Don't Fling Stones At This Joint

first published in The Malay Mail Online, 27 May 2015


♪ Flingstones, eat at Flingstones, Subang Jaya's modern hip café
Right in SS15, loads of porky goodness done their way... ♫

...Sorry.

I'd heard about this place that offers, among other things, an aglio olio-style pasta with bacon and crispy bits of fried pork lard ("NOOOOO", shrieked my liver). But makan kaki Melody was in another state, celebrating a new career milestone, and I had no excuse to go there on my own.

One evening, outside Flingstones Café

Then I received an invitation to lunch at Flingstones from Mel's buddies, Wendy and Sam.

Located along Jalan SS 15/8, on the same row as Starbucks and situated across Taylor's College, the café doesn't quite stand out (it was something else when Google Street View passed by). But once you step inside...

...not much stands out, either.

Well, perhaps for the names of some of their offerings, which say nothing about what's in them at all. Have fun figuring out why "Snow White is a Nutcase", whether you want "One Night with Cendolman", and ... why is a Michael Jackson song and an English rock band on the menu?

Just a small sample of Flingstones' brand of whimsy

I admit, it made us curious.

None of us wanted crispy pork lard, so we settled for the Oink-Oink Ribs, while Sam had "One Night with Cendolman" and a Gula Melaka Latté, followed by a BLT sandwich.

"Cendolman" turned out to be a cake with layers of pandan sponge, gula melaka-infused sago pearls and coconut cream, topped with gula melaka jelly, that evokes memories of the cooling traditional streetside treat.

"One Night with Cendolman", a slice of Malaysia in a cake

Sam didn't fancy her beverage, though. Coffee and gula melaka both have this smoky, earthy thing going on and she couldn't get used to tasting both in the same cup. Plus, she thought it was too sweet. I had a sip and found it okay, but I'm partial to weird coffee drinks.

The ribs, tender and coated with a sweet and slightly sour plum sauce, were bone-sucking good. Perhaps too good, to the point where I injured my mouth trying to get at every last bit of sauce, after tearing off the tasty bits caveman style.

Not Flintstone-sized, but the sight, smell and taste of the Oink-Oink Ribs
will rouse the caveman in you

Sam also loved the battered and fried orange and purple sweet potatoes that came with the ribs - a welcome change from the sticky sweet-sour sauce on the ribs. However, we saw little difference between a half rack (which was more of a three-quarter rack) and a full rack. Was the chef in a good mood?

When I saw that Flingstones had the "Dirty", I knew what it was, having seen something similar offered elsewhere. Here, in a glass where the rim was powdered with cocoa, was a layer of espresso that would slowly meld with the cold milk it was sitting on, like a painting in progress. What wasn't welcome was the swirl of whipped cream on top. At least the coffee was good.

Partners in crime: the "Dirty" (left) and the "Smooth Criminal" (photo by
Wendy Lok). So, Annie, are they OK, are they OK, Annie? "I don't know, I'll
have to try them."

Time passed and we had a ball shooting the breeze, but I felt the need for another beverage or something. "Hit me with a 'Smooth Criminal'," I told the cashier.

What came was an egg-sized scoop of vanilla ice cream in a glass, perched on a bed of grass jelly, and a tiny flask filled with espresso. Like the "Cendolman," the jelly provided that added texture to what would've been a run-of-the-mill affogato.

Chu yau char angel hair pasta: sinful as heck

Wendy loved everything. She's not picky. She said she'll return for the ribs.

Which she did one Saturday evening, and this time Melody was around for the ride.

As expected, the bacon and pork-lard angel hair pasta was great, but only if your thirst is the kind that only pig fat can slake.

Hidden inside the strands of well-lubricated pasta was one or two pieces of cili padi, so be careful.

In the end, all that's left on the plate was about a teaspoonful of pork-lard crisps, in spite of fears of growing waistlines and fat-smothered livers.

But it'll be a while before we'd miss this dish again.

Until then, we're eating clean. And fitness buff Sam gave me some kilo-shedding tips.

---

Flingstones Café

Jalan SS15/8
47500 Subang Jaya
Selangor

CLOSED FOR GOOD

In The Company of Good Food

first published in The Malay Mail Online, 18 May 2015


Famished after a day at work, I drifted past the different restos in Jaya Shopping Centre, finding nothing that caught my fancy.

Then I remembered a place on the fifth floor.

Good Food and Co. at Jaya Shopping Centre

Good Food and Co. was an unremarkable two-level café with and open kitchen and several desserts displayed on top of a chiller. A food blog waxed lyrical over the egg dishes, and I'd begun turning to eggs for a pick-me-up.

That was way back when. Several dishes the food blog mentioned were no longer available. One of the first things I tried was the shakshouka, an egg poached in an earthenware dish of spicy tomato-based vegetable stew. This was served with slices of crusty bread that's baked on the premises.

The shakshouka, Good Food and Co's go-to, must-try staple

Even without the optional merguez sausage, the shakshouka, said to be of either Middle Eastern or North African origin, made a hearty and healthy meal. Serious vegetarians can probably ask the chefs to omit the egg. Don't worry - the owners, head chef Jonathan and his wife Lydia, are nice and approachable.

So, on this fine day, I went up to Good Food and Co., who had just introduced a laksa pesto pasta with chicken. Since then, I've had it three times, and each tasted a little different as they tweaked the dish.

Laksa pesto chicken pasta - Malaysia on a plate, kind of

What hit me were the flavours, which tasted like they came from a Malay grandma's rural backyard garden. I imagined (you don't ask, okay?) laksa leaves, chilli, a bit of lemongrass, maybe torch ginger flower and peanuts, tossed with some fettuccine and well-marinated chicken. You also get lime wedges.

I had an ulam spaghetti somewhere a long while ago, and in hindsight, a pesto made out of herbs and condiments in laksa or nasi kerabu isn't all that far-fetched. But to actually come up with it...

Three times. Maybe there was a fourth. I stopped counting since the brain went over the laksa pesto cliff. Seems unfair to some of the other items on the menu that also look interesting.

Possibly among the best brownies you'll ever have in the Klang Valley

Since then, I introduced another makan kaki to this place while Melody was out of town. Irene's roast chicken, sitting on a puree of pumpkin with salad on the side was well made, as was my beef salami pasta with soft-boiled egg. A quirky touch was nesting the egg, still in the shell with the top taken off, upright in a bed of pasta.

I was not keen on dessert, but Irene sort of insisted. Her choice of a brownie with ice cream piqued my interest in the carrot cake, which I saw being iced with butter cream behind the counter by lady boss Lydia.

Homely home-baked carrot cake

Then again, the desserts, including the salted caramel cake and blueberry muffins, look so inviting, even with the uneven surfaces on the cakes and icing. Like the breads, some were baked within the premises.

