Return To Nambawan

Generally I make it a point to never review the same place twice; every time I return to a place it has folded, become an entirely different shop, or remains the same. Nambawan Restaurant and Café is the latter.

I don't know if I'll ever do something similar to this, but it wasn't too long ago that I wrote two pieces about the same establishment within two weeks. It helped that the other place had slightly different characters during different times of the day. ...I don't think the Three Little Pigs/Big Bad Wolf needs any more endorsements, do you?

Thing is, Nambawan did nothing to warrant a second write-up - maybe other than sticking around and still doing what they do. Which is the only thing my makan kaki and I wish for all restaurants. Can't ask any more than that.

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Nambawan — Part Deux

first published in The Malaysian Insider, 15 April 2013


That newspaper clipping is still there. I snapped a photo of it on impulse. Melody was tickled by that, as was the manageress of the place.

What memories.

The quality of Nambawan's roast pork belly is recession-proof

We have been to a number of eateries over the years, some of which folded within several years since our last visit. A couple of those had become second homes, which made their closure all the more depressing. Invariably, they were all moms-and-pops; franchises were only for convenience, not conviviality.

Over two years ago, Melody was introduced to Nambawan Restaurant by a fellow Ipohite and more well-travelled food crawler. The owner, it seems, just decided to set up shop at Sri Manja Square One. Nambawan's gruff, taciturn chef (‘kay, I was scared of him) had worked in New Zealand for a time.

In spite of the humble décor and bad copywriting ("Taste your sense to infinity"?), we were struck by the price-to-portion ratio—affordable, even by the neighborhood's standards. The portions aren't really that big, so one can sample up to two or three items. On top of that, the chef's pretty skilled.

Burger that's 50 per cent pork + 50
per cent bacon equals 100 per cent
satisfaction

Everything we tried: the amatriciana pasta, the signature stone-charbroiled pork belly, and the 100 per cent home-made pork burger, was good and made just right. They had a 100 per cent home-made beef burger for a while, starring a patty said to be made of hand-chopped tenderloin.

Suffice to say that Nambawan has a good week-day menu, but fans and first-timers alike will look forward to the weekend specials. These include favourites such as roast pork belly, maybe lamb shank, and two other items.

You never know what might turn up. On our "homecoming" to this place, they also served a Tex-Mex pulled pork dish and a "50% pork + 50% bacon burger."

"50+50 burger?" Melody gasped. She was a bigger sucker for bacon than I was, so that's what she ordered. "Hold the fries and add more coleslaw," she added.

I stuck with the familiar roast pork belly, which is really a Western-style strip of siew yoke. We thought we could slip in a carbonara if there was enough room.

My order hit the table first. I felt a bit deflated. Inflation seems to have crept up on this little corner of Taman Sri Manja. The pork belly looked a bit smaller than the last time I ate it, and there was one less half-a-potato.

One bite restored my hopes for his place. Oh, yes... that's how I remembered it. The roasted pork skin was dense, so I applied more pressure on the fork. Glistening, semi-transparent fat oozed out from various crannies as I cut another piece of belly.

The shiitake mushroom soup is so
good you'd want to lick the bowl...
but please don't

The lean parts had flavour, the fatty bits were silky and unctuous, and the partly caramelised skin was crispy and chewy in turns. I had little use for the sweet apple sauce meant to balance the richness of the meat, which I'd rather pair with the lovely light-brown sauce covering the spuds.

The second half of the main event began when Melody's 50% pork/50% bacon burger arrived. Instead of devouring it the conventional way, she deconstructed the dish with knife and fork, eating each component as she saw fit.

I leaned in as Melody sliced into the patty, which was large for a RM9.90 burger, and released the familiar smell of cured meat, fat and salt. I almost swooned. She "mmm"-ed in appreciation of the flavour and the genius behind it. "Why didn't anybody else think of this before?" she gushed.

In between bites of belly, Melody slipped me a few pieces of her bacon-enhanced patty. How to describe the fine balance of textures between fresh and cured meat, the mingling of the flavours and the smoky sharp tang of salt that gets people begging for more, despite the health hazards?

I gave up and just surrendered to the sensations.

"'You must try this'," Melody supplied as she mentally drafted a sales pitch for her Facebook update. Trust her to come up with the pithiest lines.

"So, got room for carbonara?" I later asked, after I wiped my mouth.

Melody pondered it briefly, and shook her head. I thought as much.

Madam Yap the manageress had different ideas, however.

"Would you like a little soup?" she asked. "Made with shiitake mushrooms. It tastes great. You'll love it."

We exchanged wary looks. Why not? Soup's more manageable than a carbonara.

"Just a bit," Melody pleaded, just in case.

What arrived was a normal portion of light brown not-very-runny and somewhat hearty shiitake mushroom soup. The chunks were finer and the broth was so ... yes, this is how you do Western-style shiitake mushroom soup.

When the soup was gone, I looked around to see if it was safe to lick the bowl. Across the table, Melody glared at me as I ran a finger all over the inside of the bowl and sucked up what it had collected.

You'd think the chef would be chuffed, Mel.

I know I was.

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Nambawan Restaurant and Café

10, Jalan PJS3/48
Sri Manja Square One
Taman Sri Manja
6½ Miles, Off Old Klang Road
46000 Petaling Jaya

Non-halal

Lunch: 12pm-3pm
Dinner: 6pm-10pm

Closed every other Monday

+6016-224 1533 (Yap)
+6013-263 2772 (Gilbert)

Facebook page

News: Modern Mythology, Self-Help, Yelp Help, And Amazon

Indian mythology is being 'updated' in contemporary Indian fiction - and making authors rich and famous. Is the evolution worth it?

Readers who grew up with the idea that Ravana was a through-and-through bad guy, for instance, will be surprised to learn that he was the son of a sage and was a devout worshipper of Shiva who knew that the bad things he did had some purpose in balancing the cosmic books (the way I see it).

