One Sick Fish

When I was with Off The Edge, we received mail from a reader who noted the little "Consumer Price Index" slot we gave to Hotel Nikko, advertising its Chinese restaurant's Superior Shark's Fin with Golden Broth and Gold Foil (OTE, Jan 2009).

He went on to express "surprise" that "one of the more enlightened publications in Malaysia" would promote, from the vibes I got, something so decadent and environmentally damaging as sharks fin soup. Shock! Horror!

So he suggested that perhaps we should've added a disclaimer of some kind, which he helpfully provided. The chief felt he had a point, so he published the "disclaimer" in full in the next issue.

Eating shark-fin soup seriously threatens the survival of sharks. More than one hundred million sharks are killed each year ... The irony is while the shark-fin itself is tasteless ... it actually contains a high concentration of toxic mercury (causes nervous system deterioration, male infertility) since [the shark] is the apex predator in the sea and accumulates all the mercury from the fishes in consumes during its long life. Have a healthy Chinese New Year.

I had different thoughts.

The reader might have done his homework and meant well, but to me he was a complete tyro. The point was to promote the dish, and tacking his kind of "disclaimer" to the slot would be the equivalent of "save the sharks, shut down some restaurants". The "male infertility" thing was definitely pinpoint targeting. Tact, dude.

And did he really feel people who'd buy OTE would be so woefully uninformed about shark's fin? As a sometimes-reader myself, I'd be offended - and I was. And still am.

Given the choice, I wouldn't order it. It's expensive, wasteful (if it came from finning) and the fin fibres themselves have as much nutrition as your hair or fingernails. But when a bowl of Jaws' flipper-fibres is put in front of me, I'm very likely to eat it. Because by the time the shark goes into the bowl, it is already too late.

I like sharks. It is one sick fish. While the raptors were busy growing the parts that would help them fly, sharks were already masters of their realm. Around this time was the reign of a personal favourite: carcharocles megalodon, the bus-sized, whale-eating terror of the deep.

The shark evolved to effectively hunt and kill slow, weak and stupid marine life, so that only the strong remain and make stronger, smarter offspring - kind of like what Simon, Randy, et al do on American Idol. On lean days, their keen senses are used to look for dead or dying prey species and eat that, keeping the seas relatively clean and sanitised.

However, as Reader so helpfully pointed out, in this day and age countless numbers of sharks across the spectrum of species are killed each year. And as apex predators of the deep, they accumulate all sorts of toxic substances in their bodies as they hunt and eat inside increasingly polluted oceans, much like whales.

Though it's been established that many species such as the great white mature slowly and rarely reproduce, science still knows so little about the shark's life cycles. The scale of the slaughter is such that the impact of one dead shark can send big ripples across an ecosystem.

And if we do wipe out the sharks, are we willing to take their place in the ecosystem, hunting and cleaning up the oceans of dead, rotting whales and such?

But it didn't used to be like this. Or was it, except on a smaller, more sustainable scale?

Which is why I'm interested in what this book has to say about sharks and our relationships with them. They could have done away with the simulated gill slits on the cover, though. And did they have to call it Demon Fish?

In this book, the author Juliet Eilperin goes round the world to investigate how different individuals and cultures relate to the shark, one of nature's most awesome creatures. Eilperin is the national environmental reporter for The Washington Post, where she writes about science, policy, and politics in areas ranging from climate change to oceans.

Ah, that's one sick book. Too bad it comes with a sick price tag. The paperback can't come soon enough.

Man On The Fringe

In my brief stint at Off The Edge magazine, I'd had the privilege of interviewing and writing about people I'd never thought I meet and proofing the articles of some really high-powered personalities. The job had its moments but I only ever got to meet a handful of these people in person.

The first time I saw Benjamin McKay was at the first Seksualiti Merdeka, in 2008. He was in a panel that included Sharon Bong and an MP, and he was presenting a paper on public spaces and the "cruising habits of the Malaysian male." Which, he constantly reminded his audience, was done with no funding. He was a Lecturer in Film and Television Studies at the School of Arts and Social Sciences, Monash University's Sunway Campus and, I heard, knew his stuff well.

I never got to know him other than through the articles I checked, and even then, gave them a perfunctory glance for any glaring typos and whatnot. From what I would hear much later, all the copies I'd received had been substantially cleaned up beforehand.

His passing came as a shock to everyone. Back then, chances of McKay's name on a list of "people who might die tomorrow" were very, very remote.

Off The Edge folded around the same time he passed on. I barely got to know the magazine before it went, too.

My time with both McKay's articles and OTE was brief, and I did wonder if that was enough to "allow" me to attend the event that also commemorated his brief time with us. But went I did.

Fringe Benefits: Essays and Reflections on Malaysian Arts and Cinema was launched on 19 June at The Annexe, Central Market, and it was attended by several of his students, colleagues, friends and acquaintances. The book is a compilation of selected film-related articles he wrote for online Malaysian arts portal Kakiseni and Off The Edge.

The phrase "fringe benefits" had a significance. According to McKay's former colleague Yeoh Seng Guan, the fringes of a society was where interaction with the outside world was and where all the creative energies were - the edges of the box one should think out of, so to speak. So the "benefits" from the fringe are new ideas, radical ways of thinking that can enlighten and transform a society. Perhaps an allusion to a quest to bring these benefits from the fringe to the "centre" - the mainstream society.

Another thing that was mentioned was that McKay's office was located on the fringes of the campus as well. That made his fronting the "Fringe Benefits" column doubly apt.

I'm intellectually lazy, so I'll only tell you that his stuff, though at times very scholarly, were quite fun to read. Each would have a humorous undercurrent there somewhere, but he always had respect for his subjects - except, perhaps, those that deserve the full weight of his derision, though I can't remember on which occasion.

One fun article was about how common images of half-naked men were in the Philippines ("Musings on the Filipino male in advertising", Off The Edge, February 2009). The accompanying photo we had was quite low res, and I didn't relish the task of looking for a better one. We eventually settled for a less than ideal picture of "that ding-dong".

I didn't get a copy of Fringe Benefits that day. I felt I'd read enough of McKay for a while, but only as a proofreader. And I don't think it's okay to review stuff I had a part in publishing. So don't let it stop you from getting one.

Buckets Fixes Melancholy

Coming back from a wedding celebration, I got stuck in a traffic jam outside Dataran Sunway at Kota Damansara. On The Om Nom Show at BFM89.9 was artisanal ice cream entrepreneur Elaine Gunting.

As the segment wrapped up, John Lim asked Elaine where her business was located.

"We're located at Kota Damansara-"

...What?

"That's where our factory is, The Strand," she continued. "We opened some counters to complement the production line. When we experiment with different flavours, we take it out and people can sample them..."

No prizes for guessing what I did next.

Buckets was tucked deep inside The Strand, far from the main road and out of sight. Two tables, several seats and barebones decor. The co-founder who calls himself Jay was standing by, "one leg kicking" as he said. He wasted little time, and I was sampling a number of flavours.

Buckets is about cold stuff: ice creams, sorbets and yoghurt-based desserts. Their ice creams are made the gelato way, with fresh raw ingredients. To make it low fat, they use palm-based stuff. They sell their stuff to a few cool customers, which include Ole-Ole Bali, Sushi-Tei and 7ate9.

"We use real fruits and ingredients," said Jay in his sales pitch. "When you eat our sorbets, it's like eating the fruit itself. If you tried similar products from other manufacturers, the first-"

"You'll taste the ice first," I cut in.

"That's right. But here, you taste the fruit first."

He didn't have to try so hard. The cool and refreshing rock melon and passionfruit sorbets released the fruits' aromas as it melted in the mouth. Likewise the banana ice cream. Some of the products had Italian names, which made selection a tad difficult.

I had a double scoop: vanilla and banana. Jay pointed out the black dots in the vanilla ice cream, which I knew were vanilla beans. The real deal. Strawberries from France, Thai honey mangoes, and pisang berangan for their banana ice creams. An ongoing experiment involves stevia, a healthier natural sweetener.

"Try this and tell me what you think," said Jay as he handed me a spoon of chocolate ice cream made with "the finest" dark Belgian chocolate. I cleared my mouth of the other flavours and in it went.