Both were delightful, especially the brownie, which Irene said she would return for. Not a light endorsement from someone who surgically removes every bit of chopped green herb from her main courses before digging in.

Good Food and Co's fare is simple, unpretentious yet tasty. Just a few good ingredients, some technique and a lot of care, served in a homely setting.

Even their current weekday special: a rice-and-chicken dish with a sunny-side-up egg, is so well done, with moist and tender chicken.

And as the last mouthful finally, reluctantly, slides down your gullet, you can't help but wonder: what will they come up with next?

---

Good Food and Co.

Lot 5.02, Level 5, Jaya Shopping Centre
Jalan Semangat, Seksyen 14
46100 Petaling Jaya
Selangor

Pork-free

Mon-Sat: 11:30am-9pm
Sun: 12pm-9pm

+603 7931 5156

Web site | Facebook page

My Overseas Union (Coffee) Garden

first published in The Malay Mail Online, 24 February 2015


Last year, when makan kaki Melody pointed out that PJ Section 17's marquee café Butter+Beans was opening a chain in my neck of the woods (now you know where I live), such was my disbelief that I had to see it for myself.

Butter+Beans' new branch at Overseas Union Garden, saving my
fuel money for more coffee

I've been in and out of this steeped-to-the-roots Chinese neighbourhood for years and I never thought Third Wave coffee would arrive here before all my hair turned white.

But Butter+Beans isn't the only Western-style café nearby.

---

The first to open was Doors Café, an offshoot of Doors Music + Tapas in Phnom Penh, Cambodia. The weird murals of caffeinated three-eyed aliens and various doors of different colours lent more quirk to Doors, making it more of a hangout and a "chillax" joint.

I'm confident whatever they serve at Doors won't turn you into ... those

Melody and I returned for a peek after a huge dinner (elsewhere). Since I last visited, they've added lots of items on the menu: pastas, sandwiches, baked eggs... those kinds of things. Unfortunately, the kitchen closes at 6pm, so no dinners.

But the iced chocolate, with a scoop of chocolate ice cream, was still as good — and sweet — as the last time, and the coffee was just right.

Doors' all-day breakfast is particularly filling: puréed sweet potato (I think), pan-seared Russet potatoes with rosemary, two slices of toasted baguette, a pork sausage, two strips of bacon and some salad and sautéed mushrooms (no baked beans).

Several bar seats at the window now had headphones plugged into what look like prototype iPods, offering music in lieu of the food and beverages, but there's no indication of which unit plays what.

I picked one and switched it on according to the instructions and my ears were filled with Mandarin-language café music. In spite of the caffeine, I found myself getting sleepy.

It's enough to make me want to freelance and set up shop here.

---

The interior of Midsummer Night Café at Jalan Awan Hijau (same row as MyBurgerLab OUG) looks more like a schoolroom, with its desks and chairs of recycled and smoothed cream-hued wood. Seemed apt, considering the boss, Jon, was formerly a lecturer at a college. The chairs' thick seats are hollow, to house a magazine or book.

The interior of Midsummer Night Café

From what Jon said, what he used to teach has little to do with the décor. One wall was decorated with miniature versions of movie posters, most of which were of Hong Kong films. The selection is changed every couple of months.

Coasters, to prevent condensation from cold drinks staining the wood, are actually laminated screencaps from HK films, complete with lines from the depicted characters.

"Why tell people? It's fine as long as you're happy," goes Chow Yun-fat in An Autumn's Tale.

From its Facebook page, interior and overall feel, I thought this was more of a hangout for a Sinophone crowd.

When Jon started Midsummer Night, he was on the brink of quitting his day job and could, therefore, only open in the evenings on weekdays, hence the name. He heard the calling to do something for himself — and maybe other people — after teaching for years.

The menu features a small selection of beverages and several kinds of cake. Specials are written on a board near the counter. One item is called "Dream": frozen coffee cubes served with a pitcher of milk and gula melaka syrup.

The fine coffee and yummy iced chocolate at Doors Café (left); coasting
the afternoon away at Midsummer Night Café with Leslie Cheung and
some strong iced coffee

Another distinct feature was the lack of a voice like Pixie Lott's from the sound system, breathing lyrics about life, love and the universe. What patrons got — the day I was there, at least — was ambient sounds. Right now, it's rain with a bit of thunder, which does little to calm my nerves, jangled by my cold-brewed Colombian coffee with milk.

Four more glasses of lemon-flavoured water later, I feel much better but a bit out of place without a book or homework to occupy myself with. Maybe next time....

---

"Stop it," Melody chides, after I poke the bear-shaped bean bag (which I named Gilbert) for the umpteenth time while making what I thought were pitch-perfect bear grunts.

Don't feed the bear ... or poke him too much

Some days I prefer simple pleasures.

Then there's Butter+Beans' pastry selection.

We are back here again, weeks after our first couple of visits. Melody, a free-spirited freelancer who often works out of cafés — preferably with free wi-fi and conveniently placed power points — is smitten with her latest "office."

They even brought Food Foundry's famous mille feuilles here, on top of the salmon quiche, fig tart, the kaya and coconut danish (my favourite) and a selection of boulangerie loaves.

Finally, I thought, bona fide treats from a Western bakery and espresso-based coffee, all within walking distance.

So many choices, only one stomach. Oh, the agony.

For a while, the breads disappeared. "They didn't sell well," said the manager on duty. "So we stopped stocking them." But she also told me that the central bakery had shifted to bigger premises somewhere in Kuchai Lama, and we could place an order if we were hankering for a baguette.

Why here, of all places?

Yong, one of the partners who brought Butter+Beans to this part of KL, felt it was time for the Third Wave in coffee to arrive in this neighbourhood (ditto, Yong). "We didn't know about Doors when we picked this spot," he said.

Speaking to Melody, Ken, the other partner, divulged a need to do something more fulfilling than his high-flying job in the financial sector. He used the term "humanist", which delighted Melody no end.

And few things are more humanistic than caffeinating, feeding and bringing people together under one roof — preferably with free wi-fi and music.

---

Doors Café KL

No 51, Jalan Hujan,
Overseas Union Garden,
58200 Kuala Lumpur

Non-halal

Mon–Wed, Sun: 10am–10pm
Fri–Sat: 10am–12am

Closed on Thursdays

+603 7972 2779

doorscafe.kl@gmail.com

Facebook page

Midsummer Night Café

36A, Jalan Awan Hijau,
Overseas Union Garden,
58200 Kuala Lumpur

Tue–Fri: 7pm–12am
Sat–Sun: 3pm–12am

Closed on Mondays

+603 7971 2345

Facebook page

Butter+Beans @ OUG

No 53, Jalan Hujan Rahmat 3
Taman Overseas Union
58200 Kuala Lumpur

Now the site of Chaplang Kafe

Rocking The (Noodle) Boat

I probably should note that the photos were taken by my makan kaki that day, not me, but she didn't want to be identified by name. Maybe some day.