Modern audiences have no patience for such complicated accounting, so the dynamics between protagonists and anatgonists were distilled into a more familiar black-and-white thing they can relate to. That'll move copies, I'm sure, but will this mean the ability to understand nuance and navigate different shades of grey will eventually be sacrificed?

I have issues with the behaviour of some sages, the so-called brahmins - particularly their sense of entitlement and demand for respect. That sage mentioned in the Ramayana who cursed Shakuntala when she did not greet him because she was daydreaming about her beloved? You'd think he'd understand. Cursing people out of anger is not what people expect of learned, enlightened beings.

If there's a story where sages get punished for such behaviour, I'd read that.

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A restaurant critic lists 11 reasons why Yelp reviews suck, plus 11 fixes for that.

Some reasons include making "unfair judgments or poor decisions based on ignorance of the restaurant’s cuisine, level of formality, intentions, or audience" (thinking of you here, Brad Newman), "no understanding of how restaurants work", "a lack of human empathy", "an undue sense of entitlement" (hello again, Brad Newman) and "unreasonable expectations on whether the restaurant can accommodate special dietary preferences."

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Self-help by women for women: Why do they seek advice for everything under the sun from strangers? What's wrong with that?

Nothing, if you're seeking practical instruction on practical problems: how to fix your bike, prepare your taxes, or roast a leg of lamb. Practical problems can be quantified. Personal or existential challenges are idiosyncratic and resistant to formulaic fixes; they require retail, made to measure therapy. One size doesn't fit all.

Which is probably why we'll continue to see more of the same in bookstores for the foreseeable future.

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Russell Brand remembers Margaret Thatcher. Not how I'd imagine Russell Brand remembering Margaret Thatcher. One choice bit:

Barack Obama interestingly said in his statement that she had "broken the glass ceiling for other women." Only in the sense that all the women beneath her were blinded by falling shards.

And another:

The blunt, pathetic reality is that a little old lady has died, who in the winter of her life had to water roses alone under police supervision. If you behave like there's no such thing as society, in the end there isn't. Her death must be sad for the handful of people she was nice to and the rich people who got richer under her stewardship. It isn't sad for anyone else.

Read the whole thing. G*d. Did he actually write all that?

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Shades of Amazon eats Goodreads? Academic publisher Elsevier buys social media research platform Mendeley. The app that allowed academics to share material was developed by several PhD students who wanted an easier way to manage research papers and collaborate with colleagues overseas.

Mendeley users cried foul over the move, because this means that Elsevier can dictate the terms of usage and access on what was said to be an open resource. A report in The Bookseller has details about the purchase and why this could be bad:

Many expressed sceptism over whether Mendeley will remain open since Elsevier gained a reputation for being against open access to research as it supported the failed anti-piracy legislation Stop Online Piracy Act.

And why did Amazon buy Goodreads? To get, it is said, into the heads of a small segment of "super readers", those who read a dozen or more books in a year. Not Malaysians in general, then. Forbes outlines the benefits Amazon can expect to reap from the purchase.

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Seems Thai publishers are spreading their wings, but may have problems with publishing requirements in other countries.

Some foreign publishers also have special needs, she said, mentioning a request from publishers in Muslim-majority Malaysia for illustrators to adjust certain drawings.

"So the illustrators had to remove pigs and references to pork from drawings in certain books plus any related text. They were also asked to depict character wearing only clothes which are in line with Islamic dress codes," [Chonrungsee Chalermchaikit, vice-president of the Publishers and Booksellers Association of Thailand (Pubat)] explained.

While certain sensibilities should be respected, that respect should be reciprocal. Telling foreign publishers that their culture may raise hackles in your own country is kind of, well, bad to say the least.

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In the Washington Post, an editor's dilemma when proofing copy:

Kind of humiliating: To copy edit review, just had to type "justin bieber shirtless london" into Google.....

Ron Charles ‏@RonCharles • 08 April 2013

I knowww. The things editors do when fact-checking.

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Amazon reverses refusal to handle Cornish text in children's book. Will Google flip on 'ogooglebar'?

While Cornish-speakers and language activists worldwide were happy with the U-turn, not everyone feels Amazon was totally wrong, wrong, wrong. Somebody pointed out that it was merely business. "For one thing, only 500 people cited Cornish as their primary language in the 2011 census. Is it so shocking Amazon wasn’t all that interested in publishing the Cornish title?"

News: Restaurant Criticism, Cultural Boycott, And Court Battle

The restaurant critic's "perverse secret agenda" is not about getting free food, it seems, but to map "uncharted territories for the benefit of the hungry." So, no point in blogging about a place that's been reviewed n+1 times, then.

Premised around Pete Wells's takedown of a Guy Fieri restaurant, the piece also includes a look at the person The Awl says was the first restaurant reviewer who, bien sûr, happens to be French.

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Iain Banks on why he's supporting a cultural boycott of Israel. Paragraph is split for easier reading:

The particular tragedy of Israel's treatment of the Palestinian people is that nobody seems to have learned anything. Israel itself was brought into being partly as a belated and guilty attempt by the world community to help compensate for its complicity in, or at least its inability to prevent, the catastrophic crime of the Holocaust.

Of all people, the Jewish people ought to know how it feels to be persecuted en masse, to be punished collectively and to be treated as less than human. For the Israeli state and the collective of often unlikely bedfellows who support it so unquestioningly throughout the world to pursue and support the inhumane treatment of the Palestinian people – forced so brutally off their land in 1948 and still under attack today – to be so blind to the idea that injustice is injustice, regardless not just on whom it is visited, but by whom as well, is one of the defining iniquities of our age, and powerfully implies a shamingly low upper limit on the extent of our species' moral intelligence.