Wow. The chocolate hit the tongue almost immediately and seconds later, the aroma reached my nostrils via my throat.

They choose their raw ingredients based on not just on flavour, but also how the ingredients react to being frozen, then thawed, mixed with milk and blended in. Changes in quality and flavour can occur between box to bucket.

The ice creams were great. The lingering feel of the slick palm-based fat is to be expected - ice creams need some kind of fat in them.

A family walked in and bought a cup or two. Then, a couple waltzed in with a print-out for a Milk-A-Deal redemption. They were similarly sold on many of the flavours, particularly the sorbet and the yoghurt-based thingy with mixed berries. Then Jay mentioned durian.

What? I didn't hear about this.

After the couple leave, I asked for a single scoop of durian. After my two scoops of vanilla and banana.

Jay was incredulous. "Serious?"

Of course. In a year, durian rarely happens.

Of course it was good. It's durian. Buckets, Jay said, only use the expensive maoshanwang varietal.

The durian ice cream was the perfect ending for my incidental visit to this hidden dessert corner. Also a sweet way to end a hectic, draining week. Funny how things just seem to fall into place like that.

So this must be what it's like for Melody when she's having a good day.

---

Premium Buckets Sdn Bhd

38-G & 38-1, Jalan PJU 5/20B
The Strand, Kota Damansara
47810 Petaling Jaya, Selangor

CLOSED FOR GOOD

Review for Revenue?

Carol Hoenig, a freelance writer and publishing consultant, asks whether one should pay to have books reviewed. She expresses guilt over not being able to review every book delivered to her, but stresses that priority must be given to her paying gigs.

"The shame of it is that there are fewer places to have one's book reviewed, thanks to so many publications eliminating the position or having folded altogether," she says at one point.

Hers is perhaps the longest question I've read so far on whether paid reviews are relevant in the age of the digital freebie.

...Probably not.

The modern phenomenon of shrinking attention spans is eating into a lot of the stuff we do, including writing reviews of anything that justifies a paycheque. Nowadays, the gauge to whether a book is good is the number of stars or votes it gets on Amazon, Librarything or Good Reads. In short, "Is this book worth my money and time?"

...Probably not.

Reviews of a book - of anything - are subject to the fancies or foibles of those who pen them. Not everybody thinks Phillip Roth is a writer, and still many others wonder, "How the hell did this book get so-and such prize?" If one has trawled through the 20-odd pages of reviews for a popular book in Amazon before deciding to buy it, chances of a 50/50 "I will like/hate this book" will still be high enough to give pause.

So why write reviews at all?

I suppose it depends on where the review is going to be published.

It's true that the mainstream media nowadays sees little reason to publish book reviews or book-related features, especially when the featured books are not considered commercial successes. In the old, old days when books were relatively a luxury and a bit later, associated with culture and enlightenment, reviewers (or whatever they're called back then), could show off a little by disassembling a book and calling out the author on plot devices, characters and the hidden messages, cutting commentary and whatnot, disguised as a work of literature.

Though that aspect of the reviewer's job remains, modern reviews are geared towards selling books, hence the "balanced" review, even for books one knows are unequivocally bad. Of course, a review for the mainstream media has to be of a certain length, depth and quality for payment to be justified.

But will it be enough to make people care and, maybe, shuffle off to the bookstore to pick up a copy and see if the reviewer is right?

...Probably not.

The increasingly huge freebie pool comes with history's biggest caveat emptor sign. When free doesn't necessarily mean quality or veracity, you'd be a fool to believe everything you read on the web. At home, book reviews tend to be supportive, if not "balanced", so I don't think the question of ethics and "honesty" in one's paid review really applies.

Nevertheless, we should probably be grateful that the mainstream media hasn't given up on books yet. Though it is foolhardy to pay the bills by solely reviewing books, those who still write reviews will have a platform to publish - and maybe an additional, albeit small, income stream.

...And this is the longest preamble to my reply to Ms Hoenig's question.

Which is, should reviews be paid for? By paid reviews, I assume she's not talking about those commissioned by newspapers or magazines, but the freebies gathering dust on her table, which she might review on her blog or web site if... .

...Probably not.

When a publisher, agent or bookstore (chain) sends you a book, it implies that they are confident that your blog, newspaper or online portal can provide some degree of visibility for whatever they send you. It is, I think, not a decision made lightly. Every printed book sent to a reviewer means one less sale, on top of postage. That sort of suggests you should do something with it, even if the letter says you are not obliged to.

Lots of books are released each year and some really good ones get swamped by the buzz over hyped-up commercial successes. Reviewers should take a chance on some books not extensively covered by the press. Not to mention the thrill - and spill - of the gamble when you, if you can, dive into the book pile at a newspaper's HQ.

And if the book is not available in your local bookstores? Who cares? There are no borders in cyberspace. Someone in Poughkeepsie, New York might want to know if that book he's looking up is worth his time and money. Your review could help him decide.

Write the damn review(s). Find the time. Got books you're "not obliged to review"? 500 words, minimum. Maybe less if you're a blogger, or a reviewer at The Independent. Quote some passages to complete the word count. When it's done and posted, that's your obligation, there. That's also material for your blog, and a free book for your bookshelf.

...Probably not a good idea to wait until the book is out of print.

(Disclosure: I have missed deadlines before. You don't need to know how many times. This is not about me.)

I guess the writing of book reviews, along with the reading and writing of books, has always been a labour of love, and we know just how much love pays where cash-strapped, overworked and stress-out freelancers are concerned. Labour of love, or simply a chance to show off one's biblio-forensics skills.

But as long as there's a space for the book review, those who want to, will. If you can spin an entertaining review out of a good (or bad) book, that's even better.

"Can you tell me how?"

...Probably not. That's something you have to discover. Just like what I'm trying to do.

Jolly Good Jaunt

I had fun with these books, I really did.

However, several minor details: The first paragraph was supposed to be the standfirst, and the first letters of "South Extension Amateur Theatrical Society" and "Delhi Institute for Rationalism and Education" were meant to be in bold, in case nobody gets the joke; the initials for both "organisations" spell "SEATS" (as in theatre seats) and "DIRE" (presumably the state of superstition vs rationality in India).

India's CSICOP, meanwhile, is known for its mouthful of a full name: Indian Committee for Scientific Investigation of Claims of the Paranormal (CSICOP), which is an affiliate of the US-based Committee for Skeptical Inquiry (CSI).

Hence, the "fixed" version of the published review below.

Maybe I should have left more clues or something for the editing team.

---

Jolly good jaunt

Reading about the exploits of a Punjabi private detective and his assistants is like taking a fun and fast-paced Indian autorickshaw ride

first published in The Star, 12 June 2011


It's been a while since I've read a good detective story, especially one that's not only action-packed but also has witty writing, fast pacing, and quirky dialogue.

And a memorable lead character like Vishwas Puri. The portly, pompous Punjabi private eye and proprietor of Most Private Investigators Ltd is the protagonist of British journalist-turned-author Tarquin Hall's series of detective novels set in India.

For Puri, danger is his ally (he dices with death with each chilli pakora he eats) and confidentiality is his agency's watchword (never mind his Bollywood dreams for his case files).

Tarquin Hall's Vishwas Puri novels

Being mentioned in the same breath as Johnnies-come-lately Poirot, Holmes, et al (who, like himself, don't really exist) offends him. Puri insists that his profession, his methods, go way back to the time of Indian sage and diplomat Chanakya, who wrote a treatise on spying and investigation over 2,000 years ago. He scoffs at younger competitors who appear to watch too much CSI, dress like Horatio Caine and think the handheld UV light is the ultimate crime-solving tool. Portly he may be, but he's also tough in his own way: Have you ever eaten a naga morich, one of the world's hottest chillies, without flinching?

Good detectives in India don't work alone, so Puri has a team of experts, most of whom are code named. There's Tubelight, a former professional thief; Handbrake, Puri's chauffeur and once-cab driver; Nepali femme fatale Facecream; tech wizard Flush; Ms Chadda, telephone operator of many voices; and Elizabeth Rani, Puri's secretary. At home there's his loyal wife Rumpi and his mum. Puri's mum, known only as Mummy, is a bit of a sleuth herself and is, apparently, something of a clairvoyant.

