This Could Be Purr-a, Purr-a, Purr-a-dise

"Okay, hold still," I told the subject of my smartphone camera photo shoot. The angle wasn't quite right and I was receiving no cooperation. "Aren't you a shy one," I noted with mild exasperation.

When it wasn't attempting to vanish, my subject refused to look at the lens, preferring to squirm or roll around - probably immediate priorities. After all, it wasn't human.

On a hunt for two bakeries: Bake Plan and Dotty's, I stumbled upon the Purradise Cat Café after finding Dotty's closed for the day; the doors are shut at 5pm. Needing a break, I climbed the stairs to the café on the first floor. No shoes are allowed after the foyer.

Purradise had, I thought, more felines than another similar establishment at SS15 in Subang Jaya. Seems all of them are rescued strays (one of them apparently just came in and stayed), and patrons are allowed to adopt any kitty they fancy. There must've been about twelve, and all of them are named.

For RM15, patrons get one drink and an hour in the café; an additional RM3 is charged for every 15 minutes afterwards. Anything else, including food and drink, is also extra. Wanna spend a full day there? It's RM39, plus a drink. The charges and time limits were imposed to keep the number of patrons low, I was told.

From their Facebook page:

Purradise Cat Café is a social enterprise with an aim to support and improve animal welfare and their holistic wellbeing. Our ultimate goal is to foster rescue cats and socialize them to a loving environment before finding them their furrever homes. Purradise Cat Café operates within a self-sustaining business model, where proceeds from the café will be reinvested into supporting pet fostering and re-homing initiatives.

Of course, being a cat person, I wasn't really into the hot chocolate I picked. All I cared about were all the furry four-legged critters that owned the place.

An atsroturfed part near the window was done up to look like a picnic spot, with tables and beanbags. The main area was split between a park and sitting area, with a huge table in between. Ledges, ramps and shelves allowed the cats to move and leap around as cats do.

Some of these ledges were made to look like clouds and hot air balloon baskets, so that the kitties can lounge or sleep on them, away from prying eyes. It is as cat-friendly a place as can be.

Here's a cat. I think its name is "Yuki". It's the only skinny-ish white cat with a collar.

Here's another cat. Methinks this be "Patches" in the foreground - also easy to ID, as it's the only cat with black and white patches. I'm not sure (and didn't bother to find out) who the other cat is.

Here's another cat. I gave up trying to ID individuals early on. They're all SQUEE.

And another cat.

And another. This one was perched on one of the narrow wooden planks that bridged one side of the café with the other.

A couple more.

More cats by the kitchen door. They know there's something nice behind it. Which is why they're not allowed inside.

The photo collage of the current residents didn't help. As far as I was concerned they were all "Cat". And it seems the collage wasn't up to date.

I hadn't planned on dropping by, so I didn't manhandle any of the cats. Not that I knew how. And I was drinking chocolate, which is, along with tea and coffee, lethal to cats and some animals. I didn't spill anything, but I wanted to be careful.

So, yes, my (okay) hot chocolate remained mostly ignored throughout my stay, as I stalked the resident cats making their rounds and naps around Purradise. The beverage didn't leave much of an impression. It came in a white takeaway sippy cup with a black cover and it was really HOT.

I was more impressed by the cats and how the place was done up to accommodate these cuddly killing machines. Left alone, cats can kill a lot of tiny animals. Don't just take The Oatmeal's word for it.

Speaking of which, the café has this.

Exploding Kittens is a card game The Oatmeal had a hand in making. This Kickstarter project exceeded the goal of US$10,000 in eight minutes and racked up over US$8.5 million in pledges by the end of the campaign.

No, I didn't try the game. Nobody to play it with.

I thought it was a nice touch.

I was also reluctant to leave. But it was dusk and I had to go home. Another day at work awaited. At least I was relaxed enough to go back on the road again.

Then I encountered a traffic jam and I wished I stayed back a while longer. It would've been worth the additional RM12.

