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Saturday 29 October 2011

Party Pooper Party

With protests like this cropping up so predictably, it wouldn't surprise me to hear foreigners saying that Malaysians don't know how to have a good time.

Laying aside all the usual arguments pro- and con- Elton, there are several reasons why I think the objections to this concert are irrelevant.

First, the venue: it's the Arena of Stars in Genting. Second, tickets for that concert are priced between RM380 and RM1,380.

You'd have to be someone of a particular stripe to pay that much to attend an Elton John concert at the Arena of Stars. Would it include the demographic whose souls or morals Pahang's PAS Youth intends to save? I'm not so sure.

These days I bet you'd get more information about gay sex in our local papers, thanks to the extensive coverage of Sodomy I and II, than a night (or two) with Glambert and/or Sir Elton.

The man will be here to play his music. The man is known for his music. He's been a musician - that's his job description - for decades. That he's married to a man does not make him a gay marriage advocate.

Buang yang keruh, ambil yang jernih. This is an old saying, which meant that we once knew how to take the good and leave the bad. When did we forget how to?

Monday 24 October 2011

It's Just Piling Up

I really shouldn't be doing this, but the compulsion to is strong. If I delay any further, it'll only grow stronger.

The need to "update" viewers.

I'd just completed a second round of edits for a rather tricky manuscript, but nothing like what I've done previously. But it should be mostly done. Once the author comes back with comments, it's going straight to the designers.

I've also completed a review to be published; another is being put together. The book wasn't as bad as I'd thought it'd be.

And of course, there's the pile you see opposite. There are books to be reviewed for the papers and the blog, but I've decided not to separate the two groups.

It's just as well. Both feel more and more like work these days.

I'm finding it difficult to review books without a pen or pencil and some paper in hand. I've found it quite fast to get all the points down with non-electronic means of note taking. Putting it all together - that's still the hard part.

Did I say "work"? Feels more like school.

"Best years of your life"? Like hell they were.

At least the words are flowing again. Just have to keep it up.

Sunday 16 October 2011

What Happened Last Week

...Nothing much.

A doozy of a week saw me doing some heavy editing and finishing off a three-book review - finally! The latter left me so relaxed I didn't feel like doing more than the usual for the rest of the week. But I'm hoping things will pick up again.

I've been making toast. Toast bread. With lots of butter. Unsalted butter. Never use salted butter for toast. Salted butter tastes funny. An odd smell will manifest at the back of your throat, near the smell receptors. Does that happen to you? It does to me.

I bought salted butter by accident. For that brand, salted and unsalted butter has very similar packaging, except for a tiny word at the top. "No.1 in Singapore"? Who cares? And how can they tolerate that odd smell? I may have to throw out a whole block of good butter. I'm depressed. The butter is innocent...

...Correction: I bought only nine books at last week's big bad book event, still a modest haul. About half are non-fiction titles, an indication of where my interests lay.

  • 10,001 Timesaving Ideas
    Reader's Digest (2008)
    447 pages
    Non-fiction
    ISBN: 978-192134415-2

    Reader's Digest churns out some of the most amazing non-fiction titles. Although time and the Internet have lessened the need for these volumes, it's nice to have a handy guide to nearly everything under the sky that doesn't require electricity, electronic hardware and an Internet subscription. This title is just the thing.

  • The New York Times Guide to Essential Knowledge
    A Desk Reference for the Curious Mind
    St. Martin's Press (2007)
    1320 pages
    Non-fiction
    ISBN: 978-0-312-37659-8

    You'll feel like a good editor with one of these on your desk. Though it isn't incumbent on the editor to be an expert on everything, he should at least check up on facts, names, etc that look dodgy on a manuscript. A pity this edition is a bit out of date, but at RM20, this monster is worth it.

  • Vintage Singapore
    Souvenirs from the Recent Past
    Editions Didier Millet (2006)
    191 pages
    Non-fiction
    ISBN: 978-981-4217-01-9

    At least one other person agrees that there's something about the cover that screams, "Buy me!" No mean feat, considering that hundreds of other books in the venue were doing the same. A testament to Didier Millet's expertise in coffeetable books.

    This one is, as the title suggests, is a museum display in a book of all old things in Singapore. That it invokes a sense of nostalgia for old things in Malaysia is no surprise.

  • The Book of the Dead
    Lives of the Justly Famous and the Undeservedly Obscure
    John Lloyd and John Mitchinson
    Faber and Faber (2009)
    435 pages
    Non-fiction
    ISBN: 978-0-571-24491-1

    A witty, informative volume about some of the world's most famous and notorious personalities. Because you just need to know. ...Ah, George Psalmanazar! Greetings old friend. Haven't seen you since that Reader's Digest Amazing Facts book.

  • Word Fugitives
    In Pursuit of Wanted Words
    Barbara Wallraff
    Collins (2006)
    192 pages
    Non-fiction
    ISBN: 978-0-06-083273-5

    The Internet age has, arguably, seen the coining of new words, some of which are amalgamations of and extrapolations from existing words. But not all of them have been corralled into a single, easy-to-reach source; ever tried looking up urbandictionary.com? Though not an exhaustive guide to (more like an exploration of) strange new words, lexophiles will love this slim little thing.

  • Little Hut of Leaping Fishes
    Chiew-Siah Tei
    Picador (2008)
    389 pages
    Fiction
    ISBN: 978-0-330-42391-5

    I had... no idea why this ended up in my bag. Probably leapt inside when I wasn't looking. Or perhaps I absentmindedly chucked it into my bag for no reason other than the price tag. A balmy Saturday afternoon is waiting for this novel.

  • Much Obliged, Jeeves
    PG Wodehouse
    Arrow Books (2008)
    203 pages
    Fiction
    ISBN: 978-0-09-951396-4

    One of two books by Wodehouse I managed to pick up at the sale. It's also, it seems, one of the only two books by Wodehouse on sale at the sale.

  • Pigs Have Wings
    PG Wodehouse
    Arrow Books (2008)
    253 pages
    Fiction
    ISBN: 978-0-09-951398-8

    This book was how I learned that Wodehouse had written other than the Jeeves series. Not sure if it's reputed to be just as witty and engaging.

  • The No.1 Ladies' Detective Agency
    Alexander McCall Smith
    Abacus (2008)
    250 pages
    Fiction
    ISBN: 978-0-349-11675-4

    I've been curious about this author for a while, but sadly, the first of McCall Smith's novels about Mma Ramotswe appears to be the only No.1 Ladies' Detective Agency novel on sale. Finished this one. It has a certain charm.

Also, some things have happened in the last week which I've been too distracted to write about. And a whole bunch of books to review, with several more candidates in the pipeline.

So, no Occupy Dataran Merdeka™ for me. Not when my own time is so Occupied™ already.

Sunday 9 October 2011

Big Bad Wolf Eated Me

My first time, and it was not gentle.

This year, they held the sale at Hall A, the Agricultural Exposition Park in Serdang, within the sprawling grounds of Universiti Putra Malaysia. It was a bit hard to get to from Puchong, with a bit of a crawl and bottleneck en route. Got a bit lost too.

I'd parked a bit farther down the hall, which was located up a hill. A five-minute hike from my car to the entrance left me winded.

But what an eye-opener.


Abandon all inhibition, ye who enter here


It was Saturday, and it threatened to rain (which it did, briefly). There was already a crowd in the hall when I arrived. They were probably expecting a huge turn-out; Pizza Hut had a truck outside the entrance.

One thing for sure: they know the kinds of venues that'll work, and they know how to market. Even the music set the mood - no downer tunes, so patrons feel good ... and maybe set aside their inhibitions.


Yes, it'll be a horrible shame not to buy these... and these,
and these and THESE and...


I imagine one visitor weighing the pros and cons in the head: "I probably don't need that Manicka, and my to-read pile is threatening to breach the ceiling-"

Then Beyoncé comes on. Yes, that song. What Kanye West said was "the best music video of all time".

"...never mind, it's RM8! I'll put it in the office and read it later!"

I suppose that it's ♪ cuz if you like it then you shoulda put your ringgit on it ♫ if you liked it then you shoulda put ya ringgit on it woo oh ooh... ♪


People mountain, people sea; Big Bad Wolf so, so happy


Packed, packed, packed! This was perhaps almost an hour later. Visitors were carrying books by the boxful. Not enough boxes? Dump your full box at one of the several service counters and get an empty box to fill.