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This came in this afternoon, with several minor errors (which should be corrected already):

ZI Publications Sdn Bhd and its director Mohd Ezra Mohd Zaid have been given the nod by the Federal Court here today to challenge the constitutionality of a Selangor state religious enactment which restrict[s] freedom of expression.

Chief Justice Tun Arifin Zakaria[,] presiding a five-member panel[,] unanimously granted leave to the publishing company and Mohd Ezra who have filed a petition seeking the Federal Court to declare invalid Section 16 of the Syariah Criminal Enactment 1995.

..."It would be an interesting case to hear," said the Chief Justice...

Yes, it's about that book.

On a related note, someone sheds some light on censorship in Malaysia.


Other stuff:

• A call from 'God' and the travails of writing a New York Times book review. One important lesson: Don't junk your galley proofs until the review is published. To be safe, wait for a week after publication (my rule of thumb).
• Ten terms for various parts of a book, in case one needs to dissect a copy. I've been looking for #7 (head-piece/vignette) for ages.
• Andrew Zimmern and Tony Bourdain chat about fatherhood, creative freedom, etc - and Winnie the Pooh (warning: spoiler ahead for those who haven't read it).
• Among this selection of ten very expensive typos includes a US$80 million hyphen, an extra letter that costs US$1.4 milion, and a boo-boo that cost a Japanese security firm US$340 million (Itai!). Who says typos aren't important?
• Book promotion strategies that (allegedly) worked for these people. Best (and often-ignored) advice: "Writing a good book."
• Writers' letters may reveal certain things about them, but do you want to know?
• Seven myths and three truths about book editing might help improve the overall quality of books.
• How editors can be more 'conversational' on Twitter. But should editors be more social, given the nature of their work? And do editors want to be more social?
• Another 'next indie success story' fizzles out - or does it?
• Can't move from journalism to fiction and creative non-fiction? Here's some advice.

See You At The Movies - Maybe

For a while I've only heard of Roger Ebert (1942-2013); I'm no movie fan so I thought little of giving what he wrote a pass.

Then he comes up with a treatise on how to cook stuff in a rice pot, a teaser of which I'd stumbled upon while drifting aimlessly across the Web.

The eloquence. The use of words. The inner me hung its head in shame as he extemporised the many things that a rice pot and a few utensils can do for "you, student in your dorm room. You, solitary writer, artist, musician, potter, plumber, builder, hermit. You, parents with kids. You, night watchman. You, obsessed computer programmer or weary web-worker." He could've added, "You, lazy-ass wannabe journo/reviewer."

The power of that inspiring, mouth-watering piece on the rice pot is amplified when I heard that he'd written it after he lost his lower jaw and couldn't eat any more. It was the closest I had come to tearing up over a stranger's plight (though it didn't seem so) and he kicks the knife in by sucking it up, cancer and all, and continue to do his work.

"Yes, sir," Inner-Me mumbled, scuffing its heels on the ground. "Yes ... yes ... Yes, sir. Yes, I understand, sir. 'Get off my lazy ass and grab a rice cooker'? Right away, sir."

I've never read anything substantial from him since. Nor did I grab that pot, despite the temptation. For the nth time, I've seen someone else do something I want to and can do but can't because of age, experience, cred, platform, lack of a Pulitzer, etc.

For the nth minus 1 time, I wished I'd begun writing in earnest when I was, say, 20 instead of 32; I could have 'made it' by now - or next year the latest.

I could vent and rave like nobody's business and people would take me seriously. They'd send me places, and I'd write it up so that people would go there in droves, lemming-like, even if they had to sell their kidneys for airfare.

But this is Malaysia, where you won't be noticed unless you write about politics. And one year in real journalism revealed my lack of a stomach for the kind of things a journo has to do to feed himself. Also, why-lah are the powers that be sooo sensitive?

So I cut my teeth reviewing books and eating places, and the occasional movie or music album. No way I can offend anyone when writing things that won't be read.

...Right, I did offend some people. Not discussing that here, though.

At some point, I buried my dreams of a Pulitzer and the like, and just write and write and write. But not enough, I feel. I've so many things left unsaid. Never mind writing - I'd just stop living if I'd ended up like Ebert in his final years. On top of it all, I'll never be 'good' or 'qualified' enough to criticise or call out certain things.

One glimmer of hope came in John Scalzi's obit of Ebert where he pointed out (emphasis mine):

...as passionate as he was about film, he wasn’t precious about it. Ebert loved film, but what I think he loved most of all was the fact that it entertained him so. He loved being entertained, and he loved telling people, in language which was direct and to the point (he worked for the Sun-Times, the blue collar paper in town) what about the films was so entertaining. What he taught me about film criticism is that film criticism isn’t about showing off what you know about film, it was about sharing what made you love film.

I don't know if I'll ever see you at the movies, Mr Ebert (I'm Asian, we don't do the first-name thingy with our elders), but "sharing what made you love [whatever]"? That I can do. And I'll continue to do it until I 'get there', where I can, among other things, slice and dice like a conscientious, knowledgeable pro.

Though I wasn't with you on your journey, I'd love to see you off. Hope you don't mind.

And thank you, sir, for everything.

Masterclass In Session: Modelling With Amber

A series of Masterclass books was planned for release by MPH Publishing. Essentially, how-to guides from homegrown experts in their respective fields. For the first book in the series, we have this.

Among the first responses were, "Love the hair." But of course.

In this country, her name is synonymous with the term "supermodel".

"I did not know a thing about modelling when I started out as a teenager. I wish there was a school or a guidebook that I could have referred to back then," says Amber Chia. "I managed to set up a modelling academy a few years back and now, I'm so happy that I can also produce a guidebook to help aspiring models."

And here's the guidebook: Amber Chia's Guide to a Successful Modelling Career, the first book in the new MPH Masterclass Series.

