Catalogues and Clawing Upwards

These days, work and bedrotting with YouTube have kept me away from some social media platforms but I continue to lurk in these spaces. Getting back to writing and reading is still as hard as ever, an extension of the quasi-slump that set in during the lockdown years.

Hence, I don't feel the need to explain myself as much or make excuses for my extended neglect of this space. The past few years have taken their toll and for some, getting back to normal has proven far more difficult, if at all. Can thing truly return to normal after such eventful years?

Nevertheless, I'd like to think I'm making steps towards revitalising the blog, keeping the focus mainly on books, with whatever else that piques me in between.

Though, with the proliferation of large-language models and generative AI, one is skittish of putting craft out there, wondering if it'll get scraped eventually. "Publish and be damned" needs to be revised for this century.

Of late, I've been playing with a book-cataloguing app. After buying two copies of the same book twice within a couple of months, I pondered putting all my books – at least, those I plan to keep long-term – in a database of sorts to prevent a repeat. Books cost more now and one has to be careful.

Until I started manually keying in entries into a text file – and not getting far – using an app for the job never occured to me. I mulled over several choices before settling on Libib. I don't want to rely on the app entirely. I just need something to create a data set I can export to an editable file format to tinker with, as a back-up.

Libib has its limitations: basic Libib has a 5,000-item limit (gotta pay for more capacity), it doesn't always extract the right data or covers, it crashes occasionally, and the barcode scanning isn't foolproof – more on that later.

Nor can I can't edit certain fields for scanned items, though you can fill in all fields for manually keyed-in records. This is one limitation with basic Libib, it seems, and finding that out takes a bit of digging on the web version's support section. The work involved feels like part of my day job but it's peanuts compared to the app's kinks.

Also, Libib doesn't seem to verify whether an ISBN is already scanned or stored in a catalogue. I tried scanning an existing book and it was treated like a new title, not another copy of the one with the same ISBN. Does it have anything to do with me changing the data set settings? That doesn't sound acceptable. Libib also allows you to rate and review books, though it'll be a long while before I get to that.

All these aside, the app does the job. I have to log in to the web version of the app to export the data set but editing entries on the laptop feels more natural and easier, especially when looking up details of titles, tidying up synopses and updating cover images. Like part of the day job. A while back, the mobile app helped to determine if I had a Carlos Ruiz Zafón novel at home. I did not, so into the shopping basket it went.

Libib can't catalogue all the publications I have, however. When I was an editor and doing book reviews I received several advanced reading copies, which have no barcodes to scan and are generally not catalogued online. ARCs of some titles can considered collector's items but not to me.

Also uncatalogue-able are the clutch of National Geographic and Off the Edge magazines I have. The former have no discernible barcodes and scanning the ones on the latter yielded no results. Chap books and art zines, well. But at least I have a catalogue of major items, including dictionaries, a thesaurus, and writing and editing guides.

Starting this catalogue has accorded my book browsing and buying habit a certain gravitas. Some days I feel like the curator of a museum. Seeing my collection on screen hits a little different, though it looks a bit better on mobil. Books, however, are meant to be read and I'll get around to that – eventually.

Chicken Chop Commotion

On social media, a chicken chop café is causing a tiny stir with its list of conditions. Only open for lunch, 11 a.m. to 2 p.m. or until sold out. Only a hundred chops sold each day. Dine-in only, no takeaways, no food delivery. Days open: check social media. Arrangements sbject to change.

The reception has been mixed. Some seem fine with it, while several balked at the rules. What is so special about this shop that warrants all these restrictions? It's like they don't want to do business. So action! They're not even a fine dining place!

I have mixed feelings as well but the main emotion is amusement. In Malaysia, culinary mecca and home of gourmands, one shouldn't be surprised that even a chicken chop shop has its own house rules. I've seen a char koay teow stall with three rules regarding who NOT to sell to, though I suspect it's mostly a marketing gimmick. Could this be the same for the chicken chop shop? Some would think so, but that's probably a tiny part of the story.


Pandemic pressures
I have a small personal connection with this place. A while after it first opened, I was introduced to and then reviewed it for an online news portal. Back then, it sold a bit more than just chicken chop. The owner tried ways and means to bring in more business but results seemed to fall short. There were other woes as well, as the food business is tough.

