Year-End Travails Of 2010

So long, 2010. Where have you been all this time?

Though this year seemed a little slower, it still feels like it just whizzed past. I thought I'd end the year with an update before it disappears completely. I'd returned from a tiring hot springs weekend retreat at Sg Klah, Perak, feeling not the least rested or relaxed. It still smarts here and there.

I quit my job this year with Off The Edge, which was shut down six weeks afterwards. My dalliance with freelancing came to nought, and towards the end of the year, I was keen to return to full-time employment. I'm now an editor at a publishing house, a job I intend to keep for a long, long while.

In my previous job, my writing suffered somewhat, a persistent word drought. To have words flowing freely again after so long is a joy. I think it's the close proximity with volumes and volumes of written work. I was never bored. Book-related work - hell, book-related anything - seems to be good for me.

Readings @ Seksan's, December 2010

Which is probably why I found the return of Readings @ Seksan's in December just as refreshing after a one-month hiatus. I arrived uncharacteristically early.

Characteristically, the guests and readers for the month arrived late. Since there was no session in November, I wondered if the turnout would be bigger this time.

Not quite.

This Readings session had a more artsy, poetic crowd. A young doctor called Fadz, performance poet kG Krishnan and Youtube sensation Azwan Ismail were among the readers. Eeleen Lee was absent because of a family tragedy. Dr Fadz's story about a doctor (naturally) who was treating his dying brother and kG at his melancholic best complimented the cloudy weather - a casual observation. Both write beautifully.

Left to right: Maizura Abas, Jeremy Chin, Azwan Ismail

Azwan's excerpt from a gay-themed short story from the compilation Orang Macam Kita or "People Like Us" provided some laughs. The reaction to his Youtube video, however, was so not funny. Said video, a message of hope for abused and persecuted members of the LGBT community, was taken offline after death threats were made against him. The authorities, as far as I know, have been very vocal about his sexuality but silent on the death threats.

A surprise appearance by Imran Ahmad was an opportunity to ask for his contact and an autographed copy of a limited edition of his book, Unimagined. Turns out Imran is looking for a local distributor for Unimagined, and maybe someone to translate it to Malay for the local market.

Left to right: Fadz, Imran Ahmad, kG Krishnan

I promised I would try and help. Our bookshelves are in need of something funny and uplifting, and Unimagined fits the bill. Scott Pack, formerly Head Buyer of bookstore chain Waterstone's in the UK, correctly predicted it would be a hit. Why wouldn't it sell here? Shying away from this book because of the subtitle "Muhammad, Jesus and James Bond" would be a shame.

Since I already attended his talk, it wasn't as funny third time around. It was still the same excerpts: second place at the Karachi's Bonniest Baby contest, spam, pork sausages, fish and chips, and why he can't be an actor. For those who were listening to him the first time, I can say it's most likely his flu. What is he doing here? The man should be in bed. Otherwise, he should be in show business. I don't think talk-show hosts or stand-up comedians need to snog anyone.

What was on sale

I also gave my contact details to Maizura Abas, a young new mother who took Sharon Bakar's writing course and started churning out lots of stuff, mostly on being a new mom. One of her pieces ended up in a Chicken Soup compilation for young moms, which was due next March. Her candid accounts of the travails of motherhood are fun and honest. I think Imran approved.

New author Jeremy Chin was there with the missus. He was reading too, and it was his birthday. Sharon got everybody to sing him the birthday song. After his turn at the mic, she encouraged him with the words of David Davida, formerly of Penguin India, something about good authors having an abandoned first novel in the drawer. I picked up a copy of his book, Fuel, a story about how passion drives a man.

I remember this book. Bald, cheerful, self-effacing Chin appeared at a previous Readings and mentioned a self-published first novel. He was there at Imran's Annexe gig as well, sharing a booth with Amir Muhammad and selling copies of said novel. I bought their books with some degree of trepidation. The girlfriend kept reminding me we were saving up for a house.

Several days later, she had gobbled up both books before I could even finish half of either. Unimagined charmed her with its honest hilarity. The language in Fuel held her spellbound, and its ending made her weep. It's the kind of writing - deep, introspective, well-crafted and polished - that I used to want to do, but couldn't.

No, I haven't read it yet, but I had little reason to doubt the girl. She's never been wrong about food, and she isn't wrong about the books she's read so far.

It didn't help that Chin, who worked at an ad agency before he quit to write the book, is also a creative wiz. Look at his business card. Look at the web sites he's worked on. Look at the cover of Fuel. Minimalist designs with maximum impact. Especially the book cover, which gives little idea of the power in its pages.