But this is India, and his talents don't appear to receive great acclaim. Puri languishes in semi-obscurity, largely scorned by the police. His daily bread involves sussing out prospective grooms and numerous petty crimes, when he's not solving major cases such as the Case Of The Laughing Peacock, the Case Of The Pundit With Twelve Toes, and one about a missing polo elephant.

We are thrust into the Case Of The Missing Servant, Hall's first book in the series, in the middle of one such groom-sussing stakeout. Not long after Puri wraps that up, a clean lawyer – a rarity in modern India, it seems – comes a-calling. The lawyer's maidservant is missing and awful rumours of her disappearance are swirling around him. It's not long before the lawyer is jailed for a crime he says he didn't commit – and then someone tries to shoot Puri.

The bigger hazard for our sleuth, however, is his girth, which marks him as a candidate for obesity-related ills, but that has not diminished his love of fiery chillies, pakoras, and other spicy, buttery Indian fare. The Missing Servant also introduces us to India's marriage customs, class divisions and its supposedly shady real estate scene.

We know that Puri survives the assassination attempt, the chillies and cholesterol, because The Case Of The Man Who Died Laughing came out about a year later. The second book highlights the struggle between superstition and science in India, with a bit of sci-fi thrown in. Guru-buster Dr Suresh Jha is killed, seemingly by the four-armed goddess Kali. The murder victim and his association appears to be based on real-life Indian guru-buster, the late Basava Premanand and his rationalist group, the Indian CSICOP (Committee for Scientific Investigation of Claims of the Paranormal).

While Puri and gang are off chasing goddesses, magicians and a fake guru, wife Rumpi and Mummy amuse themselves investigating a robbery at a kitty party (typical ones usually involve middle-aged women gossiping and drinking tea, so fish your minds out of the gutter now, please).

Hall's writing and language grow on you, like an overly chummy Punjabi with a booming voice who wraps a thick hairy arm around your shoulder, hustles you to the nearest bar and plies you with drinks. I found myself wanting to speak in tongues by the time I finished the two books, rolling my tongue outrageously as I aped the characters. Plus, you get more than one case and more than one detective. Mummy holds her own as she pokes her nose into danger – and grows on you as Delhi's answer to Miss Marple or Jessica Fletcher of Murder, She Wrote.

Word play abounds. In The Missing Servant, one chuckles at the shallow pun in the desperate lawyer's plea to "find this bloody Mary!"; Puri's multi-talented telephonist belongs to the South Extension Amateur Theatrical Society. In The Man Who Died Laughing, the late Dr Jha is founder and head of the Delhi Institute for Rationalism and Education. And then there's the running gag that involves Puri getting a knock in the head, either by accident or by an unknown assailant.

Hall's India is one big caricature where circumstances serve the cartoonish narrative and plot. The unsavoury socioeconomical and political climate and unflattering stereotypes help make Puri and gang, victims and the supporting good guys stand out – perhaps a bit too much. Though Puri is not above it all. Problems at home include water and power cuts ("load shedding") and a brother-in-law who fancies himself Punjab's Donald Trump. And our old-fashioned gumshoe bemoans creeping Western influences and declining morals, and believes that mums – and women in general – don't make good detectives.

But you won't care, because you'll have too much fun with these novels. I sure did.

However, there have been no new Vish Puri novels out since The Man Who Died Laughing. It would be a shame for the series to end after such a spectacular take-off. And I really want to know about that missing polo elephant.

---

The Case of the Missing Servant

Tarquin Hall
Arrow Books (2009)
312 pages
Fiction
ISBN: 978-0-09-952523-3

The Case of the Man Who Died Laughing

Tarquin Hall
Hutchinson (2010)
334 pages
Fiction
ISBN: 978-0-09-192567-3

Some Monthly Reads

Some books slated for review in The Star arrived at my desk today, courtesy of the MPH book people.

Mitchell Zuckoff's Lost in Shangri-La (left) and Chan Koonchung's The Fat Years

• Lost in Shangri-La
  A True Story of Survival, Adventure, and
  the Most Incredible Rescue Mission of World War II
  Mitchell Zuckoff
  Harper (2011)
  Non-fiction
  384 pages
  ISBN: 978-0-06-209358-5
• The Fat Years
  The Notorious Novel No-one in China Dared Publish
  Chan Koonchung
  Translated from the Chinese by Michael S Duke
  With a Preface by Julia Lovell
  Doubleday (July 2011)
  Fiction
  307 pages
  ISBN: 9780385619189

The Fat Years will probably be slated for publication in The Star's Monthly Reads in July. And it means I'd better wrap up this month's review.

I haven't been as prolific as I'd like with regards to book reviews. I'm trying to be cautious as well, because writing a review based on first impressions can be a risky proposition.

Guess it's time to get cracking.

The Dulang Washer

Working on this book was fun. That the story is probably one of the better ones we've received so far this year had something to do with it. At posting time, it's still with the printers, hence the cover photo.

We intend to release it this August, but it might be in bookstores as early as next month. For a sneak peek at the novel's backstory, go here.

The Dulang Washer is set in Malaya, in 1890. In the tin-mining camps of Perak’s Kinta Valley, only the strongest and bravest survive. One day, an ox-drawn cart rolls into one such camp. Among the human cargo inside is...

Mee Ling. The young, wilful daughter of a farmer in China, her desire for freedom and independence leads to her abduction and arrival in a foreign land and perhaps a fate worse than death, if not for...

Aisha, who takes the frightened Mee Ling under her wing. Burdened by a secret tragedy and driven by a sacred vow, the mysterious Malay maiden labours as a dulang washer to support two families, while staying above the mine’s politics and fending off the advances of the mine’s unscrupulous proprietor...

Fook Sin, who has enriched himself at the expense of the mining camp's indentured labourers. He sees the camp as his fiefdom and will brook no opposition to his rule. He also covets Aisha, whom he hopes to add to his stash of secretly hoarded treasures. However, his reign will soon be threatened by...

Donald Redfern, a former British army officer who left his country for the chance to better his young family's life. Sent to the mine as its new overseer, Redfern finds succour from his loneliness and homesickness in Aisha's language lessons and small gestures of compassion. But he will also clash with...

Hun Yee, a young Hakka miner whose recent victory against his opium addiction allows him to once again pursue his dreams of being the boss of his own mine. But when he acts against a fellow miner’s unjust punishment, he inadvertently challenges Redfern’s authority and piques the interest of both Mee Ling and Aisha.

Of all the myriad hazards of the mining camp, which will prove to be the more dangerous: Fook Sin’s desire to cling to power and his ill-gotten wealth, or Redfern's growing obsession with Aisha, which she'd unwittingly fuelled with her kindness? And what will this mean for Hun Yee's dream, Aisha's vow and Mee Ling's hunger for freedom?


Paul Callan was born in Dublin, Ireland. His love of storytelling was fuelled while attending Chanel College in North Dublin. As a young man in London, he abandoned his first attempt at becoming a novelist in pursuit of a business career. After marrying his Malaysian wife, he visited Malaysia many times, and fell in love with the country and its people. He now divides his time between his homes in Kuala Lumpur and London. The Dulang Washer is his first novel.

---

The Dulang Washer

An Epic Tale of Love, Valour and Secrets

Paul Callan
MPH Group Publishing
388 pages
Fiction
ISBN: 978-967-5997-55-6

Web site

Buy from Kinokuniya | MPHOnline.com

A Monsoon Blows In

"This is a true story of 1930s Malaysia, of jungle operations, submarines and spies in WWII, and of the postwar Malayan Emergency, as experienced by an extraordinary man."

Days ago, out of the blue, Monsoon Books offered me books to review or feature in the media. A package from them came last Friday, but I was not informed until yesterday evening.

Malayan Spymaster: Memoirs of a Rubber Planter, Bandit Fighter and Spy is the story of Boris Hembry, a British rubber planter who joined the fight against the Japanese occupiers in World War II as an intelligence officer and later, the communist insurgents during the Emergency.

Hembry's memoirs were written for his family and not meant for publication, but they felt that his life in Malaya and his struggles deserved a much wider readership.

"We dedicate it to those expatriates of many generations whose devotion to that beautiful country and its peoples helped to lay the foundations of present-day peaceful and prosperous Malaysia," writes Hembry's son, John in the preface. Boris Hembry passed on in September 1990.

