss, Vo Trinh recognized Tran Luy was restless. He blinked, said quietly. “Mr. Luy, say it.” Unlike the dilatory stutter as previously, Tran Luy said without any stumble as he had prepared well before. When he said, “The publishing house has to be responsible for repairing and reprinting the book”, Lam interrupted, “But you, you had…” His boss pulled Lam’s arm in a hurry and jumped in. “Yes, I absolutely understand the problem that the book remains controversial. However, I would like to get your opinion, Professor.”

Vo Trinh’s voice was low but quite clear with a cold tone. After giving some appraisals to encourage the author’s skillfulness, he said, “I said like that not to put you guys into bad condition. However, for the safety, sorry, the perfection of the book as well as being retorted by no one, you must reprint it.”

 “Yes, that’s right.” Tran Luy’s accompanied voice was very ridiculous.

While sitting inside the taxi, the boss sighed deeply. “Hundred millions dong threw away for nothing. You are the editor, you have to be responsible for finding the way sell it and draw back the money invested.”  Lam pretended to hear nothing, his eyes closed.

**

Two months since the book was printed, still two third of the copies were in stock. The signs from bookstores were not positive either. Meanwhile, the feedbacks of newspapers, which said about this new style biography book, were not different from the press release that Lam had penned very detailed with the careful approval of his boss. It meant hard to lost the direction and policy. It was regarded as a sort of propaganda book which is hard sold like all books in the same genre. So nobody felt too pessimistic.

Lam’s vestibular disorder didn’t happen anymore, only issue is that his reactions were not fast enough. Sometimes, he felt himself in a slow motion.

Every night, Lam was forced to go to bed early. His wife confiscated his cellphone, allowed him to use it only eight hours in daytime.

One midnight, his fix line rang noisily. His wife answered the call, she hold the phone then woke him up. She covered the speaker, said to him. “You boss. What the hell is that ridiculous office calling at the midnight!” Lam did not mind her crumbling, picked up the phone.

 “I have to go, the boss called that there were works to do in the office.”

 “Are you insane? Ignore him, even if who died, let it be tomorrow. You must take care of yourself.”

Skipped her crumbling, Lam took the motorbike driving out of the house.

Lam did not dare to tell his wife where he would meet the boss. At first, he also did not understand why his boss told him go to the karaoke shop, although he knew the boss love relaxation of singing. However, it’s rather weird for cheering when the sales of books had slumped.

Lam was too surprised when seeing his boss sat drunkenly with a cognac bottle. He sat alone in the karaoke room. The screen showed up the lyrics of a depressing love song. Portrait the lover on the beach… “Sit. Sing. Drink. Hey Lam,” he said.

Lam did not know how to ask him, and the music was too loud. The boss push on the remote controller to play the next song. “Sing.” The boss put the microphone on Lam’s hand. Reluctantly, he sang.

 “You sing well. But must sing with all your heart. And stand up to sing.”

After drinking a half of cognac bottle, the boss questioned him, “How do you think about that scandal?”

Recognising the bewildered look on Lam’s face, his boss got angry. “What the heck did you do at home today?”

It was revealed that at the end of today, there’s online article mentioned about some books which violated the publishing rules. According to that article, the book about Truong Hoang Phong by Tran Luy although did not have any mistake on the content but used some non-official references. The conclusion of the article included a statement of an administrative official saying, “If those books had the signs of violation, they must be withdrawn.”

Lam read the news on the smartphone of his boss, then he was stunned. Last glasses of cognac made him could not think coherently. “So… is there any problem, boss?”

The boss just smiled mysteriously, he put the smartphone back on his trouser’s pocket. “Let it be. Just drink then go home.”

Accidentally, everywhere they said about the book. An e-newspaper published the statement of Tran Luy in which he had blamed to the negligent working procedure of the publishing house as well as the editor It seemed there was being a dethroned campaign towards the pubsling house, paralleling with a wave of supporting it as a brave company, or a victim of the plagiarism method on researches which had happened for years. No matter what, the book was sold-out so quickly, even there were the fake copies.

The book eventually proved the boss was right. Although Lam found it was so boring that he never introduced to his friends, it received a prize from on association of historical research and one prize of ‘the book of the year’. Tran Luy also was regarded as a significant researcher, even some papers called him as a ‘Hoang Phongism expert”. However, recently people often saw him groping along the sidewalk of the national library, his hand clung to the iron bars of its fence with inanimated widened eyes.

The book also ended Lam’s editing career. They did not see him sit musingly beside the piles of manuscripts any more. He often went travelling around the mountainous provinces or went abroad. Just last week, in a very first day of year, I met him in a café, and had him tell the above story. His fingers which used to touch numerous of manuscript pages, now holding the camera so professional. “Nowadays those scandals are to familiar with the pop celebrities. You think my boss made it up but I don’t. That guy was such a coward,” he said. He does not looks like a man who had the symptom of stroke, he smiled a smoky smile, winked his perky eyes, “My time is over. You are deserved the title ‘the people’s editor’. You publish essays frequently, so must bring me some your new books!”

(c) Nguyễn Trương Quý