There's a Malay proverb about still waters and crocodiles. In this case, what jumped out was that 40-foot dinosaur-eating terror some fossil hunter found in the Sahara.

Man, I was so taken in.

Power Of The Outraged, Helpless Masses

Now at the CSR Digest web site: one of the few book reviews not for the newspapers.

This was one kind of hard-to-review book, and it kind of shows in my writing. But it was a nice change from the usual stuff I look at.

Thanks to Daniel Chandranayagam for the opportunity to review this book and contribute to CSR Digest, and apologies for holding on to the book for so long. I hope he found it more enjoyable than I did.

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The World That Changes The World

first published in the CSR Digest, 24 November 2010


Thanks to modern technology, bad news are delivered with great speed and in huge amounts. We are barraged by "Have you heard?", "OMG!", and of course, "Look at this!", which is often followed by "Spread the word!" or, if you're on Facebook, "Please 'Like' This." So far, over 200,000 Malaysian Facebook users have stated their objection to the latest addition to the KL skyline, and possible white elephant: a 100-storey steel, glass and concrete masterpiece.

As attested by the popularity of such campaigns, the sense of outrage and helplessness engendered by bad news can be a tremendous force. Imagine the things it can help achieve if harnessed.

Media, technology, and social responsibility are just several of the cogs in an even bigger system. The social ecosystem, touted by the Lien Centre for Social Innovation as "The World That Changes The World". It is also the title of the book, which the Centre hopes will explain the environment where corporate social responsibility (CSR), perhaps the most visible aspect of social responsibility, is but a drop in a huge ocean.

The social ecosystem, as the Centre puts it, is "a pulsing, thriving community of very diverse, at times divisive players, all driven by a common mission: to change the world for the better." This ecosystem is populated by those who need help (beneficiaries); those who help (social purpose organisations); and those who help the helpers (capacity builders). The last two include "more than 20,000 international groups", who spend more than the current US debt (US$1.9 trillion) annually, and provide "more than 4.8 million full-time jobs", with the help of the wider community (helpless, outraged people), the media (Facebook), and governments.

In this book, twenty-one thinkers, captains of industry and leaders in their fields from around the world provide their perspectives and insights into the complex social ecosystem, two of whom are also the book's editors: chairman Willie Cheng, and manager Sharifah Mohamed, both from the Centre.

Other contributing authors include Chris Cusano, ASEAN Change Leader for Ashoka: Innovators for the Public; Jonathan S Huggett, Visiting Fellow at the Skoll Centre for Social Entrepreneurship, Oxford University; Dr Geoff Mulgan, director of the Young Foundation in London; Dr Kumi Naidoo, executive director of Greenpeace International; Dr Thomas Menkhoff from Singapore Management University; and Laurence Lien, CEO of the National Volunteer & Philanthropy Centre in Singapore, and chairman of the Lien Foundation.

In the first two chapters, the editors introduce us to the concept of the social ecosystem: the components, the forces behind it, and the changes to it that are happening now, or might happen in thefuture. Essays from the other authors describe and discuss aspects of the ecosystem: beneficiaries, social purpose entities, capacity builders, community, government, change enablers and macro-trends. The end result is a collection of essays most likely targeted at the very same players described within. Given the scope of the book and the logistics involved, there's little doubt that it's a serious, exhaustive undertaking.

While the mission to create a holistic, complete, detailed view of the social ecosystem has more or less been achieved, there appears to be no inclination on the authors' part to put all that knowledge and insight in more... accessible terms. The writing is staid, very textbook, perhaps in keeping with the need for a uniform voice across the pages, and to emphasise the gravity of the issues, problems and solutions being discussed.

The numerous endnotes suggest further reading is required. Just as well, since the various topics presented in this book would, perhaps, already have entire treatises of their own, written by others eager to get to the bottom of things. Gastroenterology & Medicine International's Tan Chi Chiu's essay is noteworthy for his inclusion of Abe Maslow's pyramid of needs and a famous John Lennon song to brighten up his extensively researched, and somewhat depressing essay of just how many people out there need help.

There is also a lot of cross-referencing as well. Ashoka founder Bill Drayton mentioned his organisation in the foreword. At one point, Willie Cheng notes that "...Organizations such as the Young Foundation and the Lien Centre for Social Innovation are dedicated to fostering the cause of social innovation."