My thanks to Monsoon Books for what promises to be an interesting read, and many thanks to the family of the late Boris Hembry for their generosity in sharing his extraordinary story.

A Subtle Degree Of Restraint

At a series of creative writing workshops under the British Council Creative Cities programme, run with UK-based writer development organisation Spread The Word, participants looked to the energy and character of the city of Kuala Lumpur for inspiration. The stories in this collection are the results of those workshops.

Creative Cities is a British Council project set up in 2008 and was developed in 15 countries in Europe. It provides a platform and a toolkit which can be used by individuals and organisations to help improve their cities.

Spread The Word, with the assistance of established professional writers, helps writers reach their full potential through workshops, mentoring schemes and other activities.

Most of the stories take place in KL, or were inspired by KL. In an urban restaurant, a woman is irked by the presence of a huge round vase as she explores love and weight loss. Will the vase survive? ...And how delicious are those after-lunch mochi?

A married woman struggles with her husband's infidelity and forbidden feelings for a neighbour's teenage son. One outlet for her frustrations involves the desperate housewife fantasies she writes on her computer. How will this play out?

As she swaps stories with her friends at a swanky Bangsar joint, an uptown woman learns something that sours the sweetness in her little secret. Shock! Horror! Will she consign the little package she's carrying into the dustbin?

A timid teacher finds the courage to stand up for what's right. But troubles at home threatens to turn her workplace triumph into a pyrrhic victory. Despite a flu, a man at Amritsar is awed by the vision of loveliness he guides in a search for the mysterious beauty's roots, miles away from home. She finds what she's looking for, but has he?

Across the city, viewers following a tacky game show witness an unassuming contestant's spectacular victory and watch her humiliation as the prize for her efforts is revealed. A crowd gathering at the scene of a drowning brings a man back into his childhood and the tragic death of a schoolmate.

A Subtle Degree of Restraint and Other Stories is published by MPH Group Publishing and will be available in all major bookstores.

---

A Subtle Degree of Restraint and Other Stories

Various Authors
MPH Group Publishing
138 pages
Fiction
ISBN: 978-967-5997-47-1

Buy from MPHOnline.com

Look, Books!

...because my brain, like Odo the Changeling from Star Trek: TNG, is still reconstituting from the weekend and is unable to come up with snazzy titles.

Last Friday, someone from books distributor Pansing dropped by. Earlier, we passed them a copy of a book we could not distribute for some reason or another, hoping they could. We received that copy today, but that book's status is still unclear. I hope to have some good news regarding it soon.

Some new books from Pansing

They also left us with a bagful of books, three of which were passed to me. My weekend reading list may soon spill over to my weekdays...

• The Poison Tree
  Erin Kelly
  Hodder and Stoughton (2010)
  Fiction
  359 pages (with Prologue for The Sick Rose)
  ISBN: 978-1-444-70106-7
• Inside Wikileaks
  My Time with Julian Assange at the World's Most Dangerous Website
  Daniel Domscheit-Berg and Tina Klopp
  Jonathan Cape (2011)
  Non-Fiction/Current Affairs/Political
  282 pages
  ISBN: 978-0-224-09401-6
• The Plantation
  Di Morrissey
  Pan Macmillan Australia (2010)
  Fiction
  458 pages
  ISBN: 978-1-4050-3998-7

Okay, so not all of them are "new" new, but new enough. We will have to do something with some, if not all, of these books.

Times Of Turmoil

Some may complain about books that's clean, not exciting and all that. In short, boring. That was my very first impression of this collection. But I returned to it weeks later and was amazed at the shift in my perception.

How many weeks later? I'm not sharing.

As a result, I may have been... effusive in my praise of the book. But after rolling around in what passes for journalism these days, what a gust of fresh air!

Something to keep firmly in mind.

---

Times of turmoil

A deft touch conveys stories of upheaval without resorting to unrealistic extremes

first published in The Star, 03 June 2011


Isn't today's media action-packed? Blood and guts, bullets and bombs, skin and sex, and reality TV shows where f-bombs drop like names at a socialites' ball. And it seems as though whole sections in bookstores both real and virtual have been taken over by genres that combines elements of all the above and then some.

I wonder if it is perhaps in reaction to this trend that publishers Marshall Cavendish have re-released something cleaner and calmer.

Born in 1951 in Rangoon, Burma (now Yangon, Myanmar), to parents of Chinese descent, Minfong Ho was raised in Thailand and graduated from America's prestigious Cornell University with a bachelor's degree in economics. She became a journalist, and then taught English at Thailand's Chiang Mai University. She currently resides in New York with her family.

During her first years at Cornell, she turned to writing to fight her homesickness. Her short story, Sing To The Dawn, won a prize and was later expanded into a novel published in 1975. She would go on to write more novels and story collections. Rice Without Rain (1986) was based on her experiences with Thailand's turbulent politics in the 1970s, and her times as an aid volunteer helping Cambodian refugees during the Vietnamese invasion of Cambodia inspired The Clay Marble (1991).

Marshall Cavendish has compiled these three works into a single volume, The Minfong Ho Collection. All three novels feature young Thai or Cambodian village lasses whose daily struggles are compounded by bigger forces intruding upon their little worlds.

In Sing To The Dawn, we are introduced to Dawan, a brilliant, headstrong student who wins a scholarship and a chance to study in a big-city school.

However, she faces objections from her parents and the apathy and fatalism of her fellow villagers, all of whom seem to view the idea of a girl getting educated as something radical. Her so-called blessing also drives a wedge between her and her brother.

Seventeen-year-old Jinda gets caught up in Thailand's student-led democracy movement in the 1970s in Rice Without Rain.

A group of university students arrive at her village, bringing with them the promise of change. Brought to the city, ostensibly to speak out against greedy landlords, Jinda soon learns that she is but a pawn in a bigger struggle, and that the price of change may be too high to pay.

The Clay Marble's 12-year-old Dara has lived through two "liberation" campaigns: one led by the Khmer Rouge against the Cambodian royals, and the other by Vietnamese forces fighting the previous regime. When the Khmer Rouge's reign crumbles, she and her family join the refugees fleeing towards the Thai-Cambodia border. Along the way, Dara meets a fellow refugee with a knack for making toys out of clay. But the peace she finds in a refugee camp along the border is eventually shattered when the war finally catches up.

What's refreshing about these three works is how unremarkable they look at first glance. Ho doesn't dramatise the human tragedies with graphic depictions of wartime atrocities – something that seems to be de rigueur nowadays in print, on TV and online.

Unlike the reports filed by some of those "celebrity" journalists on 24-hour "news channels", the subjects take centre stage, not the writer. Ho's use of simple, unadorned language does not detract from the respect and sensitivity she shows her characters and their world, and the gravity of the issues the young heroines face.

Gender and class discrimination, corruption, superstition versus modernity, and the callousness of the powers-that-be in their bid to maintain the status quo become all the more poignant when one sees that little has changed in these countries since these works were first published in the 1970s and 1980s.

In this collection, Ho does not shed excessive blood, rip bodices or curse like a flotilla of pirates to tell her tales. She doesn't have to. The deft touch of her pen, tempered by first-hand experience, brings to life the voices and the pain of these three village girls, and that alone is enough. Though meant for children and young adults, readers of all ages will find this honest, easy read almost like journalism at its finest.

---

The Minfong Ho Collection

Minfong Ho
Marshall Cavendish Editions
399 pages
Fiction
ISBN: 978-981-4302-45-6

Everyone Loves You When You're Dead

It's been a long while since one of these showed up in the papers, but better late than never, I suppose. No surprise, given that the paper in question was undergoing a revamp at the time.

When you've just submitted a book review, it's very hard to resist the temptation of reading what other reviewers at international papers think about the book. Look how John Crace's "Digested Reads" at The Guardian sums up Everyone Loves You. The impression I got is that nobody likes the book at all.

I abhor the media circus around celebrities, even if it is part of the game. Fame is a fickle thing, and it can all go away in an instant. If you take away the bling, the wealth, the on-screen persona - the celebrity - would that person still be attractive?