Parents came with their kids, and their prams, and- look at the size of the children's section! Kids and young adults occupied nearly a third of the floor space.

Just wondering: Will all these people actually read the stuff they've bought? Because as far as I know, our reader cred hasn't gone up a lot in the past few years. Still, it's as if a whole town turned up today.

Perhaps it's a Malaysian thing: price something cheap and we go bananas, oranges and mangosteens. Case in point:


Evening is a Whole Day, so spend it here in the Wolf's lair.
Look! Only RM8! Don't you just want to... take it home? Maybe
get some for... friends? It's almost Chrissstmasss, after all...


Evening may be the whole day, but the Big Bad Wolf will not be deterred! Chomp! Munch! Gulp! Slurrrp...! And just like that, a novel that used to cost over RM50 now goes for RM8. What's not to like?

I suppose there is something to be said about such warehouse sales. There are half a ton of books right now that I want but can't afford in terms of time, money and space.

My haul at the end of the day was modest: about ten books. The two biggest books in the pile were last-minute purchases. I loved these big big books of ostensibly useless facts as a child. As a pay-drawing adult, however, I found these to be quite expensive. But at a price tag of RM20 each? Mine, mine!

Perhaps, for their trouble they took to get there, Big Bad Wolf gave away these bookmarks, and an offer of three years' free membership at BookXcess, to be claimed 90 days from the date of the receipt.


For an arm, a leg and your first-born, the Wolf thinks you should
get more than just cheap books and a bookmark or two


I'm not sure if a minimum purchase amount is involved, though. But hey, whatever. Besides, would it make sense to drive all the way to Serdang for less than ten books, at such high discounts?

Not sure if I like the title selections for this year. I wanted some Haruki Murakami but they gave us Ryu Murakami instead (are they siblings or the same person?)

At the risk of sounding awed, fawning or impressed... see you next year, Big Bad Wolf.

Tuesday 4 October 2011

Lost In This Plot

The term "marriage plot" categorises a storyline that typically centres on the courtship between a man and a woman and the obstacles faced by the potential couple on their way to the altar.

The Wikipedia says it became a popular source of entertainment in the 18th and 19th centuries with the rise of the bourgeois novel, with such foremost practitioners as Samuel Richardson, Jane Austen, and the Brontë sisters. Today, it's a popular device in most rom-coms.

Marriage plot. Jane Austen. 18th and 19th centuries.

Is that why I couldn't seem to get Jeffrey Eugenides' latest novel?

Who wants to read about a love triangle among three university postgrads in the 1980s? I don't.

The title looked interesting though.

The storyline is also rather 1980s. Three youngsters are graduating from university, and of them all, Madeleine Hanna is perhaps the most normal one. She's a rather brainy student of semiotics who, despite looking somewhat like Katherine Hepburn, is not very confident in her looks or body shape.

I think there's something going on with her and two guys. Part-Greek Mitchell Grammaticus, said to be the author's sort-of avatar, is a spiritual hippy-type who did religious studies and went off to Europe and then India with his Francophile classmate Larry... something.

By the time I got to the bit about Leonard Bankhead, I couldn't care to find out what he'd studied. However, it seems that he's Madeleine's squeeze. Dude also came from a dysfunctional family, and suffers from depression. Madeleine's mom is uncomfortable with Leonard's condition, and it seems as though she's trying to keep the two apart towards the end of the novel.

I'll admit: I'm totally unfamiliar with Mr Eugenides's works. His list of literary influences make me look like a pre-Neanderthal. I gave up on Jane Austen after one paragraph (Pride and Prejudice, I think it was). I parsed, not read, it from cover to cover. Prior to the e-mail from a colleague who handed me the early reading copy (on which this review is based), I wasn't aware of Mr Eugenides's existence. Nor did I know that his 2002 novel, Middlesex, won the Pulitzer Prize for fiction and the Ambassador Book Award, or that said novel is said to be the precursor to the "long-awaited" release.

From what I could gather from The Marriage Plot, Eugenides can write. He has humour, storytelling and a certain degree of sensitivity to his subjects. The three go through the motions of the young in love: sometimes happy; at other times, heartbreaking. Mitchell's (mis)adventures in finding G*d and himself are fun, perhaps due to the injection of Eugenides's own experiences when he trod on a similar path.

But does all that exposition about semiotics, religion, etc necessary to advance the story? And all that backstory on the main characters and some supporting characters just adds to the ...chaos? Well, it's okay for the main characters, but... Too much going on in the background, I feel.

So, kudos to the reviewers who dug deeper and deconstructed Eugenides's marriage plot. But I can't concur with some of the more positive comments ("sedulously unplayful, with the exception of the odd Pynchonian near-aptonym ('Bankhead', 'Grammaticus', 'Thurston Meems') and a (rather perfunctory) metafictional gesture on the final page.") or observations ("The tight plotting and internalised psychology of this new novel, allied to the full sweep of ideas and social observation and quiet comedy that characterised Eugenides's earlier works, are signs of a new maturity.")

Because I can't. I couldn't go that deep.

I won't doubt that it's a good love story, with flashes of wit and humour, and that it'll translate well into a screenplay. And perhaps some, if not all of the niggling little details that made my experience with the book less than ideal would have been excised from the final edition.

The book is, I feel, a tad overwritten. The discussions and inquiries in the narrative don't do much for the enjoyment of the story, unless it's meant to be more than the usual marriage plot.

I'll wait for the movie. So...

Mr Jeffrey Eugenides, have mercy on me, a poor critic.
Mr Jeffrey Eugenides, have mercy on me, a poor critic.
Mr Jeffrey Eugenides, have mercy on me, a poor critic.
Mr Jeffrey Eugenides, have mercy on me, a poor critic.
Mr Jeffrey Eugenides, have mercy on me, a poor critic.
Mr Jeffrey Eugenides, have mercy on me, a poor critic.
Mr Jeffrey Eugenides, have mercy on me, a poor critic.
Mr Jeffrey Eugenides, have mercy on me, a poor critic.




05/10/2011  I put this up because I thought I was no longer required to do a review for this book, but turns out I still have to.

Anyway, I just received a "real" copy of The Marriage Plot, so there will be another version of this review somewhere down the line, which will probably re-use some passages from this version. Hence, this post is no longer a valid book review.

So, yes, I jumped the gun on this one. And I may have... really lost the plot. Apologies.

30/10/2011  Read the "official" review for The Marriage Plot here.

Sunday 2 October 2011

Weekend Wrap-Up

Had I not slept the whole afternoon away yesterday and repeatedly fling angry, vaguely bird-shaped creatures into wood and concrete structures on screen, I could, perhaps, have made more out of the weekend. I believe I could have:

  • Fleshed out a couple of book reviews and wrote one more.
  • Ironed my clothes sooner.
  • Cleared out my storeroom a bit.
  • Got rid of the old desktop tower CPU and CRT monitor.
  • Got rid of the IT and programming-related books I no longer need.
  • Went for my usual evening walks.
  • Swept and mopped the floors.
  • Cleaned the fridge.

I did catch up on some much-needed sleep, though. Which is what I seem to be doing with all my weekends of late.

Ah, well. Here's to a packed, more productive week ahead.

Friday 30 September 2011

Jacob Black Won't Be Here

And nor will Taylor Lautner, despite the given moniker.

But do make your way to the address below for what is said to be the the biggest book sale in the country.

Big Bad Wolf Book Sale
Hall A, MAEPS
Malaysia Agro Exposition Park Serdang
Kuala Lumpur

07 to 16 October, 2011
From 10am to 9pm

Arguably, 1.5 million books at discounts of 75% to 95% is something to huff and puff about. Visit www.bigbadwolfbooks.com for more information.

Yes, I'm experimenting with Google Map embedding. Feel free to correct me if this is the wrong map.

No, not sure if I'll be there.

Thursday 29 September 2011

A Week To Remember

This week is Banned Books Week? Shame on me for not noticing.

Could it just be some mental fatigue on my part, the blasé-ness of living for so long in a country where the media is controlled and policed, to the point where everyone starts to self-censor their opinions?

No, I'm not Singaporean. But thanks for asking.

Banned Books Week, says Molly Raphael, President of the American Library Association, is a reminder that one's freedom to read should not be taken for granted. She suggests that one will not be aware of the significance of this freedom until books start disappearing, e.g. banned.

I suppose it can be argued that censorship of reading material is ineffective or insignificant in countries where the populace doesn't have a reputation for being voracious readers of Everything Under the Sun. But Ms Raphael thinks differently.