Bill Drayton is mentioned in IJ Partners' Maximillian Martin's writing on "transformative leaders", as an example of leaders who possess "engineering leadership", together with Bill Gates. These people and organisations may be the closest, credible examples within reach of a stressed, time-starved author, but at first glance, such referencing can be perceived as self-promotion or mutual apple-polishing.

The World That Changes The World is a notable effort by the Centre to piece together a credible primer to the overall social landscape, a world that the rest of us only see in glimpses. However, one wonders what the average layperson would make of it all, if this book was meant for the average layperson to begin with.

---

The World That Changes The World

How Philanthropy, Innovation and Entrepreneurship are Transforming the Social Ecosystem

edited by Willie Cheng, Sharifah Mohamed
Jossey-Bass (2010)
Non-Fiction
388 pages
ISBN: 978-0-470-82715-4

A Cool Brew

My first solo assignment for Going Places was quite an adventure.

I've only had a passing interest for herbal tea. Late nights and a love of hot, spicy foods have given me lots of heat-related problems. It wasn't until this assignment came along that I began to learn more.

Pages 54 and 55 of "A Cool Brew", Going Places, October 2010

Compressing over 2,000 words of notes into a 1,200-word piece was hard, almost as hard as figuring out the names, attributes and properties of the common Chinese herbs used in the more common herbal teas. The ubiquitous bei zhi cao or puk ji chou, for instance, is either made of the Chinese cinquefoil, or some other herb with similar properties. And the baihua sheshecao apparently has two Latin aliases.

Pages 56 and 57 of "A Cool Brew", Going Places, October 2010

Last page of "A Cool Brew",
Going Places, October 2010

My adventures into the lives of these herbal tea vendors unearthed more than what the allotted space could hold. I must've drunk more herbal brews in the weeks of leg work than what I would usually take in a year.

The life of a herbal tea vendor is hard. Virtually everyone I spoke to agreed that they are most likely the last generation to man their stalls, which have decades of history behind them. While some vendors have gone big (such as Hor Yan Hor, now Hovid Berhad), many others will eventually disappear. I've patronised stalls such as Hu Zhong Tian near Petaling Street, which I still remember from my Informatics College days. I can't imagine stalls like that disappearing entirely.

But they will, eventually. Bottled, canned and packet herbal teas are finding their way to shelves at supermarkets, hypermarkets and your neighbourhood 7-Eleven or Chinese medicine hall. For slightly more traditional households, pre-packaged herbs for some common herbal teas are available at many Chinese medicine halls.

The editing and photography are, as usual, excellent. Thanks also to Hovid Berhad, and the herbal tea vendors who helped make this article possible.

Future Of Book Reviews

Ellen Whyte called me up out of the blue for input for this article, published in the current issue of MPH's Quill (October - December 2010). I said quite a few things during the phone interview, but I can't remember exactly what.

I think it's the first time I've been interviewed for an article. My bit is right near the end.

"Making Web 2.0 Work for You", MPH Quill, October - December 2010

Turns out it's more about social media on the Web than just about book reviews, which Whyte also (more or less) covers in the same issue. That article was more interesting, as it talks about one thing I do for a living.

I am not, by any means, the only book reviewer out there. Anybody can set up a blog and post reviews of books they've read. What probably helps a reviewer stand out is how he/she can make the book sound interesting, metaphorically taking it apart and pointing out the gems hidden within, and telling readers why they should care about them.

However, with sites such as Goodreads and LibraryThing, whither book reviewing? All one needs, perhaps, is a look at the allocated number of stars or positive reviews for a book to make a decision on whether or not to read. Given their prices, many paper tomes are more like investments, in terms of money and time spent.

I want to keep reviewing books for as long as I can, as long as I'm allowed to. But with technology helping us kill the things we used to love and have time for (such as reading books), do I really want to go hi-tech all the way?

Readings With A Runny Nose

Just my luck to be at a Readings when my nose is running like a leaky tap. Of course, I also couldn't remember if I had my dose of Telfast-D that day. Accidental double dose? Probably not with thing containing pseudoephedrine.

One thing I noticed when I walked into the exhibition area.

Truth be told, Readings was never quite the same without the piggies. So glad they were back. And just in time. They had a great line-up this time, half of whom did some form of poetry, or were poets themselves.

Quite a few books on sale this time, mostly from Matahari Books and ZI Publications. By now, I'm more forgiving of participants plugging their books during these sessions, even more so of first-time authors or publishers. Sometimes, they don't even have a platform for plugging.