---

Rocking the (noodle) boat

first published in The Malay Mail Online, 31 October 2014


Like that prototype stealth ship the US wants to build, a new craze appears to have sneaked into the Klang River unnoticed ... at least, by me.

A quick search online revealed that this Thai noodle dish used to be served out of boats in Bangkok’s waterways: a small portion of flat rice noodles with pork balls, minced pork, herbs that includes lots of coriander (ugh) and a meat broth thickened with pork blood.

It came in small bowls because those boats — floating stalls, basically — had little room, and the rocking of waterborne vessels came with the risk of being scalded with hot broth. Nothing like the good old days.

Some of these boats were eventually forced on land, but the name stuck: boat noodles.

Boat Noodle co-founder Tony Lim, who has a Thai wife, said in a radio interview that he saw the potential in the dish and brought it to Malaysia.

At the time, the small-portion, bowl-stacking format is already fading in Bangkok (“Maybe they found it too troublesome” Lim said); many stalls over there serve bigger portions now. But he feels the time is ripe for the “Instagrammable” bowl-stacking experience here.

Some of the establishments that exclusively sell this dish include the Boat Noodle outlets in Subang’s Empire Shopping Gallery, Jaya One and Publika; Thaitanic (seriously?) at Scott Garden, along Old Klang Road; and another at Sea Park called The Porki Society, where one of the co-founders has a Thai girlfriend.

Bowl-tower rating: like a red cape to kiasu Malaysians (left); the
portions may be small enough to inhale, but the soups pack a punch

But it was at Zab Zab Boat Noodle at Kuchai Lama where makan kaki Melody and I got our feet wet on the whole boat noodle thing. This was the height of the mania and we had to wait for about 20 minutes for our turn.

Hungry and tired, I stewed outside, glaring at a table of three (a codger and his two sons) that ordered another eight bowls while several towers of empty bowls were still being built.

Hope the whole pile tilts and squashes you all flat, breaks into pieces and shreds you.

I nearly wept with relief when we finally got a table. However, even with three cooks the noodles took a long time to arrive. And the much-touted pandan coconut dessert had run out.

We got eight bowls each: four of the (supposedly) pork-blood broth and clear tom yam soup each. All bowls had the prerequisite pork balls, a little minced pork and some bean sprouts. Looking critically at the bowls, I spooned some oil-soaked chilli flakes into my first bowl of tom yam noodles.

At a boat noodle restaurant, this is average (for a table for two)

Which might have been a mistake. Because after that I couldn’t tell whether the blood-broth noodles were also spiked with chilli.

In spite of the heat, I found myself preferring the clear, citrusy and spicy(!) tom yam variant, which also had a sprinkling of crushed peanuts. I felt the thicker and heartier blood-tinged broth didn’t need the coriander.

Melody and I were assured the recipes are authentic. Considering the competition and the portion size, I don’t think the players would rock the boat too much. I vaguely recall the guy we spoke to, presumably the manager, say his wife was Thai (I see a pattern here).

The concept is minimalist and certainly Instagram-worthy, but I can understand why some might regard the dish as "not for human eats one."

Boat Noodle at Jaya One (with a real boat and a road sign) was singled out for minute servings of cool congealed noodles. I’d visited the place before and after the criticism and it looks like the owners were watching the social media channels.

Other complaints include the serving size. An option to lump multiple servings into one bowl is available at Zab Zab but I’m not sure about the others.

Things appear to have cooled down for boat noodles of late. All fads fade away, but I can’t help wondering how long the spicy, hearty flavours in the little bowls will stay afloat in our fast-changing culinary landscape.

---

Zab Zab Boat Noodle

43G, Jalan Kuchai Maju 7
Off Jalan Kuchai Lama
58200 Kuala Lumpur

Non-halal

Daily, 12pm-10pm

Facebook page

"If Migrants Can't Work The Wok, How Lah?"

Strangely enough, it wasn't the announcement of the ban that seeded the thoughts for this op-ed, but another opinion piece in The Malay Mail Online weeks earlier that seemed to support the ban as it was being mulled.

One of the offending phrases was, "A French masterchef once told me that you can never beat a French chef when it comes to cooking a good French cuisine."

Even if that's true, can anybody identify "good French cuisine" by taste? When even food snobs can be tricked into thinking McDonald's is organic? And do you care who is making your 'Thai' boat noodles?

Hell, maybe the idea of "authenticity" in cuisine (Thanks, Robyn Eckhardt) is bullshit all along.

Still, I thought they'd never go through with it. But 2016, the year this ban goes into effect, is a long way off. Anything can happen in between.

---

If migrants can't work the wok, how lah?

First published in The Malay Mail Online, 29 October 2014


So, foreign migrants will not be allowed to cook hawker food in Penang.

The move, ostensibly, is to safeguard the authenticity of Penang's street food culture. Nobody wants to eat hawker food made by foreigners, it's been claimed. The thought of a Myanmarese, Nepali or Bangladeshi frying char koay teow, dressing jiu hu char and stuffing pie tee is just too traumatic for gourmands who endured long hours of travel to finally bask in the glow of one of Malaysia's street food meccas.

I don't know if I should be appalled, angry or amused (or maybe all three) at this.

First of all, most of today's Penangites were descended from foreigners, who brought and shared their own food cultures with the locals. How else did this unique panoply of aromas, colours, flavours and textures arrive and evolve into what we're Facebooking or Instagramming today?

Former chef Tony Bourdain, one of my favourite writers, seems fine with the Hispanic migrants cooking French food in the restaurants he's worked in, saying that they have better work ethics than some Americans. They pick things up, he says, can take it on the chin and cook French cuisine right. Can't migrants to our shores be similarly taught?

Second, how do we determine whether something tastes "100 per cent Penang-mari"? I doubt many Penangites — even those who've never left their neighbourhoods — could agree on one set of flavours that represents the state. Let's not mention the "outsiders", including the sons and daughters of Penang who've been away from home for so long, who probably can't tell, either.

Food writers and lifestyle people tend to lament "the passing of a legend" or "the fading away of an institution" in terms so melancholic you'd wonder if they're mourning the passing of a country's founding father.

But did Char Koay Teow Auntie ever want to be an institution? Maybe all she wanted was to get out of the house or put her kids to school so they won't have to slave over a stove like she did.