...Such censorship matters to those who no longer can exercise the right to choose what they read for themselves. It matters to those in the community that cannot afford books or a computer, and for whom the library is a lifeline to the Internet and the printed word. And it matters to all of us who care about protecting our rights and our freedoms and who believe that no one should be able to forbid others in their community from reading a book because that book doesn't comport with their views, opinions, or morality.

Suddenly, her message becomes clear. Had her article been banned or blocked, I wouldn't have learnt a new word: com·port, which means 1) conduct oneself; behave or 2) accord with; agree with.

New words may not be a good reason to abolish book bans, and some may argue away many of the reasons given for the total freedom to read anything. As we have learned, book bans don't always accomplish their aims.


Public hanging
For writing a book that criticised the Singaporean judicial system and its seemingly arbitrary application of the death penalty, mostly in drug trafficking cases, British journalist Alan Shadrake was found guilty of contempt of court and sentenced to six weeks in prison.

Though Once a Jolly Hangman wasn't banned outright, the advisory issued by Singapore's censors put the fear of Harry Lee into book sellers. You can't buy the book in Singapore, but I suspect Malaysian book sellers stocked it up with a certain amount of glee.

The book has seen four print runs and sold about 6,000 copies as of last year, making it the Strategic Information and Research Development Centre's (SIRD) top selling title. It still drifts in and out of MPH's list of best-selling non-fiction.


Royal smash
Sometime ago, a book about then Princess (now Empress) Masako raised the hackles of the Japanese establishment, including the shadowy Imperial Household Agency. Once could perhaps understand why something called Princess Masako: Prisoner of the Chrysanthemum Throne would not be warmly received in the Land of the Rising Sun.

An edition of the book, apparently sanitised for the Japanese market, was eventually not published. The author, Australian freelance journo Ben Hills, seemed glad about that. "Their version of my book was something I'd have been ashamed to see my name on the cover of," he said.

Publishers outside Japan, however, were interested. At one time, Princess Masako topped Amazon.co.jp's list of best-selling foreign-language books, ahead of the new Harry Potter (back then) and the Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition. When he tossed the phrase "shooting themselves in the foot", you can almost hear the bullet go in.

North of our borders, an American citizen of Thai birth became among the latest to run afoul of Thailand's strict lese majeste laws with a blog post that had translations from a book the country had banned. Look for "Paul M Handley, US freelance journalist" (see a pattern here?) on the Google to learn more.


Body snatching
Mid 2010, copies of a book billed as the first "Malaysian queer anthology" were seized by the Home Ministry. Published a year earlier by Amir Muhammad's MataHari Books, Body 2 Body was a collection of stories about the Malaysian gay community. About 2,900 copies had been sold since publication and the publisher has stated there will be no reprints.

At the time, given the vigour in which the Home Ministry moves to contain various subversive elements in the media, the one-year lag was kind of surprising.

I'm certain interest in that book peaked around the time the news came out.


We are the power
It's quite plain that book bans suck, mostly because they don't really work, and when they do, not very well. Now that books are going digital, it would be interesting to see how the book bans of the future will be implemented. Will this also affect the much-touted no-censorship pledge for the Internet in Malaysia?

Governments and institutions will always ban books, and although we may not agree with the rationales for banning books, we should nevertheless respect the decision and the laws behind it.

A nation and society is ultimately responsible for its own growth, and that growth - and change - must come from within to really work. We'll just have to hope that people of, say, Thailand, will eventually see that there's no need for such harsh laws to protect their monarchy.

Words, like images, draw their power from the reactions of those who read or view them.

The fate of the books we read is determined by our responses to their contents.

For the time being, all we can do, in our own backyard, is to read more, and be thankful for the books we can access. And learn to control our reactions to published ideas and opinions that may offend or disturb us. If we can do that, the "subversive" nature of many books would vanish.

Wednesday 28 September 2011

Jungle Juju

In 2010, The Bomoh's Apprentice by gwailo expat Geoffrey S Walker was quietly published. Until the manuscript for its sequel hit my table, I had no clue it would become a series.

What I thought was the usual jungle tale with magic, folklore and indigenous cultures... wasn't. Working with this manuscript had been fun. So far, I'd never written so much author correspondence as I did on this project. Ah, what tales I could tell...


The Bomoh's Apprentice (left) and Blood Reunion.
A "Harry Potter in Borneo" in the making?


Both books are written in a very anachronistic - albeit at times, long-winded - tone that begs the reader to just sit back and enjoy the ride. They can also easily make the leap from paper to screens big and small. I'm thinking, Saturday morning cartoons. Or maybe CGI, ala Upin & Ipin. As always, your mileage may vary.


The early years
This budding series begins deep in the jungles of Borneo, at a village named for a tree god who resides in the twilight realm of Inworld. It is this realm and this god, Tuan Pokok Tertinggi (literally, "the Lord Highest Tree"), that the bomoh or witch doctor Katak Hitam ("Black Frog") will eventually serve and protect.

One day, in the aftermath of a gruesome murder, Katak Hitam adopts a young boy whom he names Kutu or "flea". For years, the large, black-skinned bomoh patiently coaches Kutu in the magical arts and the ways of the spirits, preparing the boy for the day he becomes bomoh.

Then, one day, tragedy strikes.

To save Kutu's life, Katak Hitam takes drastic steps and as a result, is trapped in the realm of the tree god. Though the old witch-doctor designates Kutu as his successor, the villagers do not believe the boy, who is exiled for allegedly murdering his mentor-father.

The boy's problems do not end there. With Katak Hitam gone, Ketuat, the pompous, self-important headman of the village, seeks the means to become the bomoh. When things do not go according to plan, however, his pride and lust for power threaten to push him over the edge...

...but it all works out for Kutu in the end. At least, as far as this book is concerned...


The schemer and the skeleton
In Blood Reunion, it's been four years since Kutu succeeded his adopted father Katak Hitam as the bomoh of Kampung Pokok Tertinggi and installed the cool-headed, sagely hunter Pak Sumpit as its headman. Life in the village has never been better, but not everyone is happy.

Seething with anger at the loss of his assumed birthright as the village's headman, Sulung wanders into the abandoned hut where a young mother met a violent end and encounters another ghost from the past.

Seventeen years ago, midwife Mak Cik Bidan fled Kampung Pokok Tertinggi for her life, leaving her young charge behind to face the murderous wrath of a madman, taking with her a toyol - an undead familiar conjured from the spirit of a stillborn child. She has returned after years of wandering to rid herself of the curse that hung over her head since that day, and to find her toyol a new master.

In his great-aunt's supernatural pet, Sulung sees the chance for wealth, stature... and revenge.

Meanwhile, Kutu is informed of an unexpected visitor to his hut. He enters and finds the skull-less skeleton of Panglima Awang, once a fearsome headhunter, warrior and Casanova, looking for his missing head. The young bomoh later introduces the headhunter to Pak Sumpit and the two become friends.

But with trouble brewing in the horizon for Kutu, Pak Sumpit and the village, is the presence of this Skullduggery Pleasant a good or bad thing for everyone?

The second book in The Bomoh's Apprentice series, Blood Reunion evokes the rich traditions of ancient Malaysian folklore while tapping the universal themes of love and hate, greed and self-sacrifice, honour and betrayal.


Geoffrey S Walker first read about Borneo as a young boy, and his fascination with the island stayed with him ever since. In 2004, following a successful career in advertising, he left the United States and settled in Kota Kinabalu, Sabah. As a member of the Sabah Society, he has had the opportunity to explore many parts of Borneo that are well off the beaten track, and these experiences helped shape his first novel, The Bomoh’s Apprentice, and its follow-up, Blood Reunion.

Cover illustrations for both books are by graphic illustrator and art teacher John Ho; visit his blog at artwhizkids.blogspot.com

The Bomoh's Apprentice is now (or should be) in all major bookstores. Blood Reunion, the second book in the series, is scheduled for release sometime next month.




The Bomoh's Apprentice
Geoffrey S Walker
MPH Group Publishing
389 pages
Fiction
ISBN: 978-967-5222-81-8

Buy from MPHOnline.com


Blood Reunion
Geoffrey S Walker
MPH Group Publishing
420 pages
Fiction
ISBN: 978-967-5997-61-7

Buy from MPHOnline.com

Monday 26 September 2011

The Misanthrope's Job Survival Manual

During a trying time in my old job, I was browsing at a bookstore and came upon this book. On the cover, a stick figure was kicking a water cooler above the big bold title, "I Hate People!"