So Strauss's bibliography includes a pornstar's memoirs and accounts of his experiences with a bunch of pick-up artists. And maybe Everyone Loves You does look like it's slapped together from bits scavenged from the cutting room floor. That doesn't mean everything he writes should be dismissed. The paparazzi have been telling us for years what Strauss seems to be getting at with this book: celebrities are human. They have bad days, they make mistakes, and they can buckle under pressure. And they should (probably) be allowed to do that without being so harshly judged.

The part about Paul Nelson is particularly poignant, even with the seemingly put-on Hemingway-esque reference to the baby shoes. Also notable are the eleven points of his "instructions for living", based on the interviews in the book. The strange title is explained in Point #11. Buy it to find out. Get the discount coupon.

---

Reminder to be happy

first published in The Star, 29 May 2011


"In memory of Johnny Cash, Curtis Mayfield, and Bo Diddley, all of whom died between the time of being interviewed and the publication of this book. And for all those who are going to die afterward." With a dedication like that, you know the book is going to be good.

As a pop culture journalist, author and ghostwriter, Neil Strauss had, among other things, fired off guns with rapper Ludacris, been kidnapped by Courtney Love, made Lady Gaga cry, received Scientology lessons from Tom Cruise, tucked Christina Aguilera into bed, and more.

And now, he feels it's time to do justice to his subjects, using over 200 handpicked minutes out of his trove of unused interview material. "Instead of looking for the pieces that broke news or sold the most magazines or received the best feedback, I searched for the truth or essence behind each person, story, or experience." Strauss writes, and insists that one minute is enough. "You can tell a lot about somebody in a minute. If you choose the right minute."

Though one isn't sure about the veracity of the one-right-minute theory, Everyone Loves You When You're Dead is one very not-safe-for-work display of dark humour, a mishmash of often funny and revealing anecdotes, Q&As, and narratives. Equally funny conversations with music lawyers and copy editors add to the experience, which is balanced by the sombre extracts from obituaries Strauss has written.

While the caricatures and the old-style newspaper look gels with the eclectic, eccentric content, the unlabelled "selected visual index" is useless to those who can't match the faces to the names; the real index, meanwhile, is a litany of horrors. Reading is rough sailing, with many interviews broken up into parts "to be continued" in later pages.

It's hard to guess whether this is one of those name-dropping memoirs, or a genuine attempt to hold a mirror up in front of his subjects, his peers, himself, and the entire American entertainment industry. I think Everyone Loves You is meant to be more serious than satire, but it has moments of hilarity. Look out for Twilight heartthrob Taylor Lautner's one-line replies when drilled about his "squeaky-clean reputation", and how singer-songwriter Ryan Adams ends his answers with an F-bomb. A running joke involves Pharrell Williams of the hip-hop outfit The Neptunes constantly rescheduling his interview; also, learn how Justin Timberlake saved the day.

Two celebrity illustrations from Everyone Loves You When
You're Dead; know who they are?

Whatever doubts one has in the author's motives for the book is dispelled by his piece on a predecessor: former Rolling Stone record reviews editor Paul Nelson (1936–2006). Strauss admits that it was hard to pen, and not just because of his respect for the late Nelson and the people who would read it. "Every word brought me closer to my own cautionary tale – or that of any writer, creative person, or dedicated follower of art, entertainment, or culture. Because it makes you ask: In the end, is it worth it?"

Probably not for Nelson. The man who'd done so much for the likes of Bob Dylan and Rod Stewart died alone and broke. A pair of baby shoes that belonged to Nelson's son, found hanging near his bed, still haunts Strauss: "... because as someone who's sacrificed personal relationships for the pursuit of culture and career, I know what (those shoes) symbolize: the regret of someone who has spent his entire life with his priorities wrong." I could say the same about many of today's pop culture vultures.

Just as we're overdosing on "tiger blood", "winning" and whatnot, here comes this timely reminder of the humanity behind the hype. Among the most poignant are the interviews with those that have since made it big or got bigger, bounced back from whatever hole they dug for themselves, or passed on. Almost every obituary made me think of our own late great P. Ramlee.

The book ends with a toast to "the artists, celebrities, and crazy people of the world" who, often inadvertently, screwed themselves up for our benefit. "Thank you not just for keeping us entertained with your mistakes, but for reminding us to be happy with who we are."

Amen.

---

Everyone Loves You When You’re Dead

Journeys into Fame and Madness

Neil Strauss
It Books (2011)
544 pages
Non-Fiction
ISBN: 978-0-06-154367-8

Eight Treasures of The Dragon

Things have been a bit slow in the publishing department, but the pace is picking up. A new book came off the presses on... Thursday (or was it Friday?), and a couple more will be out within a month or two.

After Eight Jewels of the Phoenix and Eight Fortunes of the Qilin, comes the latest compilation of retold tales by Tutu Dutta-Yean, Eight Treasures of the Dragon.

Cover for Eight Treasures of the Dragon (left) and one of the
book's illustrated frontispieces

Cute cover, isn't it? Like the type that graces supernatural chick-lit for tweens? A slight departure from the layouts of the previous books' covers, but good-looking nonetheless.

As in the volumes before it, Eight Treasures presents eight stories involving the most famous and perhaps most powerful and ubiquitous of all the mythical creatures. From the Far East to Europe and all the way to the jungles of Central America, the dragon has been part of indigenous lore for a very long time.

A page from Eight Treasures of the Dragon

Among Dutta-Yean's eight draconian treasures is a frosty green pearl, sought by an earnest young adventurer looking to save his village from a meteor-induced drought; an enchanted water barrel used by a regal dragon couple seeking revenge for the loss of their home; a dragon's "secret name", gifted to the monastery acolyte who saved its life; a dragon's egg that dooms a man to a life as a scaly leviathan, and the possible corpse of another dragon whose curse snares the man's son.

Also in the book is the reinterpreted tale of Nyi Roro Kidul, a princess who became the spiritual Queen of the Southern Sea of Java. The Samudra Beach Hotel at Pelabuhan Ratu (Queen's Harbour) in Java was said to have been built near the site where she threw herself into the sea in an attempt to rid herself of a horrible curse. She is usually depicted as a smoking hot woman in green (her favourite colour), sometimes with a dragon's tail - not unlike the dracaena in Greek mythology.

Perhaps in keeping with the customs of previous Javanese rulers, former prime minister Sukarno had room 308 of this hotel done up in a green theme and ordered it kept empty in case Her Spiritual Majesty decided to visit. Bathers in that part of the sea are advised against wearing green, because she is said to find the colour... "irresistible".

Yes, that's her on the cover.


Eight Treasures of the Dragon, retold by Dutta-Yean and illustrated by Tan Vay Fern, is published by MPH Group Publishing and available in all major bookstores.

---

Eight Treasures of the Dragon

retold by Tutu Dutta-Yean
illustrated by Tan Vay Fern
MPH Group Publishing
160 pages
Fiction
ISBN: 978-967-5997-29-7

Buy from MPHOnline.com

Vanishing Flavours

"When pestle meets mortar, aromas are released, flavours blend and appetites are whetted. The pungent scent of freshly pounded spices mixes with the smell of burning charcoal in the kitchen, bringing the warmth and promise of a traditional home-cooked meal made with love."

Shortly after my interview at MPH, I was given an assignment: Suggest the back cover text for what was then an upcoming cookbook for Peranakan dishes. Mortar and Pestlebecame my first project as an MPH books editor.

It didn't take long to write the copy, since I looked at my own memories of an old-school kitchen. I remember the kerosene smell and the smoke from the charcoal stove and Mom's sambal belacan, made the old way using the mortar and pestle. The sambal was so good, it went into almost everything.

Does this make me a watered-down Peranakan? I've been wondering about that.

Working on this cookbook took me down memory lane a few times. The author's own recollections of her formative years, one much like my own, brought back that electric effervescence of childhood Chinese New Years, primary school, childhood games and so on. One time, while editing the manuscript, I found myself back under the huge saga tree near home, hunting for its jewel-like, bright red seeds. Good thing I didn't swallow any of them; it never occurred to me that the seeds are toxic.

I did a whole lot of research for Mortar and Pestle, and learned a lot as well. Of course, the editing process wasn't smooth sailing all the way, and I have to concur with much of what was raised in the review. All I can say is, as I will say about current and future projects, is that I and everyone else involved did our best, given the circumstances then.