Purradise is more of a petting zoo and chill-out place than a café, and that's fine. I was already sold on the idea after visiting the Subang cat café. This place also has a mission I'm all for.

When one can't be bothered with road trips outstation or local hotel-based mini-vacations, an afternoon with a dozen or so cats and a beverage and a snack in this corner of Taman Tun Dr Ismail is just as relaxing.

If you aren't allergic to or afraid of cats.

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Purradise Cat Café

1st Floor, No. 24A
Jalan Tun Mohd Fuad 2
Taman Tun Dr Ismail
60000 Kuala Lumpur

Tue-Fri: 2pm-10pm
Sat-Sun: 11am-11pm

Closed on Mondays

+603-2389 0976

Web site | Facebook page

Maudlin Monday

Yesterday, while my PC was booting up, it hung. It was around 9pm.

Not quite the way I wanted to wind down for the evening.

After several failed attempts at rebooting, I opened the casing of the CPU, wiped off a bit of dust - how does all that stuff find its way in? - and rebooted it again, sans a couple of USB extension cables.

Success - and out came the external hard drives.

This episode was significant because it finally drove home the realities of our flagging economy. This, along with the fact that I paid about RM12 more for a water filter element last weekend as opposed to last year.

This wasn't a good time for the PC to start failing. Things breaking down and requiring repair or replacement almost always happens when 1) I'm too busy; 2) I need to use the damn things at the moment; 3) the money needs to go somewhere else, or 4) I'm broke.

The renewed realisation of how much I'm dependent on these devices frightens me.
Not long ago, I was babysitting two of these: the desktop and a laptop computer. Now, it's the desktop and a smartphone, which I adopted nearly fourteen years since I bought my first mobile phone, a Nokia 3310 that only began showing its age middle of last year.

They just don't make 'em like that anymore. If these weren't meant to last you'd think they'd be a little cheaper.

So I guess this is a call to action. I've made several such calls for one reason or another (which were ignored for one reason or another) but I think This Is It.

Time to save - and bid a sad temporary farewell to some favourite haunts. Time to declutter all the junk in the PC and the apartment. Time to increase my net worth - #2kerja, here I come?

Maybe it's also time to take the computer to the shop, provided that the problem persists. I've asked around and concluded that it could be the CMOS battery, but it could also be the hard drive.

Of course, now I tend to be afraid to boot up the machine. So while it was working, I scheduled a blog post for tomorrow after backing up all the files. The post will have cats in it because I - as well as the rest of the Internet - need to feel better, probably after the news.

(It's been a while since I wrote things like this. Maybe because I didn't see the point of it.)

Book Marks: Wondermark, Missing Booksellers

How the heck I've lived without Wondermark? I learnt about this comic from sci-fi author John Scalzi (I think) who tweeted about the practice of sealioning by some Twitter users over Republican presidential nominee Ted Cruz (seriously?).

I've gone through the archives and found this (I think it's about people who want to write but don't get down to it) and this (I think it's about fairy tales, but I was wowed by the punch line).

So. Bookmarking. This.

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The mystery over some Hong Kong booksellers' disappearances deepens. Though there was talk that Chinese agents were responsible, one blogger (whose post I just linked, and who's talking about this more than I think he does - perhaps for good reason) thinks it might be a PR stunt by the publisher in question.

Thing is, the net effect of these alleged abductions is probably what China's government wanted to achieve. A chill seems to have descended upon the bookstores in Hong Kong. "Bookshops are removing political works from their shelves," goes the AFP report in The Malay Mail Online, "while publishers and store owners selling titles banned in mainland China say they now feel under threat."