It spoke to my heart. I picked it up, believing it held some answers to my predicament at the time.

Me, holding a copy of "I Hate People!" Not plotting anything with it
Penned by Jonathan Littman and Marc Hershon, I Hate People!: Kick Loose from the Overbearing and Underhanded Jerks at Work and Get What You Want Out of Your Job claims to help you do exactly that.

Written in an informal and humorous manner, it suggests that it's not the reader's fault if he or she's having a hard time at the office, and starts listing the kinds of people who are in such open and somewhat derisive terms as the "stop sign", "bulldozer", "switchblade", "minute man" and "sheeple". The reader, if he meets certain criteria based on a quiz, is referred to as "the soloist", the Individual, the Standaloner, the Chosen One.

As more and more of the Chosen One's foes are revealed, Littman and Hershon continue to sell the Way of the Soloist, outlining strategies that allow him to carve out a little space for himself within the organisation where he can work, plot, delegate and perhaps dig his way out of his stagnant little pond towards something better. All the while avoiding people, i.e. at meetings, functions, seminars and the like - potential time-wasters and threats to your impending glowing solohood.

Supporting anecdotes, case studies and facts-and-figures are bandied about to add to the feel-good factor, reinforcing the belief that the Way of the Soloist is the reader's way, your way. The reader is finally exhorted to embark on his solo quest and say out loud and proud: "I hate people!"

Upon some reflection, there are problems with this book, and the main one being: It won't necessary apply to a typical Eastern corporate environment which tends to be - correct me if I'm wrong - conservative, conformity-centric, sheeple-populated biospheres. Western-style concepts such as telecommuting, flexi-hours and the like don't quite jive with conformist-comfortable firms where employee attendance is considered a performance benchmark.

Individuals with the soloist bent tend to attract mostly unwanted attention. They become, at best, the butt of jokes and gossip fodder at the water cooler, pantry or dinner tables; at worst, scapegoats for something that went wrong somewhere in the company.

Not to say that this brand of office politics is strictly an Eastern problem, or that it's worse than the Game of Thrones in Western firms and multinationals.

It's just that everywhere, self-help books such as this one tend to make the best-seller lists, but few seem to think about whether a product based on Western corporate culture and practices can be applied to conditions in my part of the world.

For one, the anecdotes, facts and stats in the book are overwhelmingly from the West - which gives the unfortunate impression that, if you're in Korea, the Philippines or Petaling Jaya, the authors aren't talking to you. Only one "Soloist" from the East is highlighted: Ken Kutaragi, who is considered "Father of the Playstation".

Regardless, I Hate People is fun, engaging, informative and makes you feel good about one's crappy situation (it doesn't blame you if your job sucks). There's some content that might be useful, but it will be even more work to find out what works. The way it's written and categorised is bound to throw its status as a self-help book into question. Its entertainment value isn't really worth the price tag, however.

It did me and my job little good. My resignation, ill-timed, perhaps, was done with an old-fashioned quit letter.

But bravo to its branding. I paid nearly RM60 because of a stick figure kicking a water cooler and a loud catchy title.


12/10/2014  Made a couple of edits, and amended this paragraph to show that there are "Soloists" from the East in this book - albeit only one.



I Hate People!
Kick Loose from the Overbearing and Underhanded Jerks at Work and Get What You Want Out of Your Job

Jonathan Littman, Marc Hershon
Little, Brown and Company (2009)
263 pages
Non-Fiction (Business/Humour)
ISBN: 978-0-316-06882-6

For more details: www.IHatePeople.biz

Saturday 24 September 2011

Bedtime Stories From The Dead Of Night

One of the first manuscripts I had to look at was this collection of short, disturbingly creepy stories by Julya Oui. Its publication was stalled for months for one reason or another.

What a relief it was when we finally passed the manuscript to the printers.

According to Oui (pun-tastic surname!), the stories were written and compiled over a number of years, way back when. So there were marked differences in... quality. I could only imagine how old she was when she first started.

I worked on it for a total of over two months. It was a... challenging assignment, partly because I'm not a fan of horror or the macabre. But Oui's imagination's like... whoa. Every few pages, I'd ask myself, "What does she smoke? Think I might want some." Sadly, I don't and can't smoke.

Creepiness abounds in the pages. Upset with her own life and angry at the world, a girl kills herself in the dead of night, adamant that nothing could be worse than the cold embrace of death - and is soon proven wrong. Over and over again.

A priest who laments his flock's disinterest in confessing their sins gets more than he bargains for when a prominent, well-respected member of society walks into the confession booth and opens up about his terrible hidden sin.

A thunderstorm traps a quarrelsome quartet in a mansion with a sprawling front yard filled with derelict vehicles. However, it soon becomes evident that there's something sentient - and sinister - about the roof over their heads.

For a reclusive unfortunate, the shadows between the trees ringing his home harbour a darkness from a violent war-torn past. Elsewhere, an overworked executive is haunted by the scarred, grotesque figure of a laughing vagrant.

A man who would do anything - yes, "anything" - for a million bucks is challenged by an extremely wealthy old man whose idea of "anything" is far worse than any Fear Factor challenge ever devised. For a country girl seeking her fortunes in the city, the harsh reality of the rat race is only the beginning of her nightmare.

Justice comes to a belligerent and cruel robber-rapist in an unexpected, yet most appropriate and macabre manner when he picks the wrong victim. An erotic dance of a different kind in a dim, squalid parlour (are those bloodstains on the walls?) leads a woman to a place she doesn't want to go - or does she?


Julya Oui loves a good story, and writes to appease her imagination and reaffirm her sanity. She loves dreaming up things and making them come alive with the stroke of her pen. Gazing at the night skies, listening to trees, and taking long walks are just some of the things she enjoys doing when she is not lost in the alternate realm. ...Whoa.

Bedtime Stories from the Dead of Night, her first book, came off the presses a couple of days ago, which means it'll be about several weeks before they hit the shelves at all major bookstores. Just in time for Halloween.

Oh: If any of you have seen this on another blog, relax. She has my permission. Wouldn't you know, it's the book's author! Say hello and see what else she's got.




Bedtime Stories from the Dead of Night
Julya Oui
MPH Group Publishing
218 pages
Fiction
ISBN: 978-967-5222-64-1

Buy from MPHOnline.com

Wednesday 21 September 2011

"It Must Never To Laugh Of The Unhappies"

Long before I dipped my toes into cyberspace, my journey into the strange, amazing and wonderful world was through books: encyclopaedias and those voluminous I-didn't-know-that books.

Cover of "English as She is Spoke"; the original 1855 version is on the left
The Internet has made this indulgence much easier; it was while I was reminiscing about typos past that I rediscovered an old favourite that had - and still does - left me gasping for air and my sides numb from laughter.

In an old volume of Reader's Digest's Amazing Facts books is an article about what was claimed to be the world's funniest phrasebook.

O Novo Guia da Conversação em Portuguez e Inglez (The New Guide of the Conversation in Portuguese and English) was first published in Paris in 1855, and was allegedly written by José da Fonseca and Pedro Carolino.

Though little is known about this New Guide, one theory suggests that Carolino had based it on some or all of da Fonseca's earlier and better Portuguese-to-French phrasebook. His translation tool was a French-English dictionary, and he named da Fonseca as co-author to give the book some cred.

Which was understandable, since it was believed that Carolino did not speak English. So the author had to rely on literal translations, based largely on a word-to-word comparison, without much attention to grammar or syntax.

The result is an epic tour de force of linguistic FAIL that rivals the strongest forces of nature and set the GrammarSense™ of all English teachers ablaze.

Worse still, da Fonseca may not have been involved at all in Carolino's enterprise. Nor did he know that Carolino used his helpful little book to create a comedic masterpiece and associated both their names with it.


"...for the care what we wrote him..."
The book, as the author describes it, includes a "choice of familiar dialogues, clean of gallicisms, and despoiled phrases" usually found in other similar works of the time.

He also hopes to fill the "imperfections and anomalies of style" found in other works that are due to the "corelessness" of rival publishers, "in spite of the infinite typographical faults which some times invert the sense of the period."

Oh no, don't leave yet! From here on, it gets better.

While I often get to read some classic and neo-classic examples of grammarcide, nothing compares to the piquant awesomeness of the New Guide. Not even Nando's, which sounds Portuguese but is actually South African.