I had no pictures of the first half of the session. To my dismay, my rechargeable batteries emptied themselves, less than two weeks after I last charged them. I went out for plain old alkaline batteries during the intermission. I'll be switching to Sony CycleEnergy.

A notable presence was Australian hip-hop artiste and poet Omar Musa, winner of the 2008 Australian Poetry Slam. Omar was, like Oz's new finance minister Penny Wong and some of the people I met in Melbourne last year, from here (he was born in Sabah).

After some poems that aren't really poems (there was one about Nike Air Force Ones and his grandma back in Sabah), he wrapped up his turn with a rap piece about... warning the audience about the dangers of forgetfulness? I forget. All I remembered was that it was good, and it mentioned food.

What I won't forget after that evening was to take my goddamn runny-nose meds at least three hours before leaving the house.

Another poet, Shivani Siva, recited several pieces, including one about an evening at the National Mosque under a yam-coloured sky, a python on the road, and a love poem with blood. I didn't see her after the intermission.

Jacqueline-Ann Surin needed no introduction. After launching Found in Malaysia on 16 September, she came with one of Those Effing Guys, Ezra Zaid, to sell a few copies of the book.

She read a few extracts from it, where interviewees for their "Found in Malaysia" segment spoke about May 13. The next edition will be interesting, because one of their recent interviewees was Ibrahim Ali. No, really. Not talkin' $#!+.

Thato Ntshabele, winner of Poetry Underground's Poetry Cup for August, came with his friend Andrew. Both are Batswana, and currently studying at Limkokwing. Their pieces were written for Botswana's Independence Day, and it was their turn after the intermission.

Andrew's piece, a moving tribute to his country and its youth, was so similar in context to a dignitary's speech he heard, Andrew was curious about "what he was smoking."

Thato's paean to home was titled, "Pula". Pula is Botswana's motto, and the name of its currency. The word means "rain", and since much of the country is also part of the Kalahari desert, "rain" also means "blessing".

By the time they were done, some of us may have wondered what they were smoking, and if it works for us, too.

Amir Muhammad's turn was a bit democratic. "Politics, religion, or sex?" he asked the audience, before reading the corresponding topic picks out of his two books: Rojak (politics, or more precisely, the satirical "subversive sign language" short story) and 120 Malay Movies (sex).

Food and sex were dished out by Hisham Rais, the last reader for the afternoon. He read excerpts from Tapai, a collection of his articles written for Off The Edge. The "wandering bon vivant" and prison food connoisseur at one point went on about satay, wine pairings, the chemistry in the smell of tripe and other things.

The other piece was a review of Pavilion KL's Carat Club, which sold food and diamond jewelry. I still remember the piece; Bluetoffee Press editor and Off The Edge reader See Tshiung Han wrote in about it, noting that the chef's name had three different spellings - "pretty unfortunate mistakes" that I missed. I never lived it down, and I told him so. I think I also promised him a drink for doing my work for me that time.

Dessert was a letter - a "book review" - from a concerned, well-meaning reader. He translated each sentence of the Bahasa Melayu (or "Bahasa Orang Asli"/native language, as he put it) letter into English.

As I suspected then, as is often the case with Rais, it had to do with his "drinking and wenching problems". Towards the end, the writer hoped that nobody from JAKIM (our Department of Islamic Development) would read this book, and that he would "find his way again". An English re-reading of each sentence was unnecessary - in either language, the letter was hilarious.

We were all so wrapped up in Rais' witty, boisterous and bawdy delivery, we forgot about the two children in the audience. It was perhaps the best education they - and the rest of us - received this year.

(Not Quite) A Tribute to Dr Mahathir

When I first got word about this assignment, I was quite... nervous. At first I thought they were sending Andrew Sia for this one. At the time, I felt I didn't command the vocabulary or the experience to do it justice.

Now that it's out, I'm so relieved, and I don't want to continue with this preamble.

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A tribute to Dr Mahathir
Muzikal Tun Mahathir marks the milestones in the former premier's life.

first published in The Star, 29 September 2010

Tun Dr Mahathir Mohamad was the only Prime Minister my generation knew when we were growing up. We don't really need reminders of just how important he is. The tributes to him, since he left office in 2003, have been almost ceaseless. So we should have seen this coming.