Full of advice for young women keen on pursuing a modelling career in Malaysia and beyond, this guide covers such topics as self-assessment, modelling platforms, building one's professional attitude and personal branding, avoiding scams, other employment opportunities, and much more.

Amber also shares her own journey, from her childhood in Tawau, Sabah when she daydreamed about a modelling career to winning the Guess international ambassadorship, an event that put her on the path to where she is today. Helping readers follow that journey are a selection of photographs from her photoshoots, events and ads.

It is mainly aimed at helping aspiring models get a leg up when embarking on their career on the catwalk, and beyond - the kind that the author wished she'd had when she was starting out.

Much of the tips and advice she gives: what (and what not) to wear, how to build a portfolio, how to socialise and get your name out, steer clear of dodgy agencies and gigs, be nice to everyone (because, as Tyra Banks once said, "We don't like mean girls"), and so on are all common sense.

Too bad common sense seems unrecognisable these days unless it's pointed out to you, featured on 'inspirational' posters, and posted on Facebook - or compiled into guides like this one.

We hope the masses will be thrilled with this new arrival at all major bookstores - including ours - after its launch on Wednesday, 03 April 2013.

Print versions are going for RM35.90 a copy, while e-book versions will soon be available from MPH Digital.

If one is still not sure how to go about being a catwalk superstar after finishing the book, there's always the Amber Chia Academy.

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Amber Chia's Guide to a Successful Modelling Career

Amber Chia
MPH Group Publishing
146 pages
Non-fiction
ISBN: 978-967-415-107-2

Buy from MPHOnline.com

News: Meet The Gardener, And Goodreads Gets Amazoned

Aren't we all still chuffed over Tan Twan Eng's Man Asia win? Meet the man himself at Kinokuniya, KLCC on Saturday, 06 April at 7:30pm where he'll be signing copies of his winner, The Garden of Evening Mists.

Take your pick from several publishers, 'cause you can't have too many

I suppose if you already have a copy lying around you can get that signed, too.

What else?

• ZOMG the jungle of a company known as Amazon has swallowed Goodreads. Cyberspace echoed with the dismay of legions, some of whom have announced their intent to sign off Goodreads for good. Others say nothing will change, while a few were like, "Oh, and this is surprising how?"
  
  There's talk that this so-called independent book readers' social network will end up sending everyone to Amazon to buy recommended reads because, well, GR people are real readers and less likely to indulge in sockpuppetry and all that. You think?
• "Most contemporary literary fiction is terrible." Too bad the author doesn't elaborate any further than 'because too many people are doing it, and doing it wrong'.
• William Shakespeare, one-percenter? Okay, that was a bad attempt at rhyming - and not to say that all one-percenters are tax dodgers, which was what was allegedly uncovered about ol' Bill. It's also said he'd hoarded grain for the lean times but made a profit by selling some at jacked-up prices.
• Whoops: Unattributed, borrowed passages found in Jane Goodall's Seeds of Hope, some of which were from Wikipedia. It's like Michel Houellebecq and The Map and the Territory all over again.
• Amish fiction? Hmm. Amish romance? SNRK. I mean, come on. "Bonnet-rippers"? I suppose the sight of tumbling locks freed from some flimsy headgear has a certain kind of appeal for some....
• When writers flog themselves, what do they sound like?
  
  

  Anne Enright berates herself for punctuation tics ("I am tormented by my need for commas"). Richard Ford is unable to "describe how people look". Tessa Hadley admits to repeating images. Neil Jordan says he has written "a thousand beginnings" but few become finished projects. Ruth Padel convicts herself of "too-muchness", writing too much and overdoing imagery.

  
  There. Don't they sound more like you and me already?

Wise Guys

Easter, Sunday, 2013: This review struggled to find a home for a while, mainly because of the novel's premise. It ended up in TMI, on Good Friday, no less. I'd only realised this belatedly. Was this why it briefly ended up as an editor's pick?

Anyway, Happy Easter, Malaysia.

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Wise guys

What if the "three kings" were "three thugs"? For one, there'd be more action

first published in The Malaysian Insider, 29 March 2013


Seth Grahame-Smith's darker retelling of the Nativity took me by surprise. I actually liked it – though I knew from just the title and synopsis that I would.

The story of the three magi should be a familiar one. As the ages roll by, however, many chapters in history tend to become apocryphal – outa punya cerita.

Did these three kings really exist, and are they enshrined in the Cologne Cathedral in Germany? Or is there something else behind the tale?

Grahame-Smith shakes things up a little by suggesting that the Biblical Magi are not really nobles or holy men at all, but a trio of criminals on the run who just so happened to be at the right place at the right time.

This is the premise of Unholy Night, his latest work after Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter.

The protagonist and appointed leader of the fabled "magi" is Balthazar, a thief and murderer who's also known as the Antioch Ghost.

Attempting to escape the law, he's captured and imprisoned in the dungeons of King Herod in Jerusalem, along with two other thieves, Gaspar and Melchyor.

Being the most experienced and resourceful of the three, Balthazar successfully springs them all from jail.

Their escape enrages Herod but the sickly king's attention is diverted by one of his advisors towards a window.

Outside, the Star of Bethlehem is shining brightly, announcing the birth of the prophesied Saviour – and the beginning of the slaughter of the firstborns.

While escaping from Jerusalem, the three thieves witness the killings and are stunned into silence. Horror gives way to righteous fury. The result: some dead Judean soldiers and a wounded Balthazar.

Learning of the encounter, Herod sends a letter to the Roman emperor, who dispatches a real magician to deal with the holy child and his bodyguards, along with a young Pontius Pilate, who would preside over a famous trial years later.

Though it feels more true-to-life, Grahame-Smith retains some supernatural elements.

A wounded and unconscious Balthazar sees visions of a "Man with Wings" (Gabriel the Messenger?) and a wise old man who tells him to escort Joseph and Mary and their child to Egypt.