Remember, this guy thought he was really teaching English, and this book was actually published.


Craunching the marmoset
In Carolino's universe, people are involved in "trades" such as "coffeeman", "nailer", "Chinaman" and "lochsmith". Men use "the button-holes", "the buskins" and "the lining", while women have "the cornet", "the pump" and "the paint or disguise".

In the kitchen, where dishes such as "some suger-plum[sic]", "a little mine" and "vegetables boiled to a pap" are prepared, expect such utensils as "the spark", "the smoke", "the clout" and of course, "the fire".

Wildlife observers can expect to see "quardruped's" such as the "rocbuck", "wild sow" and "dragon"; marine biologists can look forward to the "hedge hog", "calamary", "muscles", "wolf" and "torpedo".

Body parts include "the brain", "the inferior lip", "the brains" (what?), "the reins" and "the ham". Apparently, being left-handed is a disease. By the way, does anyone know where the superior and inferior lips are on the human body?

Also, good luck explaining your family tree with such terms as "the quater-grandfather", "the gossip mistress", and "an relation".


"It is a noise which to cleave the head"
The section on "Idiotisms and Proverbs" provides such gems of profundity as, "The necessity don't know the low."; "A horse baared don't look him the tooth." and "After the paunch comes the dance."

Break the ice with such "Familiar phrases" as, "Apply you at the study during that you are young."; "This wood is fill of thief's."; and "What is it who want you?" Discuss the weather with "There is some foggy."; "I fear of the thunderbolt."; and "The sun rise on."

Prior to sailing, someone may ask, "Don't you fear the privateers!" To which a captain might reply, "I jest of them; my vessel is armed in man of war, I have a vigilant and courageous equipage, and the ammunitions don't want me its."

Someone might ask a bibliophile such: "Do you like the reading good deal too many which seem me?" And the usual reply would be, "That is to me a amusement."

At the bookshop, one might enquire of the bookseller: "What is there in new's litterature?" To which an answer would be "Little or almost nothing, it not appears any thing of note." Puzzled, the customer would ask, "But why, you and another book seller, you does not to imprint some good wooks[sic]?" And the weary reply might sound like: "There is a reason for that, it is that you cannot to sell its. The actual-liking of the public is depraved they does not read who for to amuse one's self ant but to instruct one's."


"...it is perfect"
As far as I can remember, nobody is sure if da Fonseca "died of embarrassment" when the book came out, or what happened to Carolino after that.

Despite its ironic and epic FAIL as a serious phrasebook, an abridged edition was published in London by Field & Tuer in 1882. Entitled English as She is Spoke, it was probably catalogued somewhere under "Humour", and would eventually be regarded as a classic source of unintended hilarity.

A different abridgement was published the same year in the US with an introduction by Mark Twain, who sounded quite enamoured with its contents. "In this world of uncertainties, there is, at any rate, one thing which may be pretty confidently set down as a certainty: and that is, that this celebrated little phrase-book will never die while the English language lasts."

Writer Stephen Pile, in The Book of Heroic Failures, sums up the power of the New Guide: "Is there anything in conventional English which could equal the vividness of 'To craunch a marmoset'?"

Which is perhaps why Twain was certain that "...nobody can imitate it successfully, nobody can hope to produce its fellow; it is perfect, it must and will stand alone: its immortality is secure."

Who can argue that?


This quasi-review/commentary of English as She is Spoke is based on the excerpts (at least I hope they are) from one of its abridged versions. I'm still hoping to get a copy of the real book from a local bookstore.

14/09/2014  It was also published in the 36th issue (October-December 2012) of the MPH Quill magazine (PDF file for the entire issue is here).


14/08/2023  At long, long last, you can get a physical copy here.



English As She Is Spoke
Being a Comprehensive Phrasebook of the English Language, Written by Men to Whom English was Entirely Unknown

Jose da Fonseca, Pedro Carolino
edited by Paul Collins
McSweeney's Books (2004)
151 pages
Non-fiction
ISBN: 978-1932416114

Tuesday 20 September 2011

Teacher In The Interior

Is the term "blook" still in use today? Because that's what is coming to all major bookstores.

New Malaysian maths teacher Muhamad Hafiz Ismail is posted to his first school: Kampung Kenang Primary School, in a remote Temiar community in the Perak jungle. Initially struggling with his new post, he decides to keep a blog to help him document and reflect on his new life and career and to keep his spirits up.

The posting is hardly a breezy jungle jaunt. Unconcerned with their education, the kids are like hyperactive, attention-deficient ... squirrels. They come to school because of the free food, or simply to be among themselves. Absenteeism is common, and they forget what is taught in class after long holiday seasons.

Nevertheless, Hafiz perseveres. He devises a myriad of creative approaches to develop his pupils' confidence and love of school and to help them see that learning is fun. He finds innovative ways to help them learn and is devoted to giving them the best he can offer.

As he embarks on his journey of self-discovery, frank and earnest Hafiz tells it like it is: learning the Temiar language, fashioning teaching aids with recyclables, and getting to know his students.

There are visits to his students' village and a durian orchard in the hills, teaching seminars in nearby towns, and his travails with accommodation, personal modes of transport and cellphone reception.

But most of all, it's about the joys of being a teacher and a life far away from the bright lights, noise and smells of the city, and how the author grows as a teacher and as a person.

Translated from a blog of mostly Malay-language posts, the record of a year in the life of a new teacher is now a book for parents, new and experienced teachers, or anyone interested in education or real stories on school life.

Life Through My Eyes the blog was discovered by Dr Kit Thomas, Associate Professor and Dean of the Faculty of Education at UCSI University's Terengganu Campus, while on a trip to the author's school. Dr Thomas edited the book, which is published by MPH Group Publishing. All photos in this book were taken by the author.

The book will be launched at MPH Bookstores, Mid Valley Megamall on 24 September.



Life Through My Eyes
A Teacher's Little Steps Towards Perfection

Muhamad Hafiz bin Ismail
edited by Dr Kit Thomas
MPH Group Publishing
200 pages
Non-fiction
ISBN: 978-967-5997-56-3

Buy from MPHOnline.com

Monday 19 September 2011

How I'm Learning to Stop Worrying and Love the Typo

Low sugar levels, low caffeine levels, hunger, sticky fingers, butterfingers, stuck or wonky keyboards or just plain inattention. These are some of the causes of typos, among the most dreaded enemies of editors and proofreaders. As we all learned after hearing about the shifty situation regarding a romance novel, the right kind of typo in the exact location can have a devastating effect.

As an editor, it is my sworn duty to eliminate every single typo I find. They're the easy kind to deal with, simple search-and-destroy. So I tend to be critical of typos I find in other publications, even menus. If I can't correct them, I make it a point to poke fun at them. By "poke", I mean to stab it repeatedly and violently until the whole mess resembles a metaphorical pile of finely minced meat.

Less than a year and it feels like I've "been in the job too long".

Of course, this obsessive compulsive behaviour is unhealthy. It does not "keep you on your toes". It's a serious sign of one's lack of work-life boundaries. Pretty soon, you'll be like that Adrian Monk character.

Which is why I'm learning to let go, little by little.

Nowadays I poke fun - in private - at the most serious typos. The one in Susan Andersen's book is relatively minor, and I'm not saying that because I'm not keen on the genre.

But some typos inspire much cringing, head-shaking and migraines. TIME Magazine, in one of its Quotes of the Day, had the unfortunately misspelled "Profit Muhammad". And previously, the New York Times listed Farish Noor as a senior fellow of the S. Rajaratnam School of International Studies (RSIS) at Nanyank Technological University. From the Daily Dish, one entry raises a titter with: "From JK Rowling to Hugh Grant and the London police: a list of those picked to help with the ongiong inquiry." All these errors were quickly corrected.

Then, this list of ""unforgivable errors" from the good folks at Buzzfeed. Commenters made their own contributions, one of which includes the sign, "Wed Paint". The picture-heavy post takes too long to load on slower connections, so I've made a select list:

2) On a window: "Kitchen Cabinet Vanity Granite Cuntertop"

3) On a balloon: "Lewis Coutny Republican Committee"

5) A news article headline reads: "Vietnam soldier to be buried at Arlingtron".

12) On what looks like a FOX News marquee: "Jewerly Heist". Figures, don't it?

13) A neon sign at some motel called Econo Lodge also advertised its "Wire Lies" service. Ain't that Wikileaks?