Other stuff:

• The deputy PM wants Malaysia to take the Nobel Prize winner for literature by or around 2057. A commenter has issued a retort, pointing out - among other things - that the arts is still not seen as a viable (read: profitable) career choice in this country. I've nothing to add. Malas nak komen.
• So that guy's book, Mein Kampf, has entered public domain. So did Anne Frank's diary, by the way - an interesting parallel. I've made notes of Mein Kampf's impending entry into public domain, so I'll just leave this one here. I still think attempts to block its publication is futile, even more so now.
• No taboo should be off limits when writing for teenagers, says author Non Pratt. And here's Pratt sharing her "helpful" post on how she edits her work, which she wrote for the blog Author Allsorts.
• "It turns out that fantasy—the established domain of British children’s literature—is critical to childhood development." Why the British tell better children's stories.
• With the sale of Author Solutions, Penguin Random House exits self-publishing, sticks to "traditional publishing". Does that mean Amazon is now the dominant force in the multibillion-dollar self-publishing market?
• The Dag Hammarskjöld Library at the United Nations announced its most-checked-out publication of 2015: a volume (or, more accurately, a thesis) on how to avoid war crime charges (awkwaaaaard). Any bets this will also be a popular item this year?
• Used bookstores are, it seems, making a comeback. Many factors have been cited, but none that's probably more compelling "than the experience of browsing — getting lost in the stacks, making serendipitous finds, having chance conversations with interesting people. And with information so easy to find these days, used bookstores offer the thrill of the hunt." Coming back from the recent Big Bad Wolf Book Sale, I'm inclined to agree.
• There's a discussion on Quora about the absence of science fiction from Chinese culture. Quite a few good arguments. I'm more inclined to concur with the fact that the Chinese tend to look backward - towards history, mythology and maybe old wuxia (martial arts pugilist) novels - for anything related to the fantastical for inspiration. With such a huge trove going back centuries, why look forward?
  
  But I think such a tendency might hamper attempts to, say, visualise the future, or lead to oversaturation of related genres (look at the numerous adaptations of Jin Yong's and Gu Long's works).
• After 66 years, light is shed on "Francis Duncan", author of a Christmas murder mystery that's being reissued and getting critical acclaim.
• So, you want to work in publishing? Here's some advice from an editor at Chronicle Books. Quite a few salient points.

"Who's Bad?" In Jagat, It's Not Who You Think

first published in The Malay Mail Online, 05 January 2015


When the mostly good reviews trickled in, I held fast because this was the sort of film I dreaded. I've never been a cinema buff, and watching an upsetting film isn't how I would want to spend an afternoon.

In the end, my curiosity won out. I went to a cinema, plonked myself in front of a big screen on a public holiday, and learnt that my suspicions (and the rave reviews) about the film were right.

My interest about the locally-produced, mostly Tamil film Jagat was also stoked by how much it reminded me of other works that revolved around a similar premise: the plight of marginalised Malaysian Indians who were left to their own devices after being kicked out of the estates where they have lived and worked for generations.

Jagat (Tamil slang for "bad") zooms in on a particular family, and how circumstances can keep them trapped in a vicious cycle of poverty and crime. In spite of his creative talents and out-of-the-box thinking, young Shankar a.k.a. Appoy is seen as a disappointment by his father Maniam. Appoy's uncle, Dorai, joins a gang with a friend. Both are promised the keys to getting ahead: for Appoy, good grades in the exams; and for Dorai, a thug's life.

Ironically, for Appoy, the education system and family unit which is supposed to be his lifeline wears him down instead. He's given a bad grade for his short composition (Saya Sebatang Pensel — remember that one?), which his dad berates him for. Pencils do not fly in the real world, he is told.

Watching Appoy being broken down is painful. Like the powers that be hell-bent on putting him in his place, this bully of a film knows where it hurts and how to hurt you. Every few minutes, something shocking, angering or saddening sneaks up and punches you in the gut.

When Appoy poses in a workmanlike Michael Jackson get-up he made from bits and pieces scavenged from his neighbourhood for his class's fancy dress competition, we can't help but cheer. Who's bad? He is! Then his dad has a bad day at work and Appoy's efforts are wasted.

Sad thing is, though he's aware of the significance of education, Maniam would rather beat or scold this piece of wisdom into his son instead of explaining it to him (we're not sure if he's done the latter before) — which doesn't work.