Overall, it's not a bad book. Mostly cookbook, partly memoir, and all Peranakan. And with my copy, I have a handy reference for some simple Peranakan recipes to try; a nearby Jaya Grocer has all the ingredients for black glutinous rice dessert.

Of course, not all Peranakan dishes are included here. Some of the recipes look simple, but one asks if the iPad generation, so used to things happening at the push of a button or three, would deign to lift a mortar to pound chillies for sambal belacan.

Even if I do find the time and place to reconnect with my roots, I doubt I'll ever make a sambal belacan or nyonya-style chicken curry that's as good as Mom's... or Dad's.


From Angelina Teh comes this repository of the author's fondest Peranakan kitchen memories. Featuring recipes and other culinary heirlooms handed down to the author by her elders, Mortar and Pestle: Aromas from A Peranakan Kitchen documents Teh's efforts to preserve the essence of Peranakan cuisine.

Teh was so inspired by the delectable Straits Chinese dishes and delicacies her grandmothers used to cook that she decided to honour the legacy of her grandmothers by documenting these recipes for posterity.

Though trained in art and design, she now enjoys the more challenging task of caring for her toddler. Teh lives in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia.

---

Mortar & Pestle

Aromas from a Peranakan Kitchen

Angelina Teh
MPH Group Publishing
183 pages
Non-fiction
ISBN: 978-967-5997-20-4

Buy from MPHOnline.com

The Hantu, The Witch and The Sampan

It was hinted that this series of junior readers' books on Dayak lore will be styled according to CS Lewis's Narnia Chronicles.

Sceptical? Don't knock it till you read it. We sometimes are so enamoured of foreign culture, we neglect the possibility that our own backyard might have cultural threads that can be re-woven into something that's just as marketable.

Cover for Miyah and the Forest Demon (left) and an illustration
in the book featuring Miyah's father, the shaman Raseh

Centuries ago in Borneo, a great shaman named Jugra battled a particularly powerful demon. Though unable to destroy it, the shaman somehow imprisoned the demon within the vicinity of what would be his grave.

Fast forward to the 17th century. The Portuguese have been driven out of Malacca, and the Dutch have moved in. At a longhouse in a village called Tapoh, a shaman gives thanks to the spirits for a bountiful harvest, unaware that an uninvited guest has gatecrashed the party. The spirits he channels have no good news for him, either, leaving the assembled with an ominous warning: "Beware the Jugra blood..."

Young Tanjungpura noble Nila pursues Endu Dara, the chieftain's daughter (left),
and Miyah (at the back) and her friend Suru take Miyah's boat for a spin

The next day, the shaman's daughter Miyah, awakens to her 13th birthday, and a visit by dignitaries from not-quite-faraway Tanjungpura. Amidst news of brewing political strife in that region, a young Tanjungpura nobleman proposes to the chieftain's daughter. Miyah is also given a boat, and learns more about her half-Chinese friend Suru.

But Miyah isn't quite ready for the responsibilities that entail her adulthood. Ditching her task to watch over her younger brother Bongsu, she runs off to play with her friends at the river.

But later, when rain falls from a sunny sky, Miyah fears the worst, and returns to find her brother missing. With the help of her cousin, the young village outcast Rigih, she starts looking for Bongsu.

What happened to Miyah's brother? What's with Rigih's gift for talking to certain animals? And what does Bongsu's disappearance, Miyah's bloodline, and Tapoh's history have to do with the uninvited guest during the harvest celebration - and the evil lurking deep in a shadowy forest, chained to Jugra's mound by the ancient shaman's magic?


The first of what will become The Jugra Chronicles, Miyah and the Forest Demon, should be at all bookstores by now.

Material for this series is by Tutu Dutta-Yean, whose repertoire includes fairy tale collections such as Timeless Tales of Malaysia, Eight Jewels of the Phoenix, Eight Fortunes of the Qilin, and the upcoming Eight Treasures of the Dragon.

Illustrations for this book are by Choong Kwee Kim of such books as Ah Fu The Rickshaw Coolie and The Wildlife Watcher.

---

The Jugra Chronicles: Miyah and The Forest Demon

Tutu Dutta-Yean
illustrated by Choong Kwee Kim
MPH Group Publishing
153 pages
Fiction
ISBN: 978-967-5997-28-0

Buy from MPHOnline.com

The next instalment in The Jugra Chronicles is currently scheduled for release early next year.

Once More, Reading Readings

I don't know if there's a need to post this again, as there isn't much difference between the original post and the final published version, but this blog is supposed to be a showcase of most of my published stuff, so here it is.

Besides, it includes a review for the book, which should've been published as an Amazon customer review - if the conditions for publishing one weren't so tight. Among all locally published books, this probably ranks amongst the country's most publicised publications.

Note: The official response to this article has been received and will be published in the upcoming issue of Quill. With that, I hope the issue(s) arising from my article will be put to rest.

I have since disabled comments for this post. One comment has been removed, as requested by its author. My thanks to all commenters for their input, which I shall take into consideration.

---

Reading Readings

From the launch of a collection of "new Malaysian writing", it seems the Malaysian literary cauldron is, finally, starting to boil. But is the recipe complete? What else needs to go in? ALAN WONG looks into the pages of this collection and ponders those questions, and more

First published in the Apr-Jun 2011 issue of MPH Quill


The Black Box at MAP@Publika, Solaris Dutamas was the scene for the launch of Readings from Readings, a compilation of selected works that were read at live literary events Readings@Seksan's and CeritAku@No Black Tie. The 25 February launch was part of the LiFest at MAP@Publika. Part of the proceeds from whatever sales made during LiFest went to Yayasan Orang Kurang Upaya Kelantan (Kelantan Foundation for the Disabled or YOKUK).

Copies of Readings from Readings for sale at the launch

Multitalented poet, writer, and lecturer Bernice Chauly founded Readings, which creative writing teacher Sharon Bakar said began at the Darling Muse Art Gallery about six years ago. Readings eventually moved house to Seksan's and has remained there since. When Bernice could no longer manage the monthly event, it was bequeathed to Sharon, who continues to manage it today. Bernice went on to start CeritAku in 2008.

About 400 new, aspiring and established Malaysian, Singaporean and expatriate writers, poets, and performers have been hosted by Readings and CeritAku combined. From the number of works that have been read thus far, it is hoped that the compilation will be the first of several volumes coming out from these two events.


Lots of books, and those who write them
The crowd was starting to trickle in when I went to MAP@Publika after dinner. It seemed as though everybody was there that night. Jeremy Chin is still hawking his first novel, Fuel. Haslinda Usman had her very own table for her late father's books. Saras Manickam had a copy of Unimagined autographed by its author, Imran Ahmad. Damyanti Ghosh bought a copy of Readings from Readings, and contributor Leon Wing signed his piece in the book.

Buonasera, Mr Brian Gomez! Welcome back from Italy. And why does Amir Muhammad always seem to be selling books lately? Jordan Macvay was by himself that night. Not only was the traffic bad, he couldn't locate Publika. Many of those I spoke to would express similar sentiments. And who can possibly miss Karl Hutchinson? The man can pick himself out of a crowd.

Traditional Malay folk ensemble Dewangga Sakti opened the event with a few numbers followed by the obligatory ribbon-cutting by Bernice and Sharon. Then, selected readers took the stage to read from their pieces in the book. I did not stay for the serving of Panda Head Curry (the politically incorrect band) scheduled afterwards, as it was late.


"...not one or the other..."
"Malaysian writing is not one or the other; it is one and the other."

Well spoken, Bernice. Looking around the multiracial, multinational throng at Publika that night, it’s hard to disagree. However, if this bunch, with so many of the same old faces is considered representative of the Malaysian literary circle and its supporters, then I worry for its future.

The organisers want literary events such as Readings to be inclusive and welcoming, but by design or sheer coincidence, the opposite happens. First, the choice of venues. Places such as Seksan’s and Publika can be hard to find, even with Google Maps. Second, the recurring appearance of "the same old faces". Increased participation by less mainstream writers, poets, and musicians seems to have changed little. Many attendees, who tend to know each other, end up forming little solar systems whose dynamics tend to shut out newcomers or guests. This enforces the impression of the Readings crowd as an impenetrable, tight-knit clique that is hard to enter or get close to.