19) A sign proclaims an old favourite: "No Pubic Access Keep Out".

24) Heartbreaking epitaph on a tombstone: "JAMES ANTHONY KATONA MAR. 21. 1976 - MAR. 24. 1976 OUR LITTLE ANGLE". This should've been Unforgivable Error #1.

26) This Phil Rohrer's Lunch place has US$1.20 burgers and four kinds of "ho-made soups".

28) A neon sign proclaims its "Appriciation" to the teachers at Monroe High School. "Thank You Teachers" indeed.

33) Not just bad spelling but bad punctuation: "NO KIDS!!! ON THE PAINO PLEASE THANK-YOU.

40) Aaand finally, Allisonville Nursery, "Where Home and Garden Meet", has "Fresh Cut Penis" for US$7.99. Ow....

The perfect manuscript, like the shiny, sleek and flawless exterior of some Apple products will, after a while, become boring. Who wants that? Maybe Steve Jobs, but he's not in charge anymore.

Just as the presence of caterpillars and worms are a gauge of how organic produce is, I've come to regard typos and other assorted errata in publications as a sign that human hands were really involved in a production. Borne of a real person's mind and heart and spilled onto paper or screen by hands, appendages of flesh, sinew, muscle and bone. An organic production.

At times, typos may not be such a bad thing. It can, as the above suggest, be funny. Not boring. They remind you that perfection does not exist on earth, and one shouldn't feel too bad if they aren't perfect. In the unintended humour, they help you lighten up a little. Never mind if it indicates low levels of language skills - those can be improved.

But please, never misspell names. Ever.

And once I'm done reflecting upon and appreciating the humanity behind the erratum, I will still take my trusty red pen and do the needful.

That being said, I still chafe at the writer who leaves his manuscript to the care of an editor, typos and all. With spell-checking features in today's word processors, it's not too much to ask the writer to fix all these before it reaches the editor's desk.

Not that I find correcting typos demeaning; it's a living, after all. I'm sure many editors, however, would prefer to spend time polishing a manuscript than dotting "i"s or filling in missing full stops.

Wednesday 14 September 2011

MPH Warehouse Sale 2011

I paid a visit to the warehouse downstairs from the office today. I had no idea the place was big. And stacked with books and other printed stuff.

For the next few days, some of those books will be sold. Yes, it's that warehouse sale.

Piles and piles of books. They're in shelves, in boxes, stacked on top of wooden palettes and arranged on tables. Unfortunately the setup's a bit here-and-there, so finding what you want can be a bit tough.

But it's a chance to buy the books you didn't want to or couldn't buy last year or the year before that - or the year before the year before that.

Yes, it's kind of like BookXcess, only a bit bigger, warmer and dustier. With a bit less comfort and even less parking space. It's not called a warehouse sale for nothing.

But there are books. Lots of them. A whole section is just lined with young adult novels. A whole palette piled with the Game of Thrones series and box sets. If anyone's still interested, I think there's one palette stacked with Dr M's memoir, going for RM70 each.

I got myself a couple of Agatha Christies, as well as a Terry Pratchett I used to read repeatedly, along with The Truth. Appointment with Death was going for RM15 instead of RM29.90.

No Jane Austen for me. I'm not prepared.

For those too lazy to click on the link:

MPH Distributors @ Bangunan TH,
No 5, Jalan Bersatu,
Section 13/4, Petaling Jaya
Call 03-7958 1688 for directions

Hours: 8am to 7pm

The sale starts tomorrow and ends on the 18th (Sunday).

Monday 12 September 2011

Ten Years Ago Today...

...I was getting off the bus at the Taman Tun Dr Ismail bus stop, just after the traffic lights. My workplace was just a couple of minutes away by foot. That's the only detail I remember with clarity.

I'm not sure anymore whether it was the 11th or the 12th.

The front page of The Star looked different. It was spread out over two pages, and on it was the image of one of the burning New York World Trade Center towers.

I was still at my first job in IT. I was, at the time, based in the unfortunately named Plaza IBM.

I don't remember how many bomb threat alerts we received, but I'm sure there was at least one. I recall my colleagues streaming out of the building, some getting into their cars one day.

Did I stay behind on that occasion? I can't be certain. But I do remember the petulant voice on the other end of the line, chastising my department for not having someone on standby to take phone calls in case of emergencies - and I don't mean bomb threats.

The days afterwards just passed by. CNN kept replaying footage of the burning, then collapsing WTC Towers for days. The enormity of the event and its aftermath took a while to sink in. A very long while.

But the Islamic terrorism thing hit a lot closer to home with the Bali bombings in... 2002? And was I in a Jakarta food court, eating rice with beef in pepper sauce when the TV played footage of the incident, or was it some other date? Or was it all a dream?

I should've started blogging when the writing bug started twitching. I had lots to write about when I started travelling to Indonesia to work, but I can't accurately place names, addresses and events within the time frame anymore.

I remember seeing pictures of what appear to be Palestinians, cheering the collapse of the WTC. Many Arab governments, I was sure, could barely contain their glee. Iran didn't seem to bother.

Lessons were learnt, all right. Mostly the wrong ones. And it didn't take ten years to prove that bloodshed has done little to advance the misguided causes of everyone involved. But some still try. It's all so absurd.

The world will eventually tire of the fighting. Whomever will be chosen to lead will one day be ushering a war-weary generation into a peaceful but faraway age. This bunch with us right now won't cut it. And it'll be a long while before the fires burning right now will die.

...Ten years. Feels like last year. I've switched jobs twice since then. Plaza IBM is now Plaza VADS. I hardly hear about IBM these days; it's all Google, Twitter, Facebook and Apple now.

Those days get hazier by the day, retreating into the far corners of my mind. I suppose it's because I didn't experience it first-hand: the explosions, the fires and smoke, the falling debris and the ensuing chaos.

It's just as well. There's no point in "remembering 9/11" anyway.

Not anymore.

Saturday 10 September 2011

Moore Trouble Ahead

When I first read Stupid White Men, I thought, well, this is refreshing. But my interest in Michael Moore cooled somewhat after flipping through some of his subsequent books.

I stopped reading Counterpunch years ago because of similar feelings, though Moore's leftist Kool-Aid is less toxic; haven't they heard about the chill pill?

Cover of Michael Moore's "Here Comes Trouble" - I like this one better
However, his films Bowling for Columbine, Fahrenheit 9/11 and Sicko were interesting and entertaining. You can't say that Moore doesn't know how to push his audience's buttons. At times I feel like he's that cartoon character standing in front of a shiny electronics panel bent on pushing every button, flicking every switch and turning every knob or dial until something finally breaks.

With the exception of Mike's Election Guide which I reviewed in my previous job, I never bothered with his other books. After a while, they all sound the same. At least he's consistent.

Then the Guardian published this excerpt from his upcoming book, Here Comes Trouble, just in time for the tenth anniversary of 9/11. Perhaps no other title aptly describes the memoir about America's most hated man, who panned his president when the nation was at war.

Given his uncanny button-pushing talents, the backlash was tremendous. He'd been verbally, digitally and physically assaulted; his property trespassed; and a whole lot more. It got to a point where he had to hire bodyguards, most of whom were former soldiers and SEALs - a bit ironic, considering his circumstances.

Then came the day someone was arrested for allegedly plotting to blow up Moore's house. Moore despaired over this for a time.

For me, it was the final straw. I broke down. My wife was already in her own state of despair over the loss of the life we used to have. I asked myself again: what had I done to deserve this? Made a movie? A movie led someone to want to blow up my home? What happened to writing a letter to the editor?

Yeah, why don't they write letters to the editor anymore? After all, not everybody is comfortable with the idea of parading and stepping on cow heads, burning churches, or throwing rubber snakes and newspapers into a possibly illegal bonfire.

That wannabe Guy Fawkes' plan was almost as sickening as former Fox News rabble-rouser Glenn Beck announcing his "urge" to kill Moore (and it seems, getting away with it), and Fox's Sean Hannity hosting a trespasser of Moore's house.

Are these are the kinds of freedoms that Dubya Bush said the "terr'ists" hate, the kinds that should be defended by toppling governments who don't like you - by force?

A decade after 9/11, Moore must feel vindicated. He'd been, at least, right about the Iraq war. But I find the closing anecdote in that Guardian extract a bit incredible.