The staging of Muzikal Tun Mahathir was said to coincide with the Merdeka month and Malaysia Day celebrations. The story starts from Tun's birth and highlights include life during the Japanese Occupation, his medical school days, meeting and marrying Tun Dr Siti Hasmah Mohd Ali, running Klinik Maha, writing The Malay Dilemma, his time as Prime Minister, and his "departure" from politics. The production ends with an ageing Tun lamenting the Malays' need for crutches, and his vow to continue the struggle.

The production is, if I read correctly, a tribute to the man; the producers wanted to stage a theatre piece about a national figure who's still alive. Tun's letter is reproduced in the programme as a stamp of approval. "I have no objections to plans for a musical about me," said Tun in the letter. "My only hope is that it's based on fact."

And they just had to have a Mahathir family member in the cast: Tun's youngest son, Mazhar, who plays two minor roles.

Let me clarify: I'm no fan of Tun's, but that's not why I didn't like the musical very much. It looked like Istana Budaya had huge aspirations for the play, judging from the casting, the grand set pieces, and flashy computer graphics projected against a big white backdrop. To the average Joe, it's just another lavish, star-studded piece of populist theatre.

Many of the 27 chapters (says the programme) of the over-two-hour musical representing the milestones in Tun's eventful life were so short, they could have probably done without them. For instance, did they need to have the actor playing Tun Razak giving a speech on why the New Economic Policy was needed back then? All that's probably in our bones.

Then we have scenes like the one that featured megaprojects such as the Sepang F1 Circuit, KLCC and Putrajaya, and Tun's devastated supporters at a nasi kandar restaurant who tuned in to his teary 2002 announcement.

Got a copy of the programme? Just look at the lyrics to some of the songs. Imagine "The Tun is great!" being tattooed onto each little grey cell in one's brain.

The main cast members didn't look like they were being challenged by their stage roles. Erra Fazira played Dr Siti Hasmah quite well, never mind my suspicions she was also a popular choice.

I felt a bit sorry for Datuk Jalaluddin Hassan; the man has a huge presence, but was cast as Tun's father, who didn't get a lot of lines or stage time.

The actors playing Tun from childhood to adulthood seemed quite convincing. Esma Daniel in particular was very much the Dr M I grew up watching on TV – right down to the drawl and mannerisms – during a "live telecast interview" with Misha Omar as a journalist.

The dialogue and jokes, with a mix of rather contemporary English and Bahasa Malaysia, certainly made the production more enjoyable. Tapi, pada tahun 60an dan 70an ada orang pakai ke, "U" and "I" (But in the 70s and 60s, do people say "U" and "I")? Ada Poslaju ke (have Pos Laju) in the late 1960s? Thanks to the strong background music and the speakers' powerful reverbs, it was hard to make out the dialogue, lyrics or punchlines, which was a real shame.

The programme book does highlight the featured parts of Tun's life but does not describe the lesser-known characters. Mohd Qhauhd Abd Rashid, for instance, plays this "Aziz" character, but there is no further mention of who "Aziz" is.

Not all the chapters were properly explained, either. The only clues to what Chapter 26: "Peak Dance Drama" supposedly depicts, with its arm band-tearing and keris-waving, came later from Wikipedia. The on-screen dates seemed to coincide with the terms of Tun's three deputies: Musa Hitam, Ghafar Baba and Anwar Ibrahim.

Nor was the night trouble-free. In a chapter about a covert, late-night anti-Malayan Union poster plastering, a piece of one of the fake columns broke off and fell onto the stage as it was being lowered. Nobody was injured, but I was sure plenty of nervous glances were directed at the ceiling thereafter.

When Misha took the stage to deliver one last song, the amplified vocals spluttered, and died about halfway through. But Misha didn't quit. She rose to the occasion by singing anyway, her unamplified voice barely audible from my seat. The audience applauded.

Misha boleh!

Finally, one of the stagehands gallantly offered her a microphone so she could finish the song.

When the cast took their bow, the applause for Misha was among the loudest.

I guess, in the end, the musical is not really about Tun Mahathir, but about a bunch of artistes and stars, and Istana Budaya giving their all for a good night's entertainment.

There were technical errors and onstage glitches, but everyone did their best to keep the show going until the curtains fell. That spirit, at least, is worthy of support, regardless of how one feels about the man.

Found in Malaysia

It was perhaps fitting that something titled "Found in Malaysia" would be launched on Malaysia Day. 16 September 1963 was when Persekutuan Tanah Melayu became Malaysia, after Sabah, Sarawak and Singapore joined (the latter seceded a few years later). Some forty years later, it seems the idea of a "Malaysia" is still kind of hazy.