Then COVID-19 dropped. When the lockdowns started I stopped going around my usual food haunts, so I wasn't sure what happened to the place. Eventually I learnt they were still operating albeit with restrictions, same as many mom-and-pops. While the MCOs are merely a memory by now, they took their toll. Some businesses folded while other soldiered on, weary from the SOPs and changes caused by the economy then and shifting dining habits.

At some point, the café trimmed its menu, trimmed its staff, rebranded itself as That Chicken Chop Shop on Facebook and put all those rules in place. The self-imposed limits sound extreme. What is the point of a café that only sold a hundred of its main dish for a short session each day?


Staying afloat
The whole set-up seems calculated, but not without reason. Keeping a shop open for a whole day exacts its own toll. Foot traffic is unpredictable and the power has to keep going throughout the day. Good days can be few and far between. What happens to unsold stock and how long should they keep it before having to throw it out? What about staff turnover and salaries? These were issues even before the pandemic.

If who walks in can't be managed, then focus on how the café is run. Fixing the number of items sold makes for easier logistics planning, ensures food sold is fresh and there's less need – or no need – to keep unused ingredients.

Other aspects of the business can be scaled down from there. The owner's wife cooks while the owner manages the customers. This focuses the quality control to single points; where food and service are concerned, the buck stops with the owners, so they better be on top of their game.

Everything else: clearing tables, washing and cleaning up, and any task that needs less skill and training can be left to a helper. Even with high staff turnover in the food industry, this cuts down on the headaches that ensue when a worker decides to move on. Training new staff repeatedly is tiresome, especially when the owners are getting on in years. All so they can keep running for just a bit longer.


Customer, not king
For a bunch of self-professed food experts, certain Malaysians seem woefully ignorant of what goes on behind the scenes at the hottest and latest food haunts. Or do their appetites, curiosity and sense of adventure take precedence over everything else?

Years ago at an upmarket dessert café, a Malaysian Karen commented that she didn't feel safe there because it had foreign workers, who she thought brought the place's status to the level of a "wholesale Selayang market". Thank goodness the majority didn't feel that way.

The reason migrants are such an integral part of our F&B scene is because locals are too soft for the demands of the professional kitchen. They can up and quit mid-shift while migrants, with much fewer options, soldier on until they find greener pastures. Migrants didn't "take" those jobs from locals, they simply slid into unfilled niches.

What's funny is that traders at the real Selayang wholesale market told the media they can't get locals to do the work, and those who did "could not cope with the environment and workload, and most did not even last a day while the others left within hours of being hired."

This is not exclusive to us. Too many schools of thought have plenty to say about how to be a good food-and-beverage operator but not how to be a good customer. Contrary to that popular axiom, we are not kings. That goes straight into our heads and breeds expectations we shouldn't have, leading to things that shouldn't be said and done without considering facts, circumstances, and consequences.

I learnt lessons in writing critiques – some of them the hard way. Whether you're deliriously joyful or seething with rage, those emotions blind you to the other side of the story. After some consideration, the thoughts that follow are often not worth expressing, however valid they may feel at the time. Criticising is easy and low-risk – but are you trying to help or do you just want people to know you had a bad day?


Unwritten rules
Even if food places have no house rules, there are rules one should follow when patronising them. Be polite. Long queue? Be patient. Don't be an ass. Malaysians are said to be courteous and we want to maintain that reputation. People raising Cain over The Chicken Chop Shop's rules seem to have forgotten that many places do not allow you to bring outside food to their premises OR use their washrooms if you're not a customer.

With so much on the plate of an F&B operator, having to deal with overbearingly entitled, narcissistic types should be among the least of their priorities. And they shouldn't have to apologise for sticking to SOPs they formulated to keep them sane and afloat.

When it seems so many establishments, not just F&B places, live and die by their reputations these days, an angry review or comment carries more weight than you think. If you're not vibing with the menu, the owner, or the place, go elsewhere. This food mecca of a country has many other spots that are also worth a try.

Changes, Coffee, and Cataracts

Been a long while. Perhaps there isn't much in my life since my last post that merits writing about or I may have outgrown the need to write like I used to. Or do I just don't have the energy any more? Maybe, it's all of the above?