As I do this over-the-top blurb on the book on the web site:

Moore is his own meta-Forrest Gump, at one moment he's an 11-year-old boy stuck on a Senate elevator with Bobby Kennedy, and the next moment he's inside the Bitburg cemetery with a dazed and confused Ronald Reagan. Changing planes in Vienna, he escapes death at the hands of the terrorist Abu Nidal.

In search one day for a bag of potato chips, he ends up eliminating racial discrimination in private clubs across America. He founded his first underground newspaper in the fourth grade. He refused to be on the CBS Evening News with Walter Kronkite at 16. And he became the youngest elected official in the country at age 18 by enlisting an "army of local stoners" as his campaign staff.

All of this makes for great fiction — but every one of these stories is true and from the life of one Michael Moore who became an iconic voice for progressives everywhere. But before Michael Moore became the Oscar-winning filmmaker and all-round thorn-in-the-side of corporate and rightwing America, he was the guy who had an uncanny knack for just showing up where history was being made.

Trouble, says Moore, is coming to you on 13 September. I might keep an eye out for it. With button-pushers like him, however, I'd do the pinch-of-salt thing because what he dishes out can be hard to swallow.

Monday 5 September 2011

Big and Black

This morning, I replied thus to a colleague's e-mail:

Received it. It is heavy. It is black. It smells good. It's very long. It's interesting.

Make the phone call.

Though I could be talking about the Old Spice Guy, it's actually this:


Big, black, heavy, smells good and very long - Neal Stephenson's latest, "Reamde"
Big, black, heavy, smells good and very long - Neal
Stephenson's latest, Reamde


Sorry to disappoint. I'm not like... that.

Won't be reviewing it for the papers, after all. They found someone else to do it. I get to keep my copy, though, so expect to see my own take on the book ... whenever.

More new books are coming out of MPH Publishing. Updates soon.

Sunday 4 September 2011

Another Stupid CSS Experiment

Whatever possessed me to go and drag these home with me during the long, long weekend?

Boredom and bravado, mostly. Never a good combination.

The Secret History of Elizabeth Tudor, Vampire Slayer
Lucy Weston
Gallery Books (2011)
304 pages
Fiction
ISBN: 978-1-4391-9033-3

The Facebook Effect
David Kirkpatrick
Virgin Books (2010)
374 pages
Non-fiction
ISBN: 978-0-7535-2275-2

State of Wonder
Ann Patchett
HarperCollins (2011)
353 pages
Fiction
ISBN: 978-0-06-207471-3

A Decade of Hope
Dennis Smith, with Deirdre Smith
Viking (2011)
356 pages
Non-fiction
ISBN: 978-0-670-02293-9

Columbus
Laurence Bergreen
Viking (2011)
417 pages
Non-fiction
ISBN: 978-0-670-02301-1


So yes, I'm trying a different way of presenting this. For the sake of symmetry, I've omitted the subtitles. It's always the heavy non-fiction books that have the longest subtitles, isn't it?

But this format also involves a lot of inline CSS code, which is quite messy when incorporated into normal posts. Maybe I should add new CSS definitions for this format into the blog template....

20/10/2014  I've abandoned this idea; too complicated. And I've also stopped publishing items from my reading list, which is probably longer than both my arms by now. But the CSS code might be useful for something else.

Sunday 28 August 2011

Not Quite Paradise

Overall, pleased with this, as I'd taken several days to draft and finalise it.

The title for this post was the original title of the piece; who knows why it was changed. Nor was the standfirst, shown below, used for the final versions. Perhaps I'm not obliged to provide either, but from my brief stint in journalism, both can be hard to come up with.

The review copy was not the one the bookstore wanted to promote, but the hardcover movie-poster version which you can buy online.



Tale of human courage
From above, the hidden valley seemed like the Garden of Eden. Then the plane went down...

first published in The Star, 28 August 2011


Once upon a time, the US media went nuts over the abduction and eventual rescue of one Private Jessica Lynch in Iraq in 2003. But hers was not the only dramatic one of a female soldier in American history.

Professor of journalism Mitchell Zuckoff was doing some research when he stumbled upon an article about a rescue operation that took place towards the end of World War II. He eventually came back to it, did some reading and leg work and put it all into a book.

Zuckoff's Lost In Shangri-la: A True Story Of Survival, Adventure, And The Most Incredible Rescue Mission Of World War II – breathe, soldier, breathe! – also features a female member of the US Armed Forces. Corporal Margaret Hastings of the Women's Army Corps (WAC) was part of the Far East Air Service Command (shortened to "Fee-Ask") based in Hollandia in the Dutch half of New Guinea (the island is now split into West Papua and Papua New Guinea). But the circumstances from which she needed rescue were quite different from Lynch's situation.

On May 13, 1945, Hastings and over 20 crew members and passengers boarded the Gremlin Special, a C-47 transport plane, for a sightseeing tour of a remote jungle valley surrounded by mountains. Colonel Ray Elsmore, also based in Hollandia, supposedly discovered this valley which was later dubbed "Shangri-La" by two war correspondents, George Lait and Harry Patterson. Sightseeing tours of Shangri-La, inhabited by supposedly savage, spear-wielding Stone Age tribes, became a treat for those stationed at Fee-Ask.

At that time, the only way into Shangri-La was by plane, which was a risky undertaking. Mists often hid nasty surprises for unwary or inexperienced pilots. On the day of the crash, Zuckoff writes, such a pilot may have been at the helm of the Gremlin Special. Of the passengers and crew, which included nine members of Hastings' WAC unit, only three would ultimately survive: First Lieutenant John McCollom, Tech Sergeant Kenneth Decker, and Hastings.

Though meant to be a journalistic record, this book feels a bit like a documentary or film. A series of events come together to form a credible historical narrative of not just the rescue and the profile of the key figures, but also of the natives, the valley and those who were there before, and the war raging around them.

Among other things, we learn of C. Earl Walter Jr and his Filipino-American paratroopers who were sent to rescue the three. We discover that Colonel Elsmore was not the first to discover Shangri-La, now called the Baliem Valley. We observe breathlessly as the daring rescue plan unfolds. We look on in horror as a drunk rogue filmmaker parachutes out of a plane. We are also given a glimpse of the lives and cultures of the Papuan natives, who are more than what the reporters say they are.

And as more and more Yankees and their allies pour into the valley, a whiff of danger arises as the natives' regional leader feels threatened by the foreign presence and begins plotting....

Just as it was in the tale of Jessica Lynch, Margaret Hastings is very much the heroine and pivotal figure here, even though other key figures are given more or less equal time. The book starts and ends with Hastings. She was even crowned "Queen of Shangri-La" by the press then, a title she would come to loathe. Another edition of this book, Lost In Shangri-la: Escape From Another World, is done up with a movie poster of a cover (pictured here) that rubs that fact in.

One could perhaps sigh at the author's apparent sexing up of a dramatic rescue operation by centring the whole thing on the attractive female survivor. But Zuckoff keeps the narrative chaste by sticking to the historical and journalistic aspects of the rescue. And there's lots of history, with bits of anthropology and anecdotal accounts. However, some attempts at philosophising, like how the act of war is more crucial to the natives' way of life than ours, sound laboured.

It could've been written with a bit more dramatic flair, but judging from the extensive bibliography, one supposes that the author may have been worn out by all the research he'd done – look at all those notes at the back!

Then again, perhaps not. Poignant, gritty, engaging and occasionally comic, Lost In Shangri-La can stand on its own as a compelling tale of human courage, camaraderie and survival without any embellishment.



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

Friday 26 August 2011

Too Much Information

Now that this review is out, here's a bit more information.

The Democratic Republic of the Congo in Central Africa was formerly known as the Congo Free State, Belgian Congo, Congo-LĂ©opoldville, Congo-Kinshasa and Zaire (1971-1997).

It's not to be confused with the Republic of the Congo aka the Congo Republic, Congo-Brazzaville, Little Congo or simply the Congo, another state in Central Africa.

So, there is no "Zaire and the Democratic Republic of Congo". At present, there is, however, a "Republic of the Congo" and "Democratic Republic of the Congo".

I got confused. My bad.



Too much info

first published in The Star, 26 August 2011


What an iPad of a book, I thought, as I ran my hands over the cover that was tastefully done in white, black and red. And just like a real iPad, you will either get sick of it after a short while or be lost in it for hours, maybe days.

The Information is James Gleick's attempt to enlighten the masses about the subject of "information": its history, theories, and how technology that bloomed in the last 50 years has redefined our relationship with information.

