Readings' Fourth

Goodness, is it Readings' fourth anniversary already? Time doesn't just fly, it's got an intergalactic warp drive strapped to its back.

Rainy weather kept the party indoors where space is already at a premium, even without the art installations. A micro-bookfest was set up next to the buffet table where the birthday cake and chips were. Attractions included Sharanya Mannivanan's Witchcraft, Ruhayat X's Aweks KL anthology, and Amir Muhammad's new book. The books turned out to be more popular than the food - few seemed to be in the mood to snack. This was true for those who returned from their Chinese New Year holidays.

Writer Yvonne Foong was also there to sell her books and T-shirts. It was a pity she couldn't enjoy the session because of her impaired hearing; the stories were all well-written and largely entertaining - especially the funnier ones. She came by taxi, but when the session was over there was no cab for her address (or rather, no cab wanted to go to her address), so one of the attendees drove her home.

...and I didn't take any pictures of her or her wares. ...Her wares... gah, I forgot to buy a T-shirt...! I can't believe it - although some who know me can...

Shantini Venugopal of Instant Café Theatre read her Karmic Tale, a hilarious cautionary tale about the subterranean parking lots at The Gardens/Mid Valley she penned on FaceBook. Because her printer and laptop aren't on speaking terms, she read the story out of the laptop while the printer sulked at home.

Some of us have probably braved the perils of the modern Malaysian parking lot design (also found at Pavilion KL) for our unsalted butter, vanilla extract and cream crackers. I've personally gotten lost a few times. Can Karmic Tale be expanded into an ad campaign for better parking lots? Preferably by Yasmin Ahmad?

Umapagan Ampikaipakan - who writes for the NST - was next with excerpts from some of his articles. I've read his comments on Bibliobibuli, but never saw him in person. Foot-in-Mouth Syndrome kicked in after introducing myself to him. "You're the one with the (nearly) unpronounceable name," I said (even Sharon needed practice with it).

"That's a bit racist," Amir Muhammad jabbed. "Just because you come from a land of monosyllabic names..." Unintentional, Amir. Honest.

Umapagan's scribblings about the results of the US Presidential Elections was funny and evocative, but somewhat diluted by his rapid-fire, typewriter-style diction.

Brian Gomez read a few passages from his debut novel Devil's Place. I'd written a blurb on the book for a local publication, but looking at it now, I don't think I did it justice. Maybe I should have stuck with, "Fast-paced, violent, vulgar, and laugh-out-loud entertaining. Buy. Now. For Xmas 2009.", but it was a rather high-brow publication that needed something long-winded.

Copies of Devil's Place brought to Readings went like cash rebates for petrol at post offices nationwide - after Gomez's turn at the mike, of course. There's nothing like hearing the author read his own work.

And because this is my own publication, here's what I think of Devil's Place: Fast-paced, violent, vulgar, and laugh-out-loud entertaining. Buy. Now. For Xmas 2009. Because by then all copies will be at the Home Ministry and your copy (or copies) will be worth heaps on eBay or Lelong.com.

The mood changed during Iain Buchanan's turn. His book, Fatimah's Kampung is the poignant story of a village's disappearance hit all the right notes, particularly for those who have read about Singapore's last rural village on the International Herald Tribune. And because Fatimah's Kampung is an illustrated work, it has more storytelling power. Buchanan could do more for the beautiful, rustic rurals than say, the Old Town (kopitiam) ad campaign. FunnyBunny should meet him. They could talk all day - at least.

I didn't take too many pictures of Amir Muhammad, since he's so recogniseable. He dropped by to "read" something from his latest offering, Malaysian Politicians Say the Darndest Things, Volume 2. It was more like showcasing rather than reading, I thought.

This time, the soundbites in Volume 2 are given more side-splitting power by Fahmi Reza's outrageously hilarious scrapbook style graphics - the reason one distributor (or publisher?) declined to touch it. I bought my copy at a bookstore because Amir didn't issue receipts for tax deductions.

...in retrospect, maybe I should have bought my copy at Readings and have it autographed. It would've made a great keepsake. And Volume 2 is just as irreverent as Devil's, if not more...

By the end more people were buying Yvonne's T-shirts or books, and I couldn't pay attention to the last reader, Saiful Nizam bin Shukor (my apologies). And yes, the humidity and time of day were lowering my eyelids. I keep them open; time travels fast if you don't pay attention - before you know it, it'll be Readings' fifth.

In-house entertainment was provided by Peter and Markiza. Missed them? Click the link for their next gigs.

Same time - and place - next year?

Medical Report

I have a maxillary polyp in each nasal sinus, and my nasal bone is shaped like a thunderbolt. This cramped up my airways and made the nasal allergies worse. After years of this said polyps are now the size of an average grape. Said sinuses are swelled and filled with mucous. Surgical procedure required.

So says the specialist from Taman Desa Medical Centre. The first paragraph cost me around RM600, including fees, CT scan and several insertions of a probe with a camera at the end. The first time was OK, but when I went back for the report (the radiologist wasn't there for the scan) I got it stuck up my nose again.