Regardless, I feel like I'm doing myself an injustice if I don't put things down because a fair bit has happened between then and now.


New office, new environment
Early this year I've been moved to another office though my duties and office hours haven't changed. Location, The Exchange TRX. I once dreamed of working at a bookstore and that dream has been realised. I'm not directly involved in bookselling but if there's an opportunity to pitch something, I'm good.

The new posting has me commuting to work via LRT and MRT and the adjustment was a bit difficult for the first week. Sharing space with crowds is draining, and though we're not yet over COVID, another contagion has recently reared its ugly head. Helps that I've continued to mask in public spaces, except when eating or drinking, but I despair at the number who have yet to take the latest potential outbreak seriously.

However, I do miss having certain banking and postal services within reach. And I miss being a regular at a handful of restaurants and drink trucks in the area. The kopi-C at the new place doesn't kick the same. Visitors, under any circumstance avoid whatever passes for kopi-C at the food court. I'm sure the staff are nice hard-working people but the coffee is awful, even if it kicks... albeit in a different way.

Nevertheless, I save enough from not having to drive and park – go, My50 RapidPass! – but all that typically goes to food – still a huge weakness. I typically take my meals at the food court and a favourite destination is the nasi padang kiosk which gives discretionary discounts according to portion size, though not always. The chilli-fried potato wedges with spicy gravy, magnificent. After-lunch dessert is often kuih at any of the kopitiam-style establishments around the area plus iced kopi. Slightly cheaper eats can be had outside the mall but I'm comfortable where I am now.

Any savings have also been offset by too-frequent book-buying. I've been taking advantage of staff discounts (can I mention this?) to pick up any remotely interesting titles, even if I don't plan on reading them immediately. Shortly after my new posting, I had nearly settled my home loan and the exhilaration from that freedom plus the mental shift from lockdown mode drove me book-mad. I've been making up for lost time for about two years but the past few months have been serious. And there may be another factor…


Man at fifty goes for cataract surgery
Towards the end of last year my vision began to blur subtly. Closing one eye after another revealed that one eye had clouded over. But it was several weeks later when I went to my regular ophthalmologist that confirmed that eye had developed cataracts. The guy was startled. Cataracts, at my age? Too soon! While there was no rush, I felt something had to be done.

How's it like to have cataracts? When it's in one eye, the other does the heavy lifting though vision isn't sharp, and I'm nearsighted by default. I could still see but when I announced my intent to drive home for Chinese New Year, I got an earful. My parents and several relatives have been treated for cataracts and they were free with advice on what to do and avoid. Still, I was apprehensive about the surgery and any complications. I eventually went under the knife on a Friday.

Credit goes to the surgeon who's also my ophthalmologist and the anaesthetist though the latter complicated matters a little by insisting that I obtain a letter from an upper respiratory specialist due to my asthma and my request to be put under. While the examination was hitch-free and the letter dispatched, the anaesthetist decided to opt for sedation instead – less trouble and fewer side effects – and it turned out to be a better decision.

The drugs pumped into me may be one reason I can't remember what happened during surgery, which went smoothly – yay for retrograde amnesia. I was sent home with some eye drops, a list of things to note post-surgery, and an appointment to see the ophthalmologist the next day. From that examination, my binocular vision was now 20/20 though not what I would call sharp. Stairs would be a problem and I don't feel I could go back behind the wheel.

The eye, now fitted with a new lens, was no longer clouded. Am I allowed to also thank my company's insurance provider and the eye centre for arranging things behind the scenes and alleviating my anxiety? It helps a ton, considering the state of healthcare in the country.

A bonus from having to get my airway examined was a recommendation to use a sinus rinse, which has done wonders for my nose once I got over the fear of introducing bacteria into my brain through my nostrils. The effects last for days; slightly less after some time in public. Water does get stuck in my screwed-up sinuses for a bit but the pros win out. I won't be doing any rinsing until I get the okay from the ophthalmologist who I'll be seeing again this coming Saturday.

I'm also at risk of developing glaucoma but that's for another day – the ophthalmologist is supposed to be a glaucoma specialist as well, so I should be covered. Maybe this is another reason I've been buying more books than I should, to distract from my ageing and burgeoning eye problems. Maybe that growing stack assures me that I'll have something to go back to after surgery, that things will return to normal.