A swarm of locusts comes to their rescue at one point. When the magician shows that he's the real thing, Herod sees possibilities, including a cure for his disease and freedom from his position as a Roman satrap.

Also, other serendipitous events related to Balthazar's own troubled past explains why he uncharacteristically decided to protect the holy child.

His revenge sub-plot, which involves an old flame, brings out a sympathetic side to his generally unsavoury character that compels you to root for him.

"Stick it to him there! It'll hurt more!"

I found almost nothing to complain about. The pages practically turn themselves, and the cinematic feel of the novel screams, "Make a film out of me!" Grahame-Smith is – surprise, surprise – also a screenwriter and film and TV producer.

Some may find the portrayal of Mary in this novel a trifle unsettling, though. Balthazar initially scoffed at the immaculate conception thing and suggests a more earthly reason for Mary's pregnancy and gets an earful from the young and unexpectedly assertive, feisty new mom.

We know what happens to Joseph, Mary and their child.

We know what happens to Herod and Pilate. But it's what happens to the three "magi" at the end of Grahame-Smith's Unholy Night that makes it a satisfying read.

Those Christmas carols and Nativity scenes will never sound or feel the same.


This review was based on a complimentary advance reading copy.

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Unholy Night

Seth Grahame-Smith
Grand Central Publishing (April 2012)
307 pages
Fiction
ISBN: 978-1-4555-1617-9

Unarchived: Malaysia, Truly Aiya!

another version of this piece was published in issue #50 of Off The Edge, February 2009


Around 2005 or 2006, Brian Gomez quit his job to travel and write Devil's Place, a fast-paced, violent, politically incorrect and expletive-laden novel - criteria that will make the Home Ministry's reading list if it wasn't labelled as fiction.

The lives of several main characters take a turn for the worse when a shady deal goes bad. What follows is a series of car chases, fights, homicides and the collision of paths between the protagonists, among whom are a struggling musician, a taxi driver with bizarre conspiracy theories, a pimp with poor English, a terrorist, a crooked cop, and an American CIA agent.

Despite the main cast's international make-up, Devil's Place is very Malaysian, right down to the jalan cerita that's like the North-South Highway during festive seasons. Observant readers will spot facets of our society and culture as the pages turn, many of which are unsavoury. It's not 'Malaysia, Truly Asia', but it's damn funny.

Brian was kind enough to answer some questions regarding his debut novel for Off The Edge, back in 2009:


ADOI magazine said you were previously Creative Director for Friends Advertising. What made you quit your job and go off to travel and write?
While working on concepts and ideas for the many ad campaigns I'd done over the years, inevitably some random idea would pop into my head and I'd think This would be a good premise for a book or this would make a good movie or maybe I'd stumble upon a phrase that I thought would sound good in song. And eventually I had to quit my job just to see if something could come out of these ideas. I wasn't 100% sure I was going to write a novel at the time. But in the end the premise and promise of Devil's Place interested me the most.

May I assume that your blog (thefloatingturd.blogspot.com) reflects your political leanings? But surely you didn't write the book to air those views?
Not everything I blog about reflects my views. My blog posts are written in pretty much the manner the novel was written, that is to say I start out with a premise and then see where the next paragraph takes me. Sometimes it takes me to places that have nothing to do with what I believe in. But more often than not, I think, they end up more or less a reflection of my values. If by reading my blog, you surmise that politically I'm more left than right, you'd probably be correct.

The book was not written to air any views. Before I sat down to write it, I thought that maybe it would to a certain extent. But after the first couple of chapters I realized that you have to allow the characters to determine the story. Everytime I tried to plot things my way, I found that the story ended up being too contrived – too forced. But in the end it was a lot more fun discovering the story as I wrote it as opposed to already knowing the ending and writing just to service the plot.

It was amazing to recognise all those little Malaysian idiosyncrasies in the novel, but it doesn't exactly paint a pretty picture. What are your feelings about the 'Malaysia' in Devil's Place? How close is it to the one we are living in?
I think the Malaysia in Devil's Place is probably slightly less absurd than the real Malaysia. In any other country, Devil's Place would be considered satire but after everything that's happened in the country the last couple of years – The Lingam Case, Altantuya, ISA Protection etc – I fear a story about terrorists, a prostitute, politicians, corrupt cops and stuff might actually bore people. But I love this country. I really do. What writer wouldn't? It's the gift that keeps on giving, isn't it? I think I actually love the things I hate more than I love the things I love.

Any word from the Home Ministry regarding your book?
The good thing about book-publishing in this country is that you don't have to be licensed by the Home Ministry. But magazine publishers do, don't they? There could be a Home Ministry official reading this at this very moment, couldn't there? To any Home Ministry officials who may be reading this right now, I would just like to say that among all the ministries the Home Ministry is my favourite and that, in my opinion, it is perfectly acceptable to detain people without trial for the purposes of their own protection. The Home Ministry rocks! But not in a bad way like Avril Lavigne or anything. The Home Ministry rocks in a good, clean, Eastern-values-filled way! Like Mawi!

Are you really coming up with a sequel to Devil's Place? Mind telling us a little bit about it?
It's a sequel-but-not-quite. Some of the minor characters from Devil's Place will feature in the new book I think, but it will be a completely different story. So far, I've got the premise. I'm itching to start but haven't found the time. Hopefully, it'll be out by the end of the year.

You mentioned that you're currently working freelance. Are you getting by, and is there anything readers of Off The Edge can do to help (besides buying the book)?
I get by but the millions I expected from sales of the book have strangely not materialized. Off The Edge readers who wish to remedy this grave injustice can send me suitcases full of cash of which I promise to donate at least 10% to The Home Ministry.