Then some rube from CNN encounters her stall and elevates her signature dish to UNESCO-heritage status — when she's on the verge of retirement. What if she's adamant on closing shop and not selling the business off to someone for the sake of preservation?

For every "institution" hyped up in the press there might be a dozen or so somewhere in the boondocks or a quiet alley, hidden from treasure-seeking hipsters, serving a clientèle selfish and smart enough not to share their little gems with the outside world because they know what will happen if they do.

Cooking isn't something you can totally pick up from books. You need stamina, a love of food and the drive to see food happen in your life and share that with people. Maybe that's why I feel some of the best cooks work out of their own kitchens.

Preserving a range of flavours for commercial or entrepreneurial reasons can be even more daunting. You need pros — people trained and drilled to churn out the same things, day in day out. If the descendants of Char Koay Teow Auntie would rather go into sales or blogging than stepping up to the stove and fling flat rice noodles, cockles and bean sprouts all day, an chua-leh?

For me, the bigger issue is how are we going to preserve the hawker fare we grew up with. The hints of cultural jingoism in the response to the foreign cook ban suggests Penangites feel the street food culture is best preserved by keeping it in Penang. I wonder what Bangkok residents feel about the rise of boat noodle places in the Klang Valley.

If the dishes peddled by the hawkers are so unique to the state, we shouldn't be too picky about the custodians. A street food academy or the introduction of modules on street food in existing culinary courses might be more helpful than not letting foreigners in the kitchen.

To assume that our local food culture is done evolving is a fallacy. No culture or civilisation is ever done evolving, except when it's extinct — or insulated from change. Penang's street food culture is no different, and it will eventually fade away if we don't learn to let it flow with the times.

"Remember Us"

This book was, in retrospect, reviewed on impulse.

But the "emissary" said I just had to, had to read it. Maybe she was that blown away by the tale of that 14-year-old who followed her dad to Gaza.

To a certain degree, I was. Perhaps you'd be, too.

---

A book that does more than tell stories

first published in The Malay Mail Online, 01 August 2014


Palestine has always been an emotional topic, so I've largely stayed out of it. But a tiny piece of Palestine arrived at my desk, begging me for a look.

"I visited an NGO and they gave me this," said the emissary, who even bookmarked a couple of what she thought were the best parts.

Remember Us: Stories of Struggles, Hopes and Dreams is a project by Viva Palestina Malaysia (VPM), a group of NGOs pushing for the creation of a free sovereign Palestinian state.

This book puts together poems, short stories and real-life accounts of what's going on in the area by residents and visiting activists. What's striking is that the contributors and the "creative editors" are all women.

Even before I opened the first page I knew what I'd find inside. The Malaysian pro-Palestinian bias is pretty thick, and while some also blame certain quarters within the Palestinian resistance for their role in prolonging the conflict, none of the contributors seem to feel that way.

Most, if not all of the non-fiction accounts, read like dispatches from oh so many online news portals that have been bringing the horrors of the conflict to audiences, telling them of their sojourns into hostile territory and of the lives of those who live there.

An old woman who kept the keys to her home that she was driven away from, clinging on to the hope that she would return to it.

The frustrations of a young lady whose life and pastimes are dampened by daily power supply interruptions.

Another young lady's visit to a foreign country (mine) and her written exchange with American academic Noam Chomsky (really?).

Yet another young lady's anguish and fury at the death of her friends in the hands of Israeli forces, which she says makes her a "terrorist" because "I want the Palestinian refugees to get their land back, and I call the Israeli army a group of cold-hearted murderers all the time."

She makes a particular mention of one young victim. "Haneen did not know what a cold-hearted murderer is... She was a 6-year-old girl who was split into little pieces while in bed. Haneen was too young to die. But who cares about Haneen's death, anyway? She was a terrorist, too."

Among the several Malaysian contributors was a 14-year-old girl (by now I'm all "where are all the men OMG so embarrassed for my gender") who was brought to visit Gaza by her dad, the chairman of VPM; it's her adventure that this book's emissary was gushing about.

Said 14-year-old's short entry ends with a small punch in the gut: "I hope one day I will get the chance to visit Gaza again to volunteer and make myself useful, instead of just finishing their limited supplies of food."

Now, the editing could be tighter, the flow between stories better managed, the cover better designed, and the overall narrative tips heavily towards the Palestinians. But all this melts under the heat of the emotions that emanate from the pages. One can't help but wonder...

What would life for these people be, devoid of the fear of missiles in their living rooms, their roofs collapsing on top of them at night, being picked off by snipers or stray bullets while buying produce at the market, and being dragged away from some checkpoint by armed men, possibly never to return?

What would these people achieve in a world where the air is clean, free of the smell of explosives and burning flesh, chemicals from supposedly forbidden weapons and the wails of grieving fathers, mothers and children? Where they are allowed to live like free people should?

What would it take for the world to stand up, cast aside its collective historical and mental baggage, and do something to make it happen? And not just in the territories occupied by Israel?

It's perhaps a pity that we only get to hear 20 or so voices here, and even these may be forgotten, silenced and swept away by yet another tide of hate, anger, grief, outrage and indignation raised by a fresh salvo of bombs and bullets.

But to resign oneself to this would be an act of surrender, and none of the contributors — Palestinians and Malaysians alike — want to do that just yet. As long as there are those who speak up from and for the occupied territories, the plight of its people — and hope for their freedom — will never be forgotten.


This book is a project by Viva Palestina Malaysia. More information on VPM can be found at their web site; more information on the book can be found here.

Punctuation for one paragraph in this version has been changed. The previously supplied Facebook link is bad; the right Facebook page appears to be this one.

---

Remember Us

Stories of Struggles, Hopes and Dreams

Zabrina A. Bakar and Husna Musa (editors)
Wise Words Publishing (2013)
178 pages
Mix of fiction and non-fiction
ISBN: 978-967-12261-0-0

Get the book from PalestineMall.net

Web site: rememberusstories.com/wp/

It's A Pie Thing

So it's been over a year since I wrote my last food review. I think it shows.

Opinions of the place seem divided; some liked it, others didn't. I wasn't too enthusiastic about the pie place initially. Then the pulled lamb happened. Give. It. A. Go. I'd return for the meat pies, and I think they have a limited-edition special at the moment.

Sorry about the odd photo dimensions; they were taken with a Samsung Grand smartphone.

---

Pie thing, you make my gut sing...

first published in The Malay Mail Online, 09 July 2014


Reading about pies in a Terry Pratchett novel (which isn't about pies) made me want to try something similar, but I was hard-pressed to think of a suitable pie place.

However, after a long caffeine-soaked afternoon with Melody's friends, that choice was made for me. "Let's give A Pie Thing a whirl," one of them suggested. "Maybe in a couple of weeks?"