But you know, I doubt they will.


The fear of going blind crops up now and then since I learnt of my susceptibility to glaucoma, prompting me to wonder if I didn't put enough effort to see all the world has to offer, if I hadn't made the most of my time with sight by gorging on every vista, portrait, every line of prose. However, I'm old enough to recognise that this is not a personal failing as long as you believe you've seen and done enough thus far. Some sights you have the (mis)fortune to see, others are perhaps better left unseen.

For now, I'll strive to make the most of what little time I have left with sight. That to-be-read pile won't read itself. So many new books to explore, so much talent waiting in the wings, so much history yet to unfold. Who could close their eyes on all that?

Samurai Shenanigans

A retired swordsman, his son, and a swordswoman unravel plots and solve crimes
in feudal Japan


Lately, you may have encountered and tried to look up the provenance of a translated novel called "Samurai Tanteidan" by award-winning Japanese author Shotaro Ikenami. If you couldn't, it's because the original title is Kenkaku Shobai ("Swordsman Business"), which was serialised in the monthly magazine Shosetsu Shincho between 1972 and 1989 and is one of many historical novels by Ikenami.

This modern translation is titled The Samurai Detectives and, like the original, follows a father and son as they navigate the way of the sword during the Tokugawa shogunate, though it's the son who does more navigating than the dad who, when the story begins, has ostensibly laid down arms to live a life of leisure.


Read the rest of this review here.

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The Samurai Detectives (Vol. 1)

Shotaro Ikenami (translated by Yui Kajita)
Penguin UK
272 pages
Fiction
ISBN: 9781405975766

A Heady Broth

This family tale is a gold-star recipe


Wherever they go, at some point Malaysians tend to reminisce of home: the culture, the camaraderie, and the food. The farther the distance and the longer the absence, the more rose-tinted those memories become.

That food has become our refuge from the harshness of life is perhaps no exaggeration. There's a certain romance in our enjoyment and recollections of it: from our daily meals, childhood favourites, or that one unforgettable taste of a hawker-stall wonder that, with time, becomes as venerated as the Holy Grail.


Go here for the whole review.

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Early Mornings at the Laksa Café

Janet Tay
Vintage UK
352 pages
Fiction
ISBN: 9781787305304

The Power Of Second Chances

Restore your faith in community with this tale of a neighbourhood convenience store


Anyone who's in a reading slump should try at least one of the growing collection of healing titles out there. Pithy, packed with feel-good vibes, and small enough to be finished in one sitting, these novels - most of which are translated works from Korean or Japanese - can eb helpful in easing one back into regular reading. With few clues as to a slowdown in new releases, at least for now, one is also not starved for choice.

Some may decry how formulaic such books are, but one thing about that is how reliable they are, like a much0-needed pick-me-up from a convenience store. Which is why Kim Ho-yeon's The Second Chance Convenience Store may push you back to your cobwebbed TBR pile - and perhaps more.


The rest of the review can be found here.

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The Second Chance Convenience Store

Kim Ho-yeon (translated by Janet Hong)
Pan Macmillan
208 pages
Fiction
ISBN: 9781035032891

Book Marks: Writing Local, No More AP Book Reviews

If a story is good, does it matter where it's set? Italian author Vincenzo Latronico ponders developments in the local literature of other countries and begs the question - to me, at least: does local lit in non-anglophone countries need to be filtered through an anglo lens to make it relatable to a wider audience?

English translations have made many non-anglo works accessible, but the aim is to carry over the original authors' vision and message, baggage and all, to the reading public. Latronico seems to suggest that reworking local works through an anglo press strips them of everything that makes them "local", and I tend to agree. Such decisions are determined by saleability and if it doesn't jive with the majority being sold to, "it won't sell".

Bibi Bakare-Yusuf, co-founder and publishing director of Cassava Republic Press in Nigeria, appears to be musing over what's "local" in this piece on how African publishing could reclaim that word. I also like this point, which echoes a little of what Latronico was saying: "For African publishers, 'connecting local writers to global audiences' shouldn't mean reinforcing a one-way flow of value, where legitimacy is bestowed elsewhere. That is not equity, but soft coloniality. Amplifying voices across geographies must preserve context, nuance, and political complexity. We are all rooted in a place before our ideas travel. The global is not neutral; it is the accumulation of many locals."