Gleick kicks things off with the story of early forms of texting, which includes fire signals and African talking drums. While highlighting the latter we are introduced to Kele, a Bantu language spoken in parts of Zaire and the Democratic Republic of Congo. Inflections in speech can give the same Kele word or phrase different meanings, resulting in comical and potentially tragic consequences. For instance, one can end up saying "he boiled his mother-in-law" instead of "he watched the riverbank". Several revelations arise from this: language is complex; such complexities can form a basis for some kind of encryption; and it seems that mothers-in-law are hated everywhere.

The book explores other aspects of information, such as communication (telegraph and telecommunications), processing (19th century English mathematician and mechanical engineer Charles Babbage's difference engine, transistors and logic circuits), encryption (WWII's famed Enigma machine), and finally, "the flood" (social networks and Wikipedia).

The book gets harder to read as one goes along, however. Some parts are like a textbook or encyclopaedia, with diagrams, math equations, foreign words and special symbols. All that, plus the dry tone and inaccessible language clutter up and bog down what would have been an interesting book that might explain and contextualise, among other things, phenomena such as Fox "News", LOLcats, and Charlie Sheen. Digging up such gems, however, is like going through a mile of Google search results. One wonders if this is actually the sequel to Gleick's previous book, Chaos.

Those with the determination, patience and stamina to wade through the entire book will likely be rewarded with a clearer understanding of what we read, why we seek it, why we read some things more than others, and why we have that urge to "spread the word".

Some points to ponder: Our hunger for information can lead to an information hangover and apathy, so how do we sate the hunger while avoiding the side-effects? If DNA code is "information", does that make us "living machines", and gene-based treatments a form of programming?

For me, "information" connotes something that's shiny, intriguing and that invites exploration, but the task of unravelling the complex relationships between us and the information we produce and consume is much, much harder.

Though I feel Gleick has done his utmost to do this, I also fear he has been too successful. The Information may help us understand the origins of information and our ties to it, but it may also end up a victim of its author's apparent success – a book that's too smart for the casual reader, afflicted by some of the problems it highlights and tries to explain.



The Information
James Gleick
Fourth Estate
526 pages
Non-fiction
ISBN: 978-0-00-742311-8

Thursday 25 August 2011

Calling For Weird Things

Jen Campbell, who blogs at This is Not the Six-word Novel, is calling booksellers all over for weird things they've heard their customers say for her book, Weird Things Customers Say in Bookshops.

What began as a single post about said topic eventually grew into a series. Weeks ago, Campbell accumulated enough weird things for a book. The latest edition will be published in the UK, Ireland, Australia and New Zealand.

Later on, Campbell opened up contributions from several Commonwealth countries, including the aforementioned ones. What she got was so enjoyable, she decided to lengthen the list and include weird things from booksellers worldwide.

"If you have a bookshop in space, you may enter too. Extra kudos to you," she adds.

Alas, I'm a deskbound editor who's dream job (one of several) is to run a book nook one day. And there aren't a lot of indie booksellers in this country; fewer still, I think, have the knack for remembering the weird things their customers say.

Anyway, please send in your best "Weird Things Customers Say in Bookshops" to weirdthingsuk[at]gmail[dot]com.

Set the conversation out in a chat window format as seen in these posts.

Please include your name, contact number, and the name and location of your bookshop (bookshop name, address, city, country).

Submissions should be sent to the said e-mail address before 30 September this year.

Non-booksellers can help spread the word about this call for submissions. Check Campbell's blog for more information.

I wonder if the bookstore people will bring it over here...

Tuesday 23 August 2011

Rise Of The "Raviews"

Today, let me introduce a made-up word: "raview". This portmanteau of "rave" and "review" is the only way to describe the US$5 "reviews" that might be offered by a web site mentioned in the New York Times.

They are everywhere. They are, it seems, cheap. And they are virtually indistinguishable from "truthful" reviews.

A related article offers some tips on spotting potential fake reviews, listing such indicators as: constant focus on reviewer and companions, lots of "I", "me" and "my", and direct mentions of lodgings and cities. Also, look out for adverb and verb overload. If a review sounds overly positive, it smells fishy.


A sample of some very effusive reviews on TripAdvisor.com.
Under those guidelines, they'd be fishier than Fulton Street,
even if they're genuine and truthful.


This concerns me somewhat, because similar issues plague book reviews too. As well as food reviews, movie reviews, anything reviews. This also shed more light on why a former boss insisted on limiting the use of "I", "me" and "my" in my more "serious" pieces. "Raviews" do seem to be talking more about the "raviewer" than the product.

Arguably, "raviews" of such things as books, food and movies are possible, because, well, there's no accounting for taste. Over time, a reviewer's experiences will change the person, leading to a possible re-evaluation of his earlier opinions.

By the way, does this look "raview-ish"? ...Perhaps, but that's the general vibe I had when I went through the pages.

"Raviews" of travel destinations are harder, I think, and not just because of the writer. Places change. Service standards fluctuate. Last month's travellers to a place may encounter a different atmosphere than today's.

Still, US$5 per "raview" is a short sell for the kind of mental anguish, however minimal, that I'm sure the "raviewer" goes through. Times must be really hard nowadays.

Now that these possible signs of a fake review are out in the open, will it change the way reviews are written? Possibly. For one, writers may probably have to adopt more neutral voices, even if they were genuinely blown away by their experiences. And who wants to read dry, boring travel stuff?

But things will change. They are talking about ways to separate the chaff from the wheat; "raviews", after all, are essentially spam and a waste of server space, in lieu of their effect on a product's marketability and a ratings site as a fair arbiter of taste.

At least, as fair as could be in the face of the constant deluge of information and opinion brought about by the Internet.

Monday 22 August 2011

Seashore Searching

Certain events that took place in the past two weeks drove me to search Youtube for an old song. "Forever", sung by Japanese actor Takashi Sorimachi and Richie Sambora, was the opening theme for the 1997 Japanese drama series Beach Boys.


The only nice poster pic of the 1997 Japanese drama
series Beach Boys I could find


Yes, I guess it was a long time ago.

Walking on the beach, 17-year-old Makoto Izumi (played by Ryoko Hirosue) finds a message in a bottle which ends with, "We are the beach boys." It was never clear who wrote the message, but I suppose the bottle was just a set piece that led to the serendipitous encounter that would follow later.

I.e., the arrival of the "beach boys" into her life.

Former competition swimmer and deadbeat Hiromi Sakurai (Sorimachi) is kicked out of his girlfriend's house. Around the same time, high-flying salaryman Kaito Suzuki (Yutaka Takenouchi) is escaping from troubles at his workplace. These two meet and end up at the same place: a small bed-and-breakfast by the beach, where Makoto lives with her granddad.

Hiromi and Kaito couldn't be any more different. Sorimachi essentially plays a more laid-back, easygoing and less edgier version of his GTO persona; Kaito is all business and straitlaced. Their first meeting couldn't have been worse: while pushing Hiromi's jalopy, they end up chasing the car downhill and plunged into the ocean.

And Kaito loses his wallet to the sea.

Stuck in the middle of nowhere with no money, both of them became employees at the B&B - fertile ground for friendships between two unlikely bedfellows, set within a feel-good, often funny tale about life, priorities, finding one's dreams and, yes, friendship.

Then again, not so unlikely; in Hiromi and Kaito's names is the kanji for "sea", shown clearly in the opening. No guesswork for the audience, as far as the scriptwriters are concerned.

Back then, I was too young and perhaps too occupied with my own things to fully appreciate the message(s) behind the drama series. The idea of a simple life, working and living near the sea appealed to me, though, and not just because of where I was born. The opening theme stuck, too.

I guess it was that simplicity that I seem to yearn for now, so warm and familiar, it feels like... home. Just like the B&B was to "beach boys" Hiromi and Kaito.

But their idyll doesn't last long. Masaru Izumi, Makoto's grandpa and owner of the B&B goes missing one day, leading to the Beach Boys' parting of ways to find their own "ocean". And so it ends...

But bless Fuji TV for the special episode. Ah, the sight of them trying to start and then chasing Hiromi's car back into the ocean again when they returned to the seaside B&B was so damn cathartic.

And then, the sounds of the guitar as the opening theme played - an affirmation that, yes, they are and will always be "the beach boys".

I hold on to that song. When I hear it playing at the back of my mind at some point in my life, I will know that I have, at last, found my metaphorical B&B by the sea.