Interior of A Pie Thing, Damansara Uptown

Since then, I've heard a thing or two about this pie place, all of which from makan kaki Melody. Seems pies are the hottest new thing in town and Klang Valley-dwellers have begun to take note.

So one Sunday evening, off we went to A Pie Thing at Damansara Uptown for dinner. Currently, this new kid on the block (only launched this May) only opens from four in the afternoon and closes at 11pm — or until all pies are sold out, says the chalkboard outside.

Savoury pies appear to be the focus, with several dessert pies like lemon curd, peanut butter and chocolate, and a flavour called "The Elvis" (peanut butter, chocolate and banana) to round up their offerings.

Among the savoury offerings are chicken and mushroom, "pulled lamb", chilli and cheese, and creamy spinach, tucked into coffee cup-sized casings of shortcrust pastry.

Aside from the rich brown gravy, patrons have the option of capping their pies with either mashed potatoes or mashed peas — or a combination of both, called "The Mashacre", which can also be paired with a soda or hot beverage to form a combo.

Beverages? Choose from a list of coffees, teas, and something called the Leonidas Dark Choc Latte, which sang to Melody: "Take me off the shelf, I'll show you a good time."

Left: Choose to crown your pies with mashed peas (foreground) or
good old mashed potatoes; Centre: Oh, succulent, saliva-pumping
savoury goodness; Right: Surprisingly, the Peanut Butter Brownie
was nice and not as filling as the savoury meat pies

Neither of us wanted to be "mashacred" this evening, and Melody's two friends haven't shown up yet. So we picked a pie each, with gravy and one topping. "Let's try these and see if we can recommend these to them later," she said.

I know you're famished, Mel. You told me so — twice — on the way here. No need to cover it up.

Melody's creamy spinach was subtly flavoured, so it needed the gravy — not just because the crust can be dry. The champions are undoubtedly the meat pies. The pulled lamb, for one, was sublime. Even the pastry itself was good, after it soaked up a good amount of gravy.

♪ ...pie thing, I ... think you move me... ♫

By the time the other half of the pie party arrived and started ordering, we were almost done. So I decided on a chilli and cheese, which also had minced beef that was gamier compared to the lamb, said Melody. The flavour suited me fine, though they could have cut down on the salt.

The Dark Choc Latte was another odd thing. It came in two parts: a bottle of heated milk and a dark chocolate "lollipop." You unwrap the "lollipop", swirl it into the milk while it's still hot until almost nothing's left on the stick, and savour.

The flavour's pretty good, but the novelty of it doesn't last. If you're still not satisfied, a whole counter of other Leonidas products is available.

For me, it's the meat pies, hands down. Though they could re-think the use of the paper lining, which, despite being able to drink as much gravy as the pie crust, is hardly as appetising.

---

A Pie Thing

128G, Jalan SS21/35
Damansara Utama
47400 Petaling Jaya
Selangor

Pork-free

CLOSED FOR GOOD; MOVING ELSEWHERE?

Twitter | Facebook page | BFM89.9 Interview

Boey's Back

Something told me I shouldn't be reviewing this book, even as I thought, "Well, why not? I was honest about the first."

Yes, you can believe that

It's the first time this has happened to me, so I'm not sure if being blurbed in a previous book by the same author disqualifies me from reviewing his future book(s).

Most would say it does. If I like the latest book, it would look like I'm trying to help him sell it; if I don't I might sound 'inconsistent'.

By now, he's pretty much a celebrity. He doesn't really need a lot of help, not like when he published his first book. What I want to see now, more than his next book, is what he's going to do with his celebrity.

---

Boey's back

first published in The Malay Mail Online, 10 October 2013


I had waited weeks for this to arrive — and now it's here.

I turned a page. Hmm.

I turned another page. This is funny.

And another. Ha ha.

And another. Whoa.

And another. How did he get away with that?

And ... another. Oh my G*d.

I stopped myself from planting my oily face onto the page.

If I thought his hijinks in the first book were outrageous, the ones in this follow-up are more so.


Return of the kid
About a year has passed since Boey Cheeming first released his autobiographical compilation of comics When I Was A Kid — and his personality — upon an unsuspecting Malaysian public.

In the wake of the unexpected success of this book comes When I Was A Kid 2. The ending of his previous book suggested that the next one would be a sequel that explores his college years and adult life in the US. Instead, we get another collection of his childhood stories, an add-on to the first book.

Fans of his work will welcome this latest collection. We can expect the same style of art and storytelling, but the stories all look new. The tone, however, appears more sombre as the author leans more towards tugging our heartstrings instead of tickling our funny bones.

We smile, laugh, cringe, and shudder in horror at his childhood antics and, by proxy, at our own. While we still get some of a kid's wide-eyed wonder at the strange and new around him, like the time the author "touched a rainbow", we also see that the cracks around that innocent worldview are starting to show. In this book, "The Kid" that is Boey is beginning to grow up.

His remembrances of his grandmother brought me back to my own, as did his wonder over a simple bicycle ride with his dad, a prominent figure in this collection. I found his thoughts on toys profound and his memories of the slides at his childhood playground poignant. I think there's also some criticism about how kids these days are spoiled...

...and damn spoiled some of them are, too...

...which I'm hard-pressed to disagree with.


Hazy memories
However, the collection has some amusing moments to keep it from getting too maudlin; this is Boey we're talking about.

So I turn a page. I used to play with fire, too. Don't tell anyone.

And another. Ew. Good thing I didn't see anything like that.

And another. Yeah, I hated maths and physics.

And another. Crank-calling people? Duuude.

And another — OMG I WILL NEVER UNSEE THAT AGAIN DAMN YOU BOEY.

When one revisits the past, some things appear hazy. In WIWAK 1 some of the recollections were so outrageous you wonder if Boey made it up or remembered it wrong.

This time, we have notes from his parents at the end of the book that contain clarifications on some chapters such as "Terrarium" ("...mom and dad NEVER eat all these bird in wine.") and comments ("ADD & SUBTRACT - Not so interesting" and "Onion - Already on your face book [sic] last month").

Of course, she's also in the "testimonials"...

Boey's mom sets something straight

Still, this doesn't dent the impact this book has on one's own memories. While the notes were a nice touch, making this book feel more like a family affair, it could've benefitted from some editing.

I said some things about the previous book, much of which still stands. But I'm not sure if I find Boey's growing-up years "mundane" anymore.


07/10/2014  Forgot that I got pimped a few months back but couldn't find the online version. One thing: I did say I like it, but it was MPH Distributors (a sister company) who agreed to ship the book around Malaysia and Singapore if he self-published.