This country appears fond of pigeon-holing us into firmly defined circles to satisfy some strange sense of security: The Other easier to spot if it is marked as different. Really? What about China, where everyone looks the same? For a more contemporary reference, read some of the recent headlines. We are, it seems, our worst enemies.

Found in Malaysia is also the title of a series of interviews by online editorial "The Nut Graph". When some Umno man called non-Malays "pendatang" or squatters, it was the reporter who reported it that got (briefly) detained as a security threat. The book is a compilation of some fifty "Found in Malaysia" interviews that have been published online. One aim, is perhaps to show that even though there may be a little pendatang in all of us, we're Malaysians first, thank you very much.

The launch of the book at Leonardo's Dining Room & Wine Loft, along Jalan Bangkung, was officiated by The Nut Graph's editor, Jacqueline-Ann Surin. A panel discussion about politics and Malaysian literature followed. Journalist and lit-critic Umapagan Ampikaipakan moderated the panel, made up of author Chuah Guat Eng, scholar and poet Eddin Khoo, lawyer and poet Cecil Rajendra, and politician Zaid Ibrahim, who arrived a bit late.

Chuah Guat Eng tentatively laid some blame on the education system for the current state of literature in the country. I remember fondly the English literature classes during my school days - who knew that the Education Ministry pulled the subject out of the curriculum, when Anwar Ibrahim was in charge?

Chuah also said the general Malaysian population don't seem to "get" fiction as much as they do non-fiction - something to do with the lack of imagination, I think. "When I wrote in the first person, it was assumed to be 'autobiographical'," she recalled, speaking of her book, Days of Change. "When I wrote as a Malay male, they assumed that I once had an affair with one."

Did I hear that right? I had a voice recorder with me that day, but the battery went flat. I could have sworn I recharged it less than a month ago...

Cecil Rajendra was even more blunt where our lack of a reading culture was concerned. "About ten percent of Malaysians read", he thundered, "and out of that ten percent, about 0.01 percent read poetry." He recalled people reading in airports at Dublin and Abu Dhabi, but when he returned to KL, "nobody was reading" - "culture shock," he called it.

With regards to imagination, Eddin Khoo noted that the need to dream or imagine is stronger in oppressed countries. "Works out of post-communist Russia came nowhere near what was produced during, say, Stalin's time," he said. During the Suharto regime, one could be jailed for 25 years just for having a copy of Pramoedya Ananta Toer's Bumi Manusia ("This Earth of Mankind"). Malaysians, he remarked, are more fortunate. "We're not oppressed enough." I hope nobody from the Special Branch were taking notes.

Khoo also touched on the tendency of some Asian writers to overly romanticise their past, "trotting out their grandmothers," as he said. "Rice mothers, Japanese lovers, mangoes falling from my grandma's tree... ." I empathised with that sentiment. After flipping through a few pages of Rice Mother some time back, I didn't feel like reading the rest.

Earlier, Khoo also said that the home is where the habit can be nurtured. This probably explains why my reading preferences have always leaned towards non-fiction. I grew up reading encyclopaedias, issues of Reader's Digest, and later, stuff such as TIME and National Geographic. Why do we need other worlds, anyway? Looking glasses, magic wardrobes and intergalactic vessels, as I understand, are hard to come by. As a Discovery Channel slogan goes, "The world is just awesome." Despite its flaws, it still is.

Chuah was almost livid when the others were done painting a depressing picture of Malaysian literature. So what if there are stumbling blocks, political consciousness, and the like, she asked exasperatedly. "Can't we use our imagination to write around them?"

She gave one example: Lloyd Fernando's 1976 novel Scorpion Orchid, which was extensively written about. On the surface, it seems to be about racial conflict, but Chuah contended that it was about nationhood, a discourse on social integration in the 1970s. To see things like that, she said, one has to be trained to look at how writers write.

Even though he's a politician, I found a lot of Zaid Ibrahim's responses and replies disappointingly "safe" and politically correct.

So who can save Malaysian literature? How do we create readers and writers? "Institutions can play a role, but we cannot completely depend on them," was Khoo's reply to an audience member's question. "The autodidact, the person who educates himself, is the most important educator."

It was an interesting discussion, and Khoo made what I thought was a pertinent point. With our so-called leaders playing power games and our institutions seemingly sliding further down international rankings, perhaps it falls upon each and every one of us who can to learn, not just to read and write, but to better ourselves as well.

But I also wonder: Do we really have what it takes?