Either I go for "minimal-invasive" surgery or keep using nasal sprays for life, which is not a good idea. I told the specialist I sometimes bleed when I blow my nose. "You pointed that out exactly," he said. "One of the symptoms of long-term steroid use (thinning of the membrane). As a journalist, you're supposed to look for the black and white of things - why didn't you check the warnings in the brochure?"

That's why I guess they're called "consultants", not "doctors".

Do not get sick. Ever.

Justice Is...

...seeing both Hamas and Israeli leadership share the defendant's dock at The Hague.

It's been more than sixty years. Are there still any clean hands left in the Middle East?

And once that's settled, Dubya's administration is next - if they're still alive by that time.

Coward's End

The first book review for this year (2009) was written last year for a movie that didn't seem to reach the silver screens. It's out on DVD though, if anyone's interested.

This one is also heavily edited. While I'm learning to take it all in stride, I can't help feeling sore that my degree of writing has taken a dive lately. And I think I won't be doing a lot of reviews this year.

Still, I've had eleven published last year (not a lot, either), plus another three in 2007, so I can't complain.

---

History or fiction?

first published in The Star, 04 January 2009


A conundrum we all face with novels-turned-into-movies is whether we should wait for the movie or read the book first.

The silver screen option would probably be more appealing in today's attention-deficit society; it seems that few people want to take a whole day (or two) to read a book from cover to cover, nowadays.

There is also the suspicion that the author wrote it with the hope that somebody would turn his masterpiece into an Oscar-winning movie (The Da Vinci Code comes immediately to mind!).

While Ron Hansen's novel was made into a movie – which has yet to open here, while Singaporeans saw it in January last year – it doesn't seem, at first glance, to lend itself easily to silver screen adaptation. One can't really accuse the writer of this sometimes-surreal Western of pandering to Hollywood sensibilities.

For one thing, there's the title (deep breath, now): The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford. For another, while that unwieldy title seems to indicate a focus on the American West's most famous outlaw, Jesse James – surely popular fodder for the silver screen – most of that focus seems to have been culled from newspapers and magazines. Half the time it feels like I'm reading a long, laboriously-crafted Wikipedia entry. Instead, Hansen has, intriguingly, centred his best writing around the assassin, Robert Ford.

The story of Jesse Woodson James' criminal career begins with the American Civil War in 1861, when he rode with Confederate militia alongside his elder brother, Frank. When the war ended in 1865, the Jameses joined the Younger brothers (Cole, Jim, John, and Bob), to form the James-Younger Gang, a real ornery buncha outlaws. However, because they mainly went after government establishments and the super rich, the outlaws had fans among poor rural folk.

When a botched robbery breaks up the James-Younger gang, Jesse forms his own gang, and it is this that will lead eventually to his demise at the hands of two turncoats: new recruits Robert and Charley Ford. All this is historic fact.

Our fictional novel begins innocently enough, with a young, enthusiastic Bob Ford trying to chat up Frank James, hoping to impress the outlaw and maybe get an invitation to the gang's next gig. Frank feels an immediate dislike for the boy, saying that Bob gives him "the willies" – one of several Ides of March-like premonitions buried in the pages. Jesse, however, lets young Bob into the gang.

As the days pass, however, the allure of being a member of Jesse's posse wanes as Bob sees more and more of his leader's flawed, all-too-human side. He also begins to resent the fact that, most of the time, he's just Jesse's errand boy.

It is events closer to home, however, that pushes Bob onto the path of treachery: He kills Jesse's cousin to protect a fellow gang-member who's a friend, and then covers up the crime. Around the same time, an increasingly paranoid Jesse begins silencing comrades after some of his gang members are arrested. With the guilt of the murder of Jesse's cousin hanging over their heads too, Bob and Charley begin fearing for their lives.

And so, after making a deal with local authorities, they kill the famous outlaw, shooting him in the back.

Bob wastes little time in exploiting his status as the infamous traitor. Will he live happily ever after, or be done in by the curse of a wicked deed? A lot of the time, the lines between fact and fiction are blurred. Did it all really happen like it says in the book?

Some stories and anecdotes out of the wild, wild West tend to be apocryphal, but The Assassination tries its darnedest to avoid being categorised as complete fantasy, even at the risk of coming across more like a non-fiction book than the upper-crust Western it really is.

I am grateful, though, for Mr Hansen's discipline in sticking to the history books (those that I've read, anyway). Very few liberties were taken in the name of artistic licence (for instance, no tender Brokeback Mountain moments, thank God!). Then again, I was too engrossed in all that history to notice any.

Here's an interesting bit of trivia: When they made this novel into a film, Brad Pitt, who plays Jesse James and is also one of the movie's producers, reportedly insisted that the long title be retained. And everyone knows that when Jesse says "do", nobody ever says "don't"!