Editors Sharon Bakar (left) and Bernice Chauly officially launch the book

A writer I know has refused numerous invitations to literary events. "I just feel out of place," was the explanation. Pressed for a more details, she finally said, "Whatever they may aspire to be, the plain fact is Readings invariably attracts the same old names. It's a literati's Ivy League. How do you encourage growth and participation when newcomers feel judged not long after they step through the door? That can’t be healthy."

I suspect it has a lot to do with the encounters she had with "award-winning" authors at a previous Readings session. One dragged an e-mail interview over several weeks for no apparent reason. Another author she’d written so glowingly about wrote lifestyle off as "the easy beat". "Do they even know what’s involved in lifestyle writing? Or, for that matter, ads and corporate writing?" she’d huffed.

What about the aspiring writers? Students of creative writing programmes or English language courses, for instance, can benefit from such live literary events – but do they attend them? From the volume of Internet comments, blogs and letters to newspapers, Malaysians can be considered a vocal bunch. So why does it seem so hard to find smashingly good writers in such a huge pool of voices? Where Readings is concerned, doors are opened, and Facebook announcements posted. Why the difficulty in finding contributors and audiences?

A possible factor, I think, is our socio-political climate. Our society in general doesn’t regard literature or the arts as a means to a prosperous future, and the school of thought that dismisses such pursuits as "highbrow" still persists. And we know how the powers-that-be feel about vocal people. Don’t these walls separate us into "the ones" and "the others": those who are writing, and those who wish to write? How can we unearth more new talent under such conditions?

Writing is more than grammar, ethics, e-books vs dead trees, and Eats, Shoots, and Leaves, and more than Booker longlists, shortlists and prizes, and a plug by The New York Times. It’s not enough to simply throw open doors and arms, and plant signboards that point the way. You need more accessible doorways (Google Maps not required), and hearts must be open as well. We need to make the newcomers welcome and help them mature and improve without inadvertently cutting them down to size or leaving them out of the big picture.

Writers are human. Sometimes, people forget. Sometimes, writers forget, too.

---

Readings from Readings is a selection of mostly short stories and poems from six years of Readings at two of Malaysia’s live literary events. This collection is supposed to best represent the pool of work the editors refer to as "new Malaysian writing". The editors refuse to categorise the stories by genre, form, or where the writers were born – a sentiment echoed by the nature of this collection.

Readers will find works in two of Malaysia’s mainly spoken languages: Malay and English, including some poetry about jellyfish, salt, and joy (at least, I think so) and a story that really isn’t about saving marriages. An English poem is given a Malay title. Like Forrest Gump’s box of chocolates, it has a bit of everything: fiction and non-fiction, with elements of funny, sexy, heartbreaking, gut-wrenching, disturbing, and everything in between.

Within the pages: Well-known cat lady Ellen Whyte tells us why Malaysian cats have kinky tails. The cat in Uthaya Sankar’s satirical feline fable, meanwhile, manages to get hired by a government department. Reza Rosli sends chills down our spines when he recalls a mugging that threatens to get worse. Kam Raslan serves up a titillating whiff of a possible sequel to his fantastically funny Confessions of an Old Boy. And of course, poems by singer-songwriter Jerome Kugan, and poets Sharanya Manivannan and Alina Rastam, plus many, many more.

However, it might be a bit late to call this collection of Malaysian writing "new". It has been six years, and many of the "new" names within have since made their mark on the literary scene at home and abroad. Though the contents appear fresh and, to my understanding, not published elsewhere, staunch followers of Malaysian writing won’t be able to see much that distinguishes this collection from others of its ilk.

However, to those who are curious about the kind of stuff being written from and about this far-flung corner of the world by other than Rani Manicka, Tash Aw, and Preeta Samarasan, try reading some readings from Readings.

---

Readings from Readings

New Malaysian Writing

Edited by Bernice Chauly and Sharon Bakar
Word Works Sdn Bhd (2011)
198 pages
Fiction
ISBN: 978-967-10292-0-6

Wee's Wee People

Once upon a time in an unnamed Enid Blytonesque Malaysian town near the sea, a little lady in her early teens called Sylvia lived with her eccentric, unconventional mom, Marjorie.

Wee Su May's Nine Little People Who Lived in a Chest

Adventures in Sylvia's life as the daughter of a single parent include enduring her mom's chatter, peculiar dress sense and occasional exotic culinary experiments such as durian custard and dishes with Brussels sprouts, peas and... stuff.

Things get exciting for Sylvia when her mom brings home an old wooden chest with little people carved on it. On the night she's given the chest, the little people come to life. The chest and its Lilliputian family, enchanted hand-me-downs whose purpose is the happiness of its owners, give Sylvia some lessons on custodianship and help bring her closer to her mom.

One day, however, the little people start to age, and the process appears irreversible as it creeps towards its logical conclusion. From Tuktu, the head of the little family, she learns that the wooden chest was once a bigger one that also held the family of Tuktu's brother, a medicine man and the key to reversing their ageing process.

Sylvia is naturally nonplussed. She had only begun learning how to sew, shop, cook and hide things from her mom; how is she ever going to save a family of enchanted little people?


After graduating from the University of York in 1995, Wee Su May now teaches creative writing to international students in Kuala Lumpur, where she lives with her husband and daughter. This is her first book.

---

Nine Little People Who Lived in a Chest

Wee Su May
MPH Group Publishing
Children's Fiction
209 pages
ISBN: 978-967-5997-19-8

Buy from MPHOnline.com

Stuff in HOMEDEC and MPH Quill

Not many know that the MPH Group also publishes magazines, and that Quill isn't the only one. HOMEDEC, for instance, is an interior design and home living magazine.

The My Cookbook assignment was originally intended for HOMEDEC, which only required details about the design concept, not the food. Since we didn't have a food magazine, the place's cuisine ended up in The Star.

"Not a kopitiam", HOMEDEC Apr-Jun 2011 which features
the interiors of My Cookbook at Sunway Giza

Meanwhile, another version of the post on the launch of Readings from Readings was published in the current issue of Quill for April-June, 2011, along with a micro-review of the book.

Readings from Readings, the launch and the book, in
Quill Apr-Jun 2011

I had quite a bit to say about the state of the country's literary scene after attending the launch, and I was glad for the new faces that appeared in April's session of Readings @ Seksan's. Hoping for more new readers and writers in future Readings sessions.

Old Book, New Cover

There is a book in the Tunku Abdul Rahman Memorial. A really huge book. In its pages is the abridged story of how Tunku and gang won our independence from the British.

The pages, however, are not real. In all likelihood it is a Flash interface, projected on the static surface of a book-like construct that relies on motion-detecting sensors to let visitors interact with it. The interface takes some time to master. I should know - I played with it. Besides text and pictures, it also contains playable video clips.

Did I have a brush with an e-book - or a version of the e-book - during my trip through time back then?

As the debate over the future of paper-based publishing and the advent of e-book technology swirls, some are hauling out the next e-book concept. Not just electronic books, but "enhanced" electronic books. Things that look and feel like the one in Tunku's Memorial.

What would an enhanced e-book of The Lord of the Rings look like, for instance? It might, for starters, have video clips for epic scenes: Helm's Deep, Gollum's (and Sauron's) End, and Frodo's departure. Audio clips of how those names or words in Sindarin are pronounced. Interactive images of Anduril, the One Ring, or Bilbo Baggin's home, Bag End.

You know what? That fits the description of such an enhanced e-book mentioned in an online CNN article. Consider the plans for an e-book for The Chronicles of Narnia: Voyage of the Dawn Treader:

...it's also cresting a wave of enhanced electronic books as one of the most high-profile literary works to take advantage of the new abilities of readers such as Apple's iPad and other tablet computers.

Released by HarperCollins and available this week for several tablets and smartphones, "Dawn Treader" will include features such as embedded video, read-along audio clips, trivia games and full-color images.

It also includes a map of the fantasy land of Narnia (a feature creators say was one of the most requested by fans), a blueprint of the magical sailing ship the "Dawn Treader" and a guide to the creatures and people in the book.