Salting Appoy's wounds further is the bullying he receives from schoolmates and a teacher who is, despite what the community believes, far from divine. With his dreams and self-worth in tatters, the boy figures he has to be bad for real — like his gangster uncle (who does not approve) — to get any form of respect and validation.

The film is not short of bad guys, but it's easy to guess who the true villains are: the archaic and rigid education system, which has trouble with outliers like Appoy; the conservative attitudes in his community; racism ... the usual suspects. After all, haven't we lived with them for years?

Jagat reportedly took a decade to make, presumably due to the perfectionist streak in the writer and production crew — and all that work shows. It paints a realistic, albeit gloomy portrait of Indians in poverty — and the forces that conspire to keep them there. An amazing directorial debut by Shanjhey Kumar Perumal, who also wrote the screenplay.

Speaking to local daily The Sun, Shanjhey revealed that his background is similar to the young protagonist's. "When I was young, I wanted to be a scientist," he said. "When I became a teenager, I wanted to be a gangster instead, because I found that society seemed to have more respect for such people compared to educated people." Thank goodness he ditched that ambition.

He also hoped the film will help non-Indian Malaysians understand their Indian neighbours better. "I really believe our racial unity should be more than just eating each other's food. We should also try to understand each other's history and culture. One of the simplest ways to do that is through the arts."

Is it "simple", though? I can imagine how tough it must be to solicit funding, especially for gritty non-escapist features based on real-world problems with no apparent solution or end in sight.

And, sometimes, the message is lost on some. As I stumbled towards the exit with other moviegoers, I heard two of them loudly discussing (parts of) the experience, like Taylor Swift's appearance in one of the ads, and how one of the gangsters looked like a friend. One of them seemed have a problem with the fact that a "Datuk" (Datuk Seri A. Anandan) was the producer — not "indie" enough, perhaps?

I'd like to think that, by making Jagat, Shanjhey is encouraging the poorer kids from his former hood to aim for greater things, like becoming the scientist he never became, or a Nobel Prize-winning man of letters.

Someone who, I hope, can find a way to make pencils fly.


Jagat began screening at selected cinemas nationwide on December 17, 2015.

Also, tweaked this part for clarity.

Wade Into Wilbur Smith's Ancient Egypt

first published in The Malay Mail Online, 26 December 2015


Majestic scenery, rich history, epic battles, heroic feats and interesting characters. Plus betrayal, murder, politics and a bit of comedy — all told by a snooty eunuch slave. Welcome to Wilbur Smith's ancient Egypt.

I stumbled upon River God while browsing in a comic rental shop in the neighbourhood, which has since closed. It was so long ago, I can't remember if I'd put the book down or when I decided to get my own copy, which I had to ditch because it got so old and brown and the pages were warped.

But that world stayed with me, not just because of my interest in that bygone realm.

The novel's titular river god, Hapi, is said not to be the god of the Nile itself, but of the Nile's annual flooding, which ran like clockwork except for a few times in Egypt's long history. So he was a big deal, even if he isn't as culturally popular as Ra, Horus, Anubis or Isis.

From the details within, Smith's historic epic takes place somewhere in the Middle Kingdom period between 2000 and 1700 BC, but this has been contested. Salitis, one of the antagonists, appears about halfway through. He is believed to be the first Hyksos ruler of the kingdom, reigning during the Fifteenth Dynasty (around 1650 to 1550 BC).

So, yes, the timeline's off about several decades. However, this and other factual discrepancies (if you can find them) doesn't affect the flow and charm of the novel.

Many other characters appear to be fictional, such as Mamose VIII, the reigning pharaoh in the beginning of the novel. Gaps in Egypt's past, which are still being filled today, have become blank canvasses or pages for authors and artists, making for a richer, more fantastical historical account.

Smith's ancient Egypt unfurled like a miles-long mural, imaginary hieroglyphics and all, of a kingdom in decline, a foreign invasion, our heroes' exile and their triumphant return. Wedged in between are chapters on how our heroes: the eunuch slave Taita and his wards — the handsome young soldier Tanus and his mistress Lostris — played their part in it all.