---

Brian Gomez's Devil's Place was originally published by Idle Minds in 2008. Its re-launch as part of the Fixi Novo imprint is happening at Kinokuniya, KLCC on 30 March, from 8pm to 9pm. Not sure if there will be a sequel.

Happening on the same day and around the same time is MerdeKahKah Comedy + Improv at Brian's Place aka Merdekarya, 1st Floor, 352, Jalan 5/57, Petaling Garden, Section 5, Petaling Jaya. Attendance is free, but please leave something in the tip jar.

So, where will you be?

FESSing Up

A couple of weeks back, I checked myself into a hospital and had this done. One day after the procedure, I was discharged and advised to "take it easy" and maintain a low profile.

But it was difficult.

The first week was the toughest. New pillow too high, old pillow too low. Sleep was hard, and I had to get up now and again to cough out gobs of mostly blood-stained phlegm.

I shed nearly six kilos in the last two weeks. My stamina levels plummeted; walking distances I'd never break a sweat over had me gasping for breath and energy. My limbs atrophied somewhat.

So, no listicles for book- or publishing-related news until I'm back to normal.

Besides, all everyone cared about while I've been away was Tan Twan Eng winning the Man Asia Literary Prize for The Garden of Evening Mists. I believe this will be the last time that the Man Group will be sponsoring the Asian Literary Prize which will be known as ... the Asian Literary Prize until a new sponsor is found.

Other good news includes the ban on that SIS book being thrown out and the religious authorities' raid on Borders being ruled illegal, though an appeal will be filed for the latter, it seems.

Bad news: RIP Chinua Achebe.

Hattie's Heartbreak

first published in The Star, 24 March 2013


It is impossible to come away from Ayana Mathis's The Twelve Tribes Of Hattie without a pit in your stomach. That the trials and hardships of a black woman and her 11 children are still the lot of many within her demographic in 21st-century America deepens that pit.

Not too long after teenaged Hattie gets swept off her feet by her beau, August, sometime in the 1920s, the sweet life they imagined for each other is shattered time and again by harsh realities and August's failings as a father and husband. After Hattie's first children – a pair of twins – die, she becomes a cold, bitter woman, determined to toughen up her subsequent nine kids for a world that won't treat them kindly. Even so, her efforts would yield mostly bitter harvests.

Her children distance themselves from her as they grow up. Not knowing her love, Hattie's kids don't seem inclined to give any to their loved ones in turn. Floyd the musician, for instance, merely drifts from gig to gig without much of a plan in life. Alcoholic Franklin is almost a carbon copy of his father. Young Six tries to help others through faith but corruption rears its ugly head. Alice's constant need to keep her younger brother under her wing stems from insecurities born out of a dark time in their lives, even as the supposedly frail younger sibling finds the courage to be his own man.

The last couple of chapters, set in 1980 and possibly derived from Mathis's own life story, is about how Hattie struggles to protect her granddaughter (the "twelfth tribe") from a world that she still sees as harsh and unforgiving when the girl's possibly schizophrenic mother can't cope. And we end up resigned to Hattie's pain continuing until she breathes her last.

This not-very-big volume is mostly misery, disappointment and heartbreak. Snapshots of points in Hattie's and her children's lives contain just enough detail that, when put together, they seem to show how certain mindsets have clung tenaciously onto America's social fabric, right up to this day and age. That these mindsets appear to have been strengthened rather than weakened by a black man in the White House, seems to justify Hattie's bleak worldview.

The threads that link the lives of Hattie and her children together, however, seem non-existent or hard to trace, like the love – or rather, the general idea of the love – this woman is supposed to have for her kids. Were it not for Hattie, the chapters in this novel appear unrelated to one another.

That's no weakness, as readers can take a break whenever it gets them down. They'll have to at some point. The sun don't shine in these pages, no sir. The characters' pain is conveyed perhaps too well, prompting one to wonder: If Mathis penned something light-hearted, would it be even more enjoyable? Because make no mistake, this début novel is a good read despite the pain.

The only bright spot is that some of Hattie's children eventually recognise the wisdom behind her stoicism and try it out for themselves during hard times, though it's unclear if they know they're referring to their mama's playbook.

Don't be put off by the "Oprah Book Club 2.0" endorsement. The Twelve Tribes Of Hattie is worth exploring for the powerful language, the emotions it stirs, and how it makes us think of familial ties in the face of adversity.

---

The Twelve Tribes of Hattie

Ayana Mathis
Alfred A. Knopf (Hardback, 2012)
243 pages
Fiction
ISBN: 978-0-385-35028-0

Fritter Frenzy

My food piece submission for The Malaysian Insider before I checked myself into hospital for minor surgery; it was published three days after I went under the knife.

Reading this again afterwards, I began thinking how horrible it would be to not have memories like these, to have encounters like these and the opportunity to share them. To not be able to hear about quaint hidden corners like this stall and sample what they have to offer. We all live on borrowed time, of course, and it's absurd to think one can within his or her lifetime, unearth all the hidden gems this world has tucked away.

But one can try, while one is still able to. That's one life's goal there.

---

Fritter frenzy
All puffed up over treats from a neighbourhood snack hawker

first published in The Malaysian Insider, 14 March 2013


Several times I've heard Melody moan about her failed search for this banana fritter stall in Brickfields. Like it has the best in KL.

Mr Chiam at work

So when she finally got her hands on some crispy sweet goodness, she let me have it. Crunchy, sweet and not a whit of that hold-on-I'm-not-ripe-yet kind of tartness.

I have my favourite and only fritter stand, right outside the 99 Kopitiam in OUG, which sells what I say is the best cekodok in the Klang Valley. More banana than flour and they don't bounce like tennis balls when they hit the ground. They're damn oily, but nothing some paper towels can't solve.

Something was different about these Brickfields fritters, though.

"They're made with pisang raja," Melody enthused. "Not easy to get, and they don't have much in stock. They open around eleven, but all will be sold out by 3pm."