Or, in the words of HarperCollins, it "targets multiple senses to create an innovative and exciting way to experience Narnia on e-reading technology."

In the same article was news about Simon & Schuster's "first enhanced e-book", Rick Perlstein's "Nixonland," for the iPad, which includes an interview with the author and historic video clips from CBS News.

...So an "enhanced e-book" is something I can view online, like, a web site? An "interactive" web site? Or something I can find in a paper book, like, an "interactive" CD-ROM, DVD or Blu-Ray disc?

Amazing, isn't it, what some "new" things are actually old.

Another e-book program is the Libroid, which:

...currently runs only on Apple's iPad tablet computer, splits the traditional book page into three columns, allowing authors space to annotate their text with footnotes, images, maps, videos and web links.

...Page numbers are abandoned in favor of a percentage bar that tells readers where they are.

Interactive elements allow readers to make their own comments on virtual book clubs that can be linked up to the text. It also offers authors the possibility of updating their own work (something that U.S. author Jonathan Franzen might appreciate after the wrong draft of his latest novel was published in the UK).

That sounds a bit more useful than the other "enhanced e-book". But I'm not comparing apples with cantaloupes here.

One allure of the book - any book, perhaps - is how it allows the reader's allusions a bit more reign. When we read about people, places, events, the scenes unfurl in our heads, almost like a movie. Pictures and sounds may fill the gaps in the imagination but once that's done with, is there any point in reading a book anymore?

Is there a point to the book anymore?

The "e-book" is something that may have emerged a long time ago - when the web site was invented. Vanity home page sites of old such as Geocities (RIP) and today's blogging platforms are already letting us publish online, even if blogs don't "look like" books. So who are they to tell us what a book is and should be?

Novelties such as the advertised add-ons of the "enhanced" e-book may be welcomed by certain people. There's definitely a need for interactivity in academia and education, particularly in history, the sciences, the arts, and medicine, for instance. Just don't sell them "enhanced e-books", "augmented e-books", or whatever. 

But the way things are going, the next steps in the evolution of the e-book will see it resemble handheld interactive TVs. Or PCs. Nothing "new" or "enhanced" about that.

Head In The Clouds

Wow. Google had plans for a Dropbox or Skydrive of their own? So why haven't we heard about it?

Because it was shelved. It seems Google saw no point in a dedicated online file storage facility when cloud computing meant that files can be stored online when they are created or being edited in the cloud. Besides, said Sundar Pichai, senior vice president of Chrome, "Files are so 1990s. I don’t think we need files anymore."

What? Not need files anymore? ...Why?

"Think about it," said Pichai in that article. "You just want to get information into the cloud. When people use our Google Docs, there are no more files. You just start editing in the cloud, and there's never a file."

Can you smell the hubris? If you can't, you'd at least feel it. Sometimes I feel these tech companies are a bit too heavy on the hard sell

Yes, we're all more mobile now, taking our tech with us everywhere. Batteries and data storage hardware are clunky, and it makes devices... less mobile. They're getting smaller, but they don't seem to be going away. So why not ditch the disk or flash memory altogether and store it in the "cloud"? In a decade or so we'll finally be making calls, taking pictures, ordering groceries, getting the latest news and Tasering snatch thieves with our watches.

Thing is, data still has to be stored. In hardware. Just not the ones we're carrying. It might not be called a "file" or look like a "file", but it's still data.

Handing over the responsibility and burden of keeping our data and keeping it safe to third-party providers may free us and our devices to do more of what we want, but the risks are also transferred there as well. Gmail has suffered outages before. Natural disasters have severed our tenuous connections to our data. And the millions of potential customer records concentrated in a few sites have proven too irresistible to cybercriminals, the way ants feel about picnic baskets.

Which is why I still keep physical backups - in more than one format - with me. I do save some data in the cloud, but I'd never rely on it entirely. The big cloud companies may have better, more secure facilities, but it isn't foolproof. And it's statements like Pichai's that make Murphy's ears itch.

Backing up one's files can be a pain, but the loss of data can be even more painful. Think Google, et al will set you free from caring for your own data? Get your heads - and at least one copy of your data - out of the clouds and back on earth. Even if one can build castles on clouds, the foundation, at least, has to be solid.

Taxing

Malacca has announced a 5 per cent "heritage levy" on tourists and visitors staying at the state's hotels and other lodgings, from 1 September this year. Once imposed, the state expects to collect an additional RM12 million annually.

Given the development hijinks that have taken place under the current Chief Minister's tenure, one doubts if that RM12 million would ever be channelled correctly.

Will some of it be used to reward aspiring cig-quitters? All that smoke and cigarette butts aren't just unsightly but unhealthy as well, and that can't be good for tourism.

Will the money end up funding the accidental felling of centuries-old trees within heritage buffer zones?

Will part of it be spent in the name of science, because G*d allegedly said so?

Will part of it also be used for the maintenance of the so-called Arab City?

Why shouldn't some of the 6 percent tax be channelled back to heritage conservation efforts in Malacca? Why does it look like the state is shouldering the entire burden of keeping its heritage intact?

Most of all, will tourists and visitors pay a total of 21 per cent in taxes and service charges to stay in the hotels of what can be said to be a developing Disneyland-style caricature of Malaysia's most historic state?

We'll be given assurances, I'm sure. But the picture of that tree stump says something else.

After the last time I was there, I'd never... well, of course I suspect that there'd be no end to the nonsense going on in Malacca. Not even if they replaced the Chief Minister.

Here And There

Quite a few things happened in April. This is one of them.

Sini Sana: Travels in Malaysia

Sini Sana: Travels in Malaysia had been in the making for a while. My first contribution to the collection was months ago, before I joined MPH. They needed to know one thing: Is it "Taman Overseas Union" or "Taman Oversea Union"?

Of course it was the former. The area was named for the now defunct Overseas Union Bank, which was merged with United Overseas Bank in 2002.

Since then, Sini Sana had gone through several rounds of editing, and was finally in bookstores this month.

The stories are mostly postcard vignettes of the authors' most memorable times in Malaysia. All the authors - except perhaps, Lee Eeleen - appear to have found something new or fascinating about the country, even those who were born and are living here. Ghost stories. Trips to the past. Monkey business, elephant business, culture shocks and even a touch of forbidden weekend romance.

Zhang Su Li explores the past and present in her home state of Perak, sharing stories with an old lady at an Ipoh kopitiam, and drinking tea with a prostitute above a shophouse in Kopisan, Gopeng. She also travels to Kedah's Bujang Valley and its ancient Hindu shrines and meets a street urchin who fancies himself a Hindu god.

An island getaway off the coast of Terengganu does little good for Sarah Cheverton, who is haunted by desires stemming from the need to fill the gaps left behind by a breakup. A theft at the chalet where she and her friends are staying sours the trip. Can anything be salvaged from it?

FD Zainal takes us back into the past to his father's old fruit orchard on a hill in Kelantan, where he, his brothers and his dad lived the sweet rural life. Learn how to pack for a NS camp-style rural outing, the best places to swim in a river, and how to (not) chase away errant bull elephants that arrive at your doorstep.

Robert Bradley encounters various subspecies of a different kind of animal in his walks up Bukit Kiara: the urban KLite, and their myriad worldviews. The athletic Lee Yu Kit and his entourage, meanwhile, climb a mountain and find themselves out on a limb when a storm hits.

At the Lake Kenyir Resort in Terengganu, Damyanti Biswas finds peace until she starts getting acquainted with the flora and fauna and her fellow jungle tour mates. Marc White immerses himself into culture at the night market in Overseas Union Garden and an Indian barbershop, and Jason Moriarty dives headlong into a boat ride to a beach and tangles with an octopus.

There's more, of course, but if I go on I might go into spoiler territory. All in all, you really get a taste of what it's like to go sini sana (here and there) in Malaysia.


Sini Sana: Travels in Malaysia is edited by Tom Sykes and Tan May Lee, and published by MPH Group Publishing. Each copy is currently priced at RM35.90 and can be found in all major bookstores.

---

Sini Sana: Travels in Malaysia

edited by Tom Sykes and Tan May Lee
MPH Group Publishing
225 pages
Non-fiction
ISBN: 978-967-5222-82-5

Buy from MPHOnline.com