More works are coming out by authors beyond the anglosphere and kudos to translators who are bringing them to us while maintaining the original nuances and contexts. Readers are those who should make an effort to understand what they're reading – if there's no engagement with works, can it be called reading? Can we be called readers if all we do is suck content through our eyeballs into our brains without processing it?

Insisting on "local" content that has been retooled for easier consumption is like going to a foreign country and insisting on all the comforts from home. There's none of the discomfort, trepidation and girding of the loins when confronted with the new. Nor is there any of the wonder and jubilation of discovery. Many bookworms are armchair adventurers and would prefer to have the thrill of finding and figuring out stuff every time they turn the pages.

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The Associated Press announced that it's stopping its weekly book reviews. "This was a difficult decision but one made after a thorough review of AP’s story offerings and what is being most read on our website and mobile apps as well as what customers are using," the statement reads. "Unfortunately, the audience for book reviews is relatively low and we can no longer sustain the time it takes to plan, coordinate, write and edit reviews." AP will still be covering books but the reporting will be handled by its staffers.

This decision will not be good for small newspapers because "historically, AP arts coverage has been particularly important because smaller and local papers tend to syndicate AP reviews, which are written for a wide, non-partisan audience. Absent their standard blurbs, smaller outlets that can't afford to staff a books section may be forced to stop circulating literary news full stop."


Sobering. All right then...

• Back when it first launched, crowdfunded publisher Unbound was a novel idea that started off quite well. So it was a shock to learn that it was going to fold and owed authors money. How did things go wrong?
• Some might be ready to move on from Dr Seuss as a cultural ambassador for children's literature, others might hesitate. New generations will grow up with less and less exposure to the Grinch and the Cat in the Hat, and Seuss — and also Dahl — isn't the only iconic children's author out there. And do we need one anyway, when it might make kids reluctant to read beyond the well-known and much-talked-about marquee names?
• Books about Kashmir have been banned in India and Kashmiri bookshops have been raided for "secessionist" material. Not a new development, but it appears to be part of a wider trend of growing suppression of free speech and criticism worldwide.
• "Boasting 125,000 followers on Instagram, Revolving Books has established itself as a trusted curator of both fiction and non-fiction for readers across the U.S. It capitalized on a growing community of online readers, and slid neatly into an underfilled niche — making high-quality, hard-to-find secondhand books available to the masses for a reasonable price." Don't you wish your hobby would blow up like Austen Baack's has?
• The longlisting of controversial author John Boyne's novella, Earth, for an award for LGBTQ+ literature, compelled ten authors to withdraw from the awards. "Two judges have also withdrawn from the prize process, and more than 800 writers and publishing industry workers have signed a statement calling on Polari to formally remove Boyne from the longlist," The Guardian reports. This was how many learnt that Boyne declared himself a trans-exclusionary radical feminist (TERF) – as if more reasons to think twice about reading him are needed.
• "There is clearly a thriving market for this particular blend of nature writing, personal memoir and a specific form of self-help in which the embattled individual – or in the case of The Salt Path, a couple – finds solace, sustenance and even redemption by withdrawing from everyday society and launching themselves into the great outdoors," writes Alex Clark in The Guardian. But what damage, if any, has The Salt Path done to the nature memoir?

Wrapping things up are, first, the release of Kenangan Luka, the Malay translation of Sybil Kathigasu's memoir, No Dram of Mercy. Translated by Fahmi Mustaffa, the memoir "was published with the support of the Perak Heritage Society, a local NGO advocating for the preservation of historical sites in Perak, including the former premises of Sybil Kathigasu's residence in Papan," Free Malaysia Today reported.

Second, is the longlisting of Tash Aw's The South for the 2025 Booker Prize. Previously longlisted were The Harmony Silk Factory in 2005 and Five Star Billionaire in 2013, back when it was called the Man Booker Prize. However, Malaysians may not get to read The South. Someone raised a stink over a scene in the book and I heard that Kinokuniya KLCC was visited by the authorities. The novel, as far as I know, is no longer on sale in Malaysian bookstores. Nevertheless, we wish Aw and his novel the best – third time's the charm, aye?