---

The Assassination of Jesse James by The Coward Robert Ford

Ron Hansen
Harper
389 pages
Fiction
ISBN: 978-0-06-112901-8

Feeling Down At The Koi Pond House

Compared to last year, the mood at KY's Xmas eve party was subdued. Some of the usual suspects were missing, but that wasn't all.

Wildguy recalled that the previous ones were bigger. They weren't just parties - they were all-out bashes. With real food. More babes. This year though... . Sure, we're entering the biggest economic recession in living memory, but is that why the atmosphere was relatively down? And no police car stopped by - at least not before I left.

There were chocolates - those you can only buy at an airport. Half the items in the Secret Santa event were lingerie, which livened things up a bit. And the SixthSeal guy dropped his pants (I so did not need to see that). And Wildguy provided entertainment with his take on current affairs.

Suertes summed it up nicely. "We're getting old."

I guess we are. 2005 wasn't that long ago, was it?

Adieu, Suzhou

I didn't know when the Suzhou Noodle House first opened, but it seemed like a long time ago. Then it packed up and disappeared, and in its place was the increasingly kitschy and still inexplicably open Star Village Restaurant (formerly Honey Star). Then a few years later, I found it at OUG's Citrus Park, and after a square meal, returned on occasion for the noodles, rice, tea and pumpkin cakes.

If the manager can be believed, all the dishes come from the Chinese province of Suzhou, reputed abode for China's fairest maidens (something similar has been said about Ipoh). Some of the dishes served up at Suzhou Noodle House are quite oily, but mostly good. The noodles deserve particular mention. Square-ish rather than cylindrical, firm and made without jian shui (an alkali solution, probably sodium carbonate), it went surprisingly well with the stock, which was just Goldilocks right. Eaten plain, the noodles were great for convalescing foodies.

The noodle "varieties" are created by pairing the noodles with sides: braised duck, sweet and sour pork ribs, and spicy chicken. I wouldn't recommend it with the fried pork or chicken cutlets, those roof-of-the-mouth slashing horrors. For a while, they had smoked fish and fatty cured pork belly, but they had to drop it from the menu because the supplier didn't do smoked fish any more.

The teas were unique. The Biluochao broad-leaf green tea had a strong tannic overlay which made it a powerful palate cleanser, and a pleasant groundnutty aroma. It takes a while to steep, and supposedly gets stronger with each refill, but the taste declines noticeably at the fourth refill - or maybe I just wasn't patient enough to wait. They also had the more expensive Biluochun variant, which I never tried.

Given the oilyness of some dishes and desserts, the tea was a welcome relief. I specifically remember the fried, red-bean-filled pumpkin cakes. At three or four pieces per serving, you'd want to have a light meal beforehand. Other dishes I fondly recall are the xiaolongbao soup dumplings, the gulaorou (sweet and sour stir-fried pork) rice and their fried noodles.

After all that it may be surprising to hear I'm not giving out any numbers or addresses for this place. Not that it would have made a difference - the place closed its doors more than three months ago, probably for good.

The last time I went there was in July, and I took some pictures. The place looked rundown and I could hear the scurrying of some animal from the water-stained ceiling boards. I hated to think it, but I could see it coming. Like the restaurant-heavy Taman Tun Dr Ismail, competition is stiff, and their place was tucked so deeply into the complex, with a hard-to-find entrance. When I returned in October, a day spa was being set up in its place. The labourer said Suzhou Noodles packed up around two months earlier.

I was sorry to hear the news, and sorrier for not rushing to push it into the limelight. I loved (some of) the food, the tea, and the quiet cosyness, which probably wasn't a desirable attribute for a restaurant. The manager, a Ms Phang, was good to me, especially when I was recovering from some bug or other illness. I don't normally grieve over a restaurant's packing up, but this felt like the loss of a relative.

But if I had, could I make a difference?

If only I had tried to find the answer; now it may remain a mystery.

The Serama Breeder

Vox Pop: "Serama Breeder & Operations
Director", Off The Edge, December 2008

A regular feature of Off The Edge is something called the "Vox Pop" - profiles of people who generally don't make it to the news, but whom we see often. It could be anybody.

The interviews are quite enlightening. The lives of people that are usually referred to as "normal folks" can have extraordinary chapters. Their backgrounds, lifestyles, experiences and work... I've learned a lot more from these than I could ever glean from online research.

One such interview was a great example. The serama breeder and operations director of Serama Corp is an expert in his field who has won competitions and met the King of Thailand. Many folks I know haven't had that opportunity.

Look how proud he is of his birds. He has several reasons to be.

I still remember the shrill crowing of the tiny roosters, and I still get gaping jaws and saucer-sized eyes when I recount the tale of the RM2,000 pint-sized chicken - edible, and reputedly possesses medicinal properties. An adult serama is about half the size of an average chicken, and its survival rate is lower. The animal does take some dedication to raise - how many would want that kind of life?

This was also one of the few pieces that used my photos, taken with my Canon Powershot A580. The crowing serama rooster is one of my best to date.