A couple of years later, there are also T-shirts, calendars and - yes - notebooks, with caricatures of him instead of cats. Plus, livery on an airplane. And his books are still selling. Nobody expected just how big Boey would become, not even me.

Good thing he didn't quit.

---

When I Was A Kid 2

Boey Cheeming
199 pages
Non-fiction
ISBN: 978-0-9849786-1-8

Ingenious Iban Fable

After clicking "Send", I went to bed and woke up the next day and looked at it again.

Dear G*d, did I actually write that?

Feels like a tuak-induced hangover. But I really, really found it hard to be harsh to this novel.

And I didn't expect them to publish it so soon. Many thanks, and Happy Independence Day.

02/09/2013: Fixed a typo somewhere here.

---

Ingenious Iban fable

first published in The Malay Mail Online, 30 August 2013


In a land of ancient gods, animal spirits and omens, a war party leaves a child without family. The survivor is adopted by apes, grows up to be a warrior and is pitted against savage headhunters, terrifying beasts, marauders from a foreign kingdom, and the wrath of a vengeful deity.

Golda Mowe's Iban Dream; pua
and mat are from Nanga Ukom,
Batang Ai, Sarawak

But Golda Mowe's Iban Dream is no supernatural Tarzan fable set in the Land of the Hornbill. The world she conjures in this novel is almost as real and vibrant as any computer-generated fantasy world James Cameron can come up with.

After his home and family are decimated by a band of headhunters sent by the warpath god Sengalang Burong, young Menjat is doomed to a similar fate until the demi-god Keling intervenes.

Adamant that the boy should follow the way of the headhunter, the warpath god allows him to grow until adulthood. Tok Anjak, the leader of an orangutan troop, adopts Menjat and renames him Bujang Maias ("ape man").

Years later, shortly after Tok Anjak's passing, Bujang encounters Sengalang Burong and passes the warpath god's test. The deity marks him as his and sets him on a violent path which begins with him slaying the warrior who orphaned him. He would kill several more, to aid the people of a longhouse who eventually makes him their chief. But trouble looms over the horizon...


As real as it can get
Mowe spins this fable like a master pua kumbu weaver, incorporating aspects of Iban lore into this rich tapestry of words. At times, she tends to get carried away with details, slowing down the flow of the story to an uncomfortable level as she demands that we stop and smell the air and taste the water.

From feasts of durian, sweet fragrant rice, and a demon-boar buffet to the clash of steel and spilled blood in life-or-death battles, we walk with Bujang as he goes from lone warrior to longhouse chief and family man.

You can almost smell the cempedak as it comes down from the tree, and the scent of the heady rice wine will drive you to the nearest watering-hole.

To those who have read about or experienced stories of longhouse life in Sarawak, the scenes and rituals depicted here will not feel alien. Iban Dream is probably a misnomer; when it comes to the life of the Iban, it's as real as it gets in this book. I'll leave it to the experts to find any discrepancies.

Apart from the attention-grabbing story, the stilted, theatrical prose begs to be on stage; almost everyone, including killers and louts, recite, rather than speak their dialogue with little emotion.

Bujang's saintliness might also be problematic, even for what is essentially a fairy tale. Raised by apes and almost guile-free, his glowing near-perfection starkly contrasts with his enemies' ugly characters.

With relative ease, he battles and overcomes bloodthirsty men who have no respect for custom and the will of the gods. A real Disney prince if I ever saw one.

Still, there's something beguiling about this dream world that kept me going back to revisit certain scenes. I turned a few pages to check if I got things about the book right and ended up losing about half an hour — proof that Mowe's lavish, colourful Iban dream is one that's easy to get lost in and hard to wake up from.

---

Iban Dream

Golda Mowe
Monsoon Books (2013)
288 pages
Fiction
ISBN: 978-981-4423-12-0

Afterlife Adventure

first published in The Malay Mail Online, 26 August 2013


It wasn't too long ago that I'd read a novel set in pre-war/post-war Malaya. Now I get another one. How many times must we re-visit this era like some old propaganda reel?

Nevertheless, I soldiered on with the hope that this one will be different. Thank my ancestors that it is.

Set in 19th-century Malacca, The Ghost Bride is a supernatural tale of love, tradition, and taboos. The protagonist of Choo Yangsze's novel is Pan Li Lan, a somewhat bookish young lady of a once-prosperous family. Her father spends his days chasing the dragon (smoking opium) and not much else.

Out of the blue comes a proposal from the prosperous Lim family for Li Lan to become a ghost bride to their recently-deceased scion. All seems fine and dandy until the dead boy Lim Tian Ching starts courting Li Lan in her dreams and repulses her. That'll teach her to think about husbands before bedtime.

Then she learns that she'd been originally betrothed to Tian Ching's kinder and cuter cousin Tian Bai, before it was scrapped for the current arrangement. Oh, how the tears flowed.

And when Tian Ching's night-time visitations become unbearable, the desperate Li Lan overdoses on a medium's nostrum which kicks her soul out of her body. But she soon learns to make the best of her situation, thanks in part to a female ghost called Fan who teaches her some of the basics.

As she adjusts to her new situation as a real ghost, she takes the opportunity to satisfy her curiosity about her family's past, Tian Bai's past, and how Tian Ching was able to enter her dreams. This eventually takes her to the realm of the dead and an adventure of an afterlifetime.

Things get hairier when corrupt hell officials and animal-headed demon constables get involved. Coming to Li Lan's rescue include the Pan family chef Old Wong (no relation), who can see ghosts, and Er Lang, a mysterious young fellow who appears to be a spirit-world constable.

I was told — and can see why — this novel is categorised as young adult fiction in the UK; a few times I've wanted to rename this book Huánghūn. Li Lan sounds like a typical teenaged girl who reads the likes of Judith McNaught or Stephenie Meyer. Here, Pan Li Lan is speaking to an audience.

We're treated to her thoughts, hopes and fears in a narrative that on occasion includes details about things like Malacca, Bukit China, Qing Ming, and the blue pea-flower used to make Nyonya kuih. Rare attempts at wit include her giving her nursemaid "a ghost of a smile" when she assures her she's fine.

Even in her panic upon discovering an ox demon guarding the door to her room, she manages to tell us, like a schoolteacher, that it looks like a seladang, a kind of wild ox found in the Malayan jungles, yada yada. Her descriptions of the street food she sees as she floats by some hawker stands is enough to make you hungry like a ghost.

Is it a coincidence that this book — about a young Straits-Chinese girl's adventures in the spirit world — was officially released during the Hungry Ghost Month?

We get no incredible heroics from Li Lan, apart from some attempts at subterfuge that end badly because of bad luck. After all, she is a normal girl and how she is portrayed here — an interloper in a dangerous realm — is as realistic as suspension of disbelief allows.