Pisang raja, hmm? As opposed to the made-with-pisang jelata stuff I've been eating? I was curious but remained non-committal when offered a chance to go there myself. C'mon, it's in Brickfields. One of the busiest parts of Brickfields, the area around the YMCA.

But wouldn't you know it, I had a vacant Saturday to fill. And Melody said they have damn good curry puffs.

Belatedly, I consulted Google. Turns out that this nondescript stall has a reputation. So famous, that they made their mobile number available for those who wanted to order in advance. Melody even called up to make sure they were open and that the banana fritters were still available.

Yes, nobles and common folk, this stall is Chiam's at Brickfields, an outfit run by a father-son team.

The man in charge looks like the younger Chiam; Chiam Sr was nowhere in sight. For a stall with so many mentions online, it didn't look like much. And not a whole lot of things to offer. It's worth remembering that these stalls are often specialists in what they do serve, and they've been doing it for years.

I gave the sesame-coated balls a pass - not my favourite. I snagged two of each: banana fritters, kuih bakul (nian gao) and the curry puffs.

Chiam's banana fritters, curry puffs and deep-fried kuih bakul (left);
lovely, delicious, glistening insides of a fresh curry puff

Okay, problem: Where to eat this?

"Go across to Old Town," Mr Chiam suggested.

Infuriatingly straitlaced ol' me was aghast. You don't do that!

"Don't worry," Chiam assured me. "The waiters are only working there; they're not going to bother you." In other words, nobody at that outlet is being paid to give a damn about the 'outside food' rule.

Eating takeaway fritters in a gussied-up kopitiam is kind of odd, but oddly appropriate - not encouraging this sort of thing, mind you. Even this outlet feels so... neighbourly. A bunch of schoolkids were having a meeting; at another table, one is doing his homework. I haven't been in such a setting in KL for a long time. Or perhaps I haven't been going out much.

Fritters are best chased down with a good kopitiam-style coffee, so we ordered one. Melody also wanted a wan tan mee, which she said was good. At this point I can't argue with her anymore. The weather was hot, and she's seldom wrong about food.

I waited until the coffee arrived before taking a bite. Nobody made a fuss, so my molars crunched down. The honeyed layer between the flesh and dough is sweet and fragrant, almost nectar-like and HOTHOTHOTOWIE WHERE'S THE ICED COFFEE?

Chiam's price list and contact info

I helped myself to more banana fritter after lunch. It's easier to appreciate the taste after it cools. The dough shell can be excessive, so chuck away a little if you feel like it.

The balance among yam, sweet potato and kuih bakul - in that case, can we call it "anniversary taffy"? - in the fried kuih bakul was just right. Can't complain.

And the curry puffs... the potatoes were moist, warm and finely diced compared to most curry-puff fillings, and the chunks glistened in shades of vermillion and ochre. What was strange was that Melody found it spicy, while I didn't. We both agreed that, yes, this is a Curry Puff™, the blueprint for all (economy-class) curry puffs to come.

When I opened up another one at home, out popped a shred of chicken. How long has it been since chicken appeared in a hawker-stall curry puff? And the thing was still moist, more than two hours after we reached home.

If only I stayed near this YMCA.

---

Mr Chiam's Pisang Goreng

Opposite YMCA, in front of Yit Sieang Coffee Shop
Jalan Tun Sambanthan 4
Brickfields, Kuala Lumpur

Daily, 12.30pm–6pm

+6012-617 2511

Bowled Over Again

The adventures of a portly Punjabi private eye continues

first published in The Malaysian Insider, 11 March 2013


After discovering and enjoying Tarquin Hall's first two Vish Puri mysteries about two years ago, I was "doing tension" waiting for the next instalment since reading about it online. It quietly slipped into bookstores in the middle of 2012.

I had thought that The Case of the Deadly Butter Chicken was a working title.

When the third Vish Puri mystery unfolds, the portly Punjabi private eye is in the bathroom weighing himself, and the signs aren't good. Things take a dark turn when Puri, eager to avoid a monumental scolding from dear wife Rumpi over his weakness for high-calorie munchies, resorts to (gasp!) rigging the bathroom scales and quaffing diet pills.

However, the real mystery begins when Faheem Khan, the father of Pakistani cricket star Kamran Khan, croaks after eating some tainted butter chicken during a dinner party. Puri suspects the incident may also be tied to a poisoned dog that interrupted an earlier cricket game.

So begins our hero's descent into the shadowy world of underground betting syndicates, cricket match-fixing and money laundering. Puri is also investigating the theft of somebody's record-breaking moustache, a case that's more for comic relief rather than advancing the main plot.

Also making a return are Puri's crack team of mostly undercover operatives: professional thief Tubelight, Nepali femme fatale Facecream, electronics wiz Flush, and his secretary Elizabeth Rani, as well as the somewhat lovable scoundrel Rinku, Puri's childhood friend.

And how can I not mention Puri's mom, who's also a bit of a sleuth herself? Mummy-ji, who was also at the dinner party, had a look at Kamran Khan and, you'd swear, it's like she'd seen a ghost.

On the pretext of helping a friend, she does some investigation of her own, revisiting the horrors she'd witnessed after the partitioning of India and Pakistan in 1947. Of course, mother and son would eventually find themselves co-operating in an effort to find Faheem Khan's killer.

Those who have enjoyed the first two books will be glad to know that the magic is preserved in this one. The writing is compelling, entertaining and crafted with the wry eye of a well-travelled expat.

With topics such as cricket betting syndicates and the aftermath of Partition, Hall's latest Vish Puri novel is darker than the first two. Puri's assistant Tubelight braves the paltry, stomach-turning living conditions in the slums in his search for the poisoned dog's remains. Our hero's life is threatened several times. A tragedy in Puri's family comes to light.