Lyrical, immersive and vivid, with just the right amount of detail, Smith's writing puts us where the action is. In the harems, the rustle of fine linen and the fragrance of perfume. On the banks of the Nile, the splash of oars and burbling of water as boats skim across the surface of the great river. In the midst of battle, the cries of men and beasts rise above the rumble of war chariots and the clashing of weapons.

We are treated to sweeping vistas of endless desert, African savannah and mountain ranges in what could now be northern Ethiopia. We venture into the workshops of artisans as they labour on the pharaoh's tomb and, much later, follow a royal funeral procession to its destination. Our hearts tighten as we witness an elephant hunt go wrong.

And, oh, to watch an assassin's cobra being prepared and cooked by our somewhat unreliable narrator...

Taita's a treat. From time to time, the bombastic, vainglorious slave reminds us that the households and people he serves would be in even bigger trouble without him. Actor, strategist, spy, street magician, negotiator, painter, scribe, poet, playwright, inventor... he's done it all. To call him an ancient Egyptian da Vinci would probably not suffice.

Thankfully, this Marty Stu doesn't hog the papyrus. I've also come to admire the roguish, daredevil Kratas, an officer in Tanus's regiment and the young hero's wingman. Huy, a former bandit turned army officer and groom, steals the scene from Taita as he schools the self-proclaimed genius on the art of handling horses, a "new" animal in Smith's Egypt. Even the weak, vacillating Mamose VIII has his moments, including one where he looms like a thundercloud over a bunch of criminals before sentencing them.

I'm not surprised even our Tun M likes Smith's work.

Not long after I'd finished River God, I returned to the shop and borrowed the sequel. The Seventh Scroll takes place centuries later and details the search for the tomb of Mamose VIII by a more modern set of characters. This one was more of an action-adventure potboiler, like Those in Peril, so it didn't appeal as much to me.

Smith returned to Taita's Egypt years later, churning out more sequels where our slave turned hero becomes a real magician (Warlock and The Quest) and what appears to be an interquel between River God and Warlock. But I think the first novel will always rank among his best works.

Still, I didn't replace my own aged copy of River God when the chance came (sorry, Big Bad Wolf Books). Perhaps it wasn't time to revisit that world again and the painful chapters in it. Maybe it's the fear of being sucked back in there, just as I'm finding new things to read.

Or maybe it's just that these days I'm taking longer to muster the will to plough through anything longer than 500 pages.

But I urge you to. This is one adventure everyone needs to experience.


28/12/2015   One thing: There were times in Egypt's history when the banks of the Nile were not sufficiently inundated and fertilised by the silt-bearing waters. For the most part, the annual flooding ran like clockwork, until the Aswan Dam was built.

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River God

Wilbur Smith
Pan Books (2007)
672 pages
Fiction
ISBN: 9780330449939

Back To The Wolf's Den

Last week, I told a friend I was skipping this year's Big Bad Wolf book sale - and went there twice and bought the most books so far during such a sale.

And the only books I read from last year's sale were by the late Terry Pratchett.

The Big Bad Wolf Books sale - and this is just half the hall

Last year, I also found a couple of titles by the Italian crime writer Andrea Camilleri. This year, there were more than a few.

When another friend (hi, Em!) mentioned liking the series, I went back a second time and picked up a few more. I initially hesitated because I'm not much of a series-muncher. I did, and came back with a few more other titles. I think they have almost the entire series so far - I think the latest is only available in hardback, so I left it there.

This year's was a bit of an adventure. I've always followed the Sungai Besi Highway from Bukit Jalil to reach the Mines Exhibition Centre, which doesn't take long. But the journey home was different, prompting me to wonder if I could retrace my way home, the same way I came.

There was, but the route back home can be gridlocked. I think I must've spent half an hour in the traffic jam before reaching the jam-free Pesiaran Serdang Perdana, lying between the Sungai Besi Highway and the North-South Highway, to return to the Bukit Jalil area.