We also get the love triangle, an indispensible aspect in many YA plots — albeit a thin one. In Team Tian Bai versus Team Er Lang, the former is soliticious and gentle to our lovely orchid, while the latter is snarky, abrasive, and doesn't seem to care about her. We know how this ends, don't we?

But ah, how Choo paints the backdrops: the old Malacca neighbourhoods, the interiors of Peranakan houses and the din at the mahjong table. Even her vision of the afterlife is kind of credible, except perhaps for the comparison between the ancient and "modern" offerings for the dead.

The way Choo Yangsze's The Ghost Bride demands its readers' attention, it almost seems taboo to skim it. Fans of lush, descriptive writing styles will dive straight into Li Lan's world. Others like, say, jaded, slightly bibliophobic reviewers would probably be content to paddle on the surface, at the cost of missing out some good parts.

Other than that, it is a somewhat good book. Don't just take Oprah's word for it.

---

The Ghost Bride

Yangsze Choo
William Morrow (2013)
368 pages
Fiction
ISBN: 978-0-06-227553-0

Rushmore Revelations

So it's a bit odd that I reviewed this book after Flashback. Not so odd if you know that this was written months before Flashback was released. Wish I'd thought of a better title, though.

---

Rushmore revelations

first published in The Malay Mail Online, 19 August 2013

Dan Simmons's time-tripping historical novel, Black Hills, can perhaps be considered among his better works of historical fiction. It chronicles the life and times of Paha Sapa, a Lakota Sioux named after his tribe's most sacred region, the Black Hills at what is today South Dakota in the US.

The novel starts right in the middle of the Battle of The Little Bighorn. A young Paha Sapa touches the body of a dying George Armstrong Custer and, with his supernatural talents, absorbs his ghost. He also divines Sioux war chief Crazy Horse's violent death in the very near future.

Soon after, Paha Sapa's guardian, his tribe's holy man, sends him to the Black Hills on a vision quest, far away from the paranoid Crazy Horse's deadly fury. What Paha Sapa sees there horrifies him: four stone giants, rising up from Mount Rushmore to literally devour the "fat of the land": trees, animals, and people.

Mount Rushmore was originally known as Six Grandfathers to the Lakota Sioux, and lies along a path taken by a chieftain on a spiritual trek. In the novel, it is the spirits of the mountain, also dubbed the Six Grandfathers, who show young Paha Sapa the dreadful vision.

However, he never gets to tell his tribe what he saw. While escaping an enemy tribe's patrol, he loses his tribe's treasure that was placed in his care. Feeling suicidal, the boy leads the white cavalry unit that captured him to Crazy Horse's war party, hoping to die in the ensuing skirmish. The plan fails, and Paha Sapa's life in a new America begins.

As William Slow Horse, Paha Sapa rides with Buffalo Bill's Wild West show, marries the daughter of a French missionary, and has a son with her. As Billy Slovak, he ends up working for sculptor Gutzon Borglum, who is raising four stone giants out of Mount Rushmore: carvings of former US presidents George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Theodore Roosevelt and Abraham Lincoln.

Believing that these were the stone giants he saw in his vision quest — the future he's supposed to prevent, Paha Sapa begins planning his version of 9/11 for the Mount Rushmore monument.

Simmons is quite the storyteller. He weaves lots of history and Native American culture and language into this tale with ease. Minor complaints, such as the non-linear storyline and the eye-gouging italics used to render much of the spoken dialogue and Custer's monologues, all fade from memory as one turns the pages.

Paha Sapa's observations of the white man's world through the lens of his tribal roots are interesting, even though he feels he no longer belongs in what is now the white man's country. So it's perhaps understandable when his son Robert enlists in the army, saying "My country is at war", Paha Sapa feels like exploding.

There's also Custer's ghost, lodged inside his mind. For decades he's endured the naughty love notes he dictated to his widow, or his taunts during the few "conversations" they have had.

And he believes that by leading the US cavalry to Crazy Horse that day, he may have played a role in the events that led to the eventual surrender of the sacred Black Hills to the US. Small wonder he needs to blow up something.

The epilogue, however, reads more like an article, and is perhaps too quick a wrap-up. I found the ending a bit too fantastical, even for a work that's part sci-fi, but it does sort of explain how Paha Sapa does, indirectly, save his beloved Native American culture.

While there's a bit of posturing about how all of humanity in general — natives and newcomers — are "fat takers", there is, I think, also a warning for all of us, spoken through the Six Grandfathers in one of Paha Sapa's visions:

"...the tides of men and their peoples and even of their gods ebbs and flows like the Great Seas on each coast of this continent we gave you. A people no longer proud of itself or confident in their gods or in their own energies recedes, like the waning tide, and leaves only reeking emptiness behind. These Fat Takers also shall know that one day..."

---

Black Hills

Dan Simmons
Reagan Arthur Books (2010)
485 pages
Fiction
ISBN: 978-0-316-07265-6

High-Seas Hazards

This review was written over a year ago, perhaps at a time when Somali pirates were a big deal before Snowden, Tahrir Square 2.0 and the whole mess in Syria came along. It's been said that the increased scrutiny of the Horn of Africa has made piracy less attractive there, but with these things, one never knows.

---

High-seas hazards

Kill some time with some fast-paced, lightweight pirate fiction

first published in The Malay Mail Online, 06 August 2013


Prolific African-born author Wilbur Smith's books might be "airport novels" (according to "Wilbur Smith can't stop the words" in The Star, June 21, 2011) but from experience, they can be fun, albeit hefty.

So maybe they should only be read if one knows one's flight will be delayed by some three to five hours. Many of Smith's books can demand a lot of one's attention.

Though better known for his epic historical novels set in Africa, Smith has written other standalone novels as well. His latest of the latter, Those in Peril, is an action-adventure tale of terrorism, piracy, religious extremism, vengeance, betrayal, sacrifice and covert operations.

This leaner book also lacks his hallmark lush, voluminous prose. Maybe he's slowing down. With over 30 novels to his name, it's probably time he did.

A haughty ice queen of a woman, widowed Hazel Bannock is the boss of Bannock Oil. In her employ is Hector Cross, a security expert who's also a former member of the British Special Air Service (SAS).

Though their first meeting is hardly cordial, readers will know they'd hook up at some point. Readers who don't are the ones knocked out cold by the clues thrown at them.

Elsewhere, in the Indian Ocean, Hazel's headstrong daughter Cayla had taken her mother's yacht for a cruise with Rogier, a guy she'd picked up. A huge mistake: Rogier, a member of a Somali bandit clan, sneaks his pirate buddies onboard the vessel. Cayla is taken hostage, but not before she leaves her mummy a text message.

