In this article, I examine the deployment of poetry in Taiwanese practices of calculating fate. Observing that fate is both a grounding notion to self-representation in narrative and to the recognition of efficacious agents in a social field, I analyze texts and interpretive practices of poetic divination, attending to specific features that give fate its compelling qualities. Most important among these features is the chronotopic character of divination poems, which shape the experience of selfhood in alternation and encounter through time. Investigating how poetic contrast sets (such as those between gathering and dispersal, fate as coterminous with a lifespan and fate as linked to specific opportunities) produce these chronotopes, I ask how the poetics of fate informs the distribution and abeyance of agency in particular situations of crisis. In particular, I focus on crises that lead to divination, emerging as fresh junctures in life historical narratives. Finally, in light of the role of fate in the interpretation of these variously distributed junctures and agents, I suggest that the notion of fate could inform ethnographic work on micropolitics.[divination, poetics, chronotopes, narrativity, agency, life history, Taiwan] Fate and freedom are promised to each other. -Buber, / and Thou On the steps of Lokkang Longsan si (m: Lukang Longshan szu), A-Sian, a spirit medium in one of Lokkang's many neighborhood temples, told me a story about his first glimpse of the Longsan si temple. 1 The story was part of a larger narrative about his family's return to their hometown, following his father's 20-year sojourn in Kohiong (Kaohsiung), a major industrial city to the south, where A-Sian was born. The events occurred in 1977, when A-Sian was six: This place [Longsan si] has always given me a mysterious, sacred feeling. When my father brought us back here [to Lokkang], that evening, we came over here. In those days, the area in front of the temple was not all cleaned up like it is today. It was full of amusements and small stands. It was all very noisy and bustling [nao-jiat, m: re-nao\. When you would enter the gate, it was like going from a noisy market to a still place. And the eaves, although none of it was repaired yet, were so high and fantastically carved. Maybe this was because I was so small then. Thick clouds of incense twisted about the rafters, giving one the feeling of magical power [leng; m: ling]. In the market, my parents bought my brother and me balloons. My brother's was red and round. Mine was blue-green and long. Because we were mischievous kids, we got into a scuffle; and in the temple, I lost hold of my balloon. It floated high into the ceiling. I remember American Ethnologist 29(4):857-877.
american ethnologistit clearly there, the balloon floating up there amid the carved rafters, incense curling about them. That is when I began to think of Longsan si as efficacious.When I met A-Sian in 1993, he shared a wanderer's fate with his father. Whereas his parents remained in Lokkang, A-Sian lived betwe...