This year's haul - perhaps the biggest to date

Parking was not a major issue for me at the venue, though maybe I was just lucky. After a couple of visits, I noted that the piles of books change often, almost guaranteeing that some patrons will return, at least once, to see what they missed - or what the BBW team hid - the previous day.

Categorisation of the book piles need refinement. Some piles were arranged "in alphabetical order", but it's not apparent. Better book-pile organisation would also help fellow book hunters return copies they decide to abandon to their respective places.

So I left Kazuo Ishiguro's The Buried Giant stay buried; couldn't find it on the second visit. Maybe I'll leave that "Constipated Man" novel alone too, when it eventually shows up.

And dammit, Anthony Bourdain's Medium Raw is a memoir-slash-article compilation, not a cookbook. Probably why I couldn't and might never find Gabrielle Hamilton's Blood, Bones and Butter there and would have to get it from a bookstore.

Also, the Hong Leong credit card people were aggressive. A few would prowl the hall and accost patrons to get them to sign up in exchange for discounts or whatever. Have they always been like this, or does it have to do with the hard times and the recent lay-offs in some banks?

Book Marks: Still Feels Like Banned Books Week, Etc.

During the launch of her book, Dancing on Thin Ice, Marina Mahathir stated that as a writer, censorship is the biggest hurdle, according to The Malaysian Insider.

She also mentioned the threat of censorship that loomed over writers Faisal Tehrani and Farouk Peru, and considered the rape threat made to G25 spokesperson Datuk Noor Farida Ariffin as another form of censorship, particularly against women writers.

Funny that she brought up the C-word, because some related news items that caught my eye revolves around that.

A high-profile book publisher (more of a rabble-rouser, judging from what's being said about the stuff he publishes) whose work annoyed China's government disappeared in Thailand, and it's said that Beijing might be responsible. Some note that the MO is so North Korea.

Considering the impenetrability of China's bureaucracy, it's easy to accuse a government that does things like jailing dissenters and "disappearing" annoying people of such cloak-and-dagger shenanigans. On a possibly related note, a lawyer in Prague who wrote a political book has gone missing.

Egypt's state security, meanwhile, forced Egyptian novelist (and critic of the Egyptian government) Alaa al-Aswany to cancel his public seminar, "Conspiracy Theory: Between Reality and Illusion".

And more Mein Kampf woes: Marianne Taylor makes the case for publishing Hitler's notorious manifesto in Germany for first time in over seven decades. But it still seems to be problematic in the US, as the copyright is set to end.

Also in the US, Jessica Herthel, the author of I Am Jazz, a children's book based on a real-life transgendered girl, confronts the bigotry that forced a school to cancel a reading of her book, possibly due to pressure from a conservative group calling itself Liberty Counsel (yes). And schools in America are still grappling with Huckleberry Finn.

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The Malaysian Education Ministry ordered a publisher to reprint a Year Six History textbook that placed the state of Melaka somewhere in Kelantan on a map. Some people are befuddled at this error, since this publisher, which I assume is local, is neither CNN nor Fox News.

Then someone pointed out that a local news portal incorrectly said that Bintulu is a city in the East Malaysian state of Sabah, adding, "Sarawak is almost as big as the peninsula, and Sabah is this huge state with a distinctive map-shape & STILL U CANNOT GEOGRAPHY?!"

I'm so saving "U CANNOT GEOGRAPHY" for future use.

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Are rude rejection letters from publishers holding back the next JK Rowling? "Codswallop", goes one commentator. "Could publishers be nicer? Probably. So too could literary agents. But they're ploughing through hundreds of thousands of words looking for the good ones. Often the only word they don't want to use, despite them being pretty snooty, is 'no'."

I'm inclined to agree. The worst are probably those who want an explanation of why their 'scripts were rejected - and dismiss it anyway because "Do you know what I went through to write this?" and other reasons.