Because of her spoilt little girl's carelessness and the complicated politics of the day, Hazel has to beg Cross, the "arrogant" and "awful know-it-all", to mount a covert rescue operation and bring her daughter home. Cross succeeds, but that's only half the tale. Is Cayla really the baddies' target, or is there something else afoot?

Though the storytelling is crisp and the plot tightly woven, the pace is hurried in many parts, probably to keep the reader from noticing the strange, unbelievable situations and gaps in logic. For one, the good guys somehow manage to find time for witty banter under the stresses of hostage rescues, black ops, and possible death.

While planning Cayla's rescue mission, Hazel and Cross even manage to find time for chess, a fancy dinner, skinny-dipping and a bit of you-know-lah, nudge, wink, nudge. At one point in the middle of a mission, Hazel even approves of her lethal, highly trained body-double's taste in lingerie.

Parts of this novel take place in the lawless territories of Somalia, so we know who the antagonists are. Still, Smith makes damned sure we know, with devices such as bad-guy names (Rogier is really Adam Abdul Tippoo Tip), bad-guy habits (the violent, misogynistic head of the Tippoo Tip family hunts people like how they hunt foxes) and bad-guy talk ("My name is Anwar (Tippoo Tip). Remember it, Cross, you pig of the great pig.").

Some of these presumably crass, unwashed brigands sound like they took acting classes at some British drama academy; at times, I thought I was reading a River God sequel.

Okay, fine. Cross and some of his friends aren't much better. They're a tad racist, potty-mouthed and have generally bad manners, but by the end of the sentence where they're introduced you'll be friends with them, too. Nobody will miss the bad guys when they get killed.

Some parts are uncomfortable to read. Cayla's sexual enslavement and scenes of radical Sharia punishments at a village square in Puntland, for instance, are unnecessarily graphic and appear gratuitously added for weight. And what's with the cameo by royal gaffe-machine Prince Philip, the Duke of Edinburgh?

Smith reputedly has a knack for melding history, geography and a dash of Mills & Boon into his tales. Those in Peril, however, also includes an incredible plot, two-dimensional characters, sparse and rushed storytelling and a sanguine ending — fast-paced, intellectually lightweight, straightforward fun for anyone (not just airport-goers) with some time to kill.

---

Those in Peril

Wilbur Smith
MacMillan (2011)
386 pages
Fiction
ISBN: 978-0-230-52927-4

Betty, the Vampire Slayer

Forget the pom-poms and wooden stakes - Elizabeth I of England blasts bloodsuckers to kingdom come with raw magic in this retelling of her history

first published in The Malay Mail Online, 03 July 2013


As queen, Elizabeth Tudor, also known as Elizabeth I of England (1533-1603), was noted for slaying some notable things. Mary, Queen of Scots. The Spanish Armada. But what if she also slew vampires?

That's the premise behind The Secret History of Elizabeth Tudor, Vampire Slayer. The novel's marketing set-up touts it as the start of a "sumptuous new series" based on the Virgin Queen's "never-before-seen" diaries, "revealed to the world" by Lucy Weston, the minor vampire character in many Dracula films and the "owner" of the seemingly defunct www.lucywestonvampire.com. "Weston" is also credited as the novel's author, but I have no idea who is/are behind "her."

The novel begins days before Elizabeth's coronation, court official William Cecil and polymath Dr John Dee lead the future queen to her mother's gravesite where she begins to glow, smells roses and hears her mother's voice.

It turns out to be more than just pre-coronation jitters. Liz (let's call her "Liz"; "Betty" is still too long) is revealed to be a slayer of vampires and descendant of Druid priestess Morgraine (a.k.a. Morgan le Fey), whose powers have awakened in her.

Cecil and Dee confess to being members of a circle entrusted with this secret and her protection. She is less than pleased with the revelation, but eventually embraces it for the sake of her kingdom.

The vampires are led by Mordred, the illegitimate son of the legendary King Arthur and, therefore, a legit claimant to the English throne. He joined the creatures to save England a thousand years earlier. Back then, he courted Morgraine and offered her the same deal, but was rebuffed. Now, he's eyeing Liz.

On the night she is crowned, Mordred warns Liz of the dangers she and her kingdom faced from rival countries and the Pope and offers her power and protection from those dangers – if she becomes his vampire queen. He's told to sod off.

However, Liz finds him charming, despite what he is, but she also has those rival kingdoms and court intrigues to deal with. There's also the ironically vampiric nature of her gift which, among other things, allows her to blast vampires to smithereens with energy bolts; every bloodsucker she kills feeds her powers and urge to kill more of them.

Besides Cecil and Dee, other real-life figures here include Liz's governess, Kat Ashley; Francis Walsingham, who would become the royal spymaster; and Robert Dudley, the queen's long-time companion and reputed lover.

Written in a way that brings to mind Shakespeare, this two-narrator work barely registers as Harlequin horror. Though convincing from a historical viewpoint, the novel stumbles when it came to the romance/horror bit.

Scenes with Liz and Mordred are more like a dance, not tussle, of emotions, even as the two are torn between duty and their mutual attraction to each other. The plot feels loose and almost every twist can be predicted. Except, perhaps, how it ends.

And Mordred, that powerful, time-warping and space-bending immortal being of the night, is so addled by his feelings for the fledgling queen, judging from his side of the story.

To the chagrin of Lady Blanche, the token jealous other woman and his second-in-command, he still hopes that Liz will join him, even as she starts slaying his kin.

I say it's because of her rank and powers. Slayer Liz comes off as a wilful royal brat, steeped in the belief that her right to lord over her subjects is divinely ordained; any talk of altruism, charity and justice seems obligated by faith and duty.

Nor does she believe the "radical" idea that all men are equal: "Truly, if that addled notion ever becomes common currency, the world will be undone." She's so made for Mordred.

The romantic "tension" between Liz and Rob Dudley feels just as obligatory. The blow-hot/blow-cold stuff and love scenes are all by the numbers. Rob's a pitiful, poor rival of Mordred. Historically, Rob never got to marry Liz, partly due to the queen's vaguely feminist tendencies. He must feel even more inadequate, now that his royal lady love can go pew pew pew like the Death Star.

The ending and the asides by Mordred in the first part of the "secret diaries" seem to hint at a future continuation of and a dark turn in Elizabeth Tudor's so-called secret history as a vampire-killing machine.

But would such a series still be viable, now that the Twilight saga on the big screen has ended and, perhaps, driven the last nail into the coffin of a tired, well-milked genre?


This review is based on an advanced reading copy.

---

The Secret History of Elizabeth Tudor, Vampire Slayer

Lucy Weston
Gallery Books (2011)
304 pages
Fiction
ISBN: 978-1-4391-9033-3