Another topic that is touched upon briefly is the alleged trade of blood diamonds in Surat, considered the world's diamond capital. We only get the barest of hints that the mastermind may be laundering money by buying diamonds, and that's it.

There are plenty of funny bits in the narrative as well as the dialogue. For one, the Punjabi PI is bewildered by the IT jargon used by one of his suspects. "What the hell was 'dynamic content'?" our protagonist wonders. "And how could a computer eat cookies?"

An entertaining lesson on Mumbaiya pigdin/Indian English slang can be found in an informant's exchange with Puri. A dead murder suspect, "Fawda Bhaiyya was game bajaana suumdi style", so he couldn't have hanged himself.

Besides, the deceased "was dedu foot so couldn't reach the punkah. Plus, he was totally fultoo and doing balle balle with his biscuit."

Have fun Googling that. But I'm sure you'd rather read the book.

The realism of Puri's world buoys seemingly outa elements such as Flush's remotely operated robot with a camera, leaving readers free from having to suspend disbelief and follow the hijinks of the intrepid Indian investigator, his gang and his mom.

The only major gripe I had was that my paperback edition does not include the "three mouthwatering recipes from the Vish Puri family kitchen" as promised by some retailers.

Spicy, scrumptious, and at times side-splitting and surreal, The Case of The Deadly Butter Chicken is an excellent continuation of the Vish Puri series.

(Coincidentally, there's a real Indian cricketer called Kamran Khan out there. For maximum reading pleasure, please unplug yourself from the Web and remember that it's fiction.)


This version includes a correction. Also, here's my review of the first two books.

---

The Case of the Deadly Butter Chicken

Tarquin Hall
Hutchinson (2012)
360 pages
Fiction
ISBN: 978-0-09-193741-6

News: Michelin Snark, And Slaying The Hydra

Twitter is, it seems, a huge pool of negativity. And not a good indicator of public opinion. Evidence of the former may be found in this list of choice "passive aggressive" tweets from Michelin reviewers, which also suggests that 'pros' are no better than Yelpers.

---

A day in the life of a senior (digital) editor at The Atlantic. Also, here's a day in the life of a freelancer who was asked to repurpose his article for The Atlantic - for nothing.

Felix Salmon delves into the issue in a Reuters blog. There's more at Gawker, which is - I think - saying that writers who have to support themselves and their dependents cannot afford to write for media outlets without pay. Ron Hogan threw in his two cents as well.

---

Presenting, the top ten worst sex scenes in modern literature. Hey, didn't all these win the Bad Sex Award at some point?

This question comes up from time to time: Why is literary sex generally so bad? Someone tries to get to the bottom of the rarity of good literary sex. Perhaps the writers are too ... embarrassed to be sexy and, therefore, crack under the pressure to perform?

---

John Scalzi, among others, rails at a "HORRIBLE AWFUL TERRIBLE APPALLING DISGUSTING" publishing contract "WHICH IS BAD". The contract, offered by Random House's digital-only imprint Hydra, had terms which some would consider exploitative.

Random House has issued an open letter to critics of the contract, "strongly" disagreeing with their points of view. The Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America (SFWA) wrote back to say they're maintaining their stance and that "there is very little to discuss."

Victoria Strauss over at Writer Beware is not a fan of the contract's terms, but her comments on the issue are also worth reading. How this will play out remains to be seen.

---

What else cropped up? Let's see:

• An attempt to read and blog about Publisher's Weekly's bestseller-list-topping books for the past 100 years.
• Even if blogging doesn't sell books, give it a go anyway.
• Amish Tripathi, re-teller of the Hindu god Shiva's tale in the Shiva trilogy, gets a seven-figure advance for his next book(s). Is he the subcontinent's Dan Brown?
• There are more guy reviewers than gals in some major lit journals. Looking at, say, The Star, one would think Malaysian men don't read.
• When Tash Aw read at Silverfish and optimism for Malaysian writing.
• "I was bitter. I wanted to sell my own book. And I still want some literary immortality of my own." 'Failed' novelist apologises for trashing novels of Keith Gessen and Nathaniel Rich in his search for that "literary immortality".
• Comedian Russell Brand's powerful, unfunny outpourings about addiction. Riveting stuff. Can't believe he wrote it.
• Hilary Mantel speaks out on the media storm over her "royal bodies" lecture, which has only propelled her name further up the charts. Meanwhile, Mantel adds the £40,000 "British Nobel", the David Cohen award, to her increasingly crowded mantelpiece.
• Mike Godwin on his Law - yes, that one - and other stuff.
• "Who needs Anne Frank?" What the famous diary (and, by extension, the Holocaust) means for boomers, Gen-X and millennials.
• Seven grammar rules that aren't worth losing sleep over.
• Sebastian Faulks to (try channelling PG Wodehouse and) pen a new Jeeves novel. All the best, Faulks.
• A dispatch from a Congo literary festival.

Herbs Do Weird Things To People

This piece is a little different from the kinds I usually write, and it's not (just) because of the herbs.

Since writing this I've learned that: a) Not everyone gets a clove of awesome fried garlic, which could be another reason why the fries are awesome (garlic-and-herb infused oil?); b) myBurgerLab is planning collaborations with local startups Forty Licks and Smooshie Juice, so McDonald's is in trouble; c) the crispy savoury thing in the A++ is a wafer made of grilled parmesan cheese; and d) did TMI modify their file structure again?

Anyway, I should start cutting down my trips there; I work nearby and it's a 15- to 25-minute drive from there plus heavy traffic. It has reached a point where the staff recognise me on sight.

---

Burger trippin'

Flavours from of this 'lab' are so good, they're almost illegal

first published in The Malaysian Insider, 09 March 2013


For weeks, Melody has heard her friends wax lyrical about this burger joint. Feeling a sort of burger fatigue, we put off investigating this place until one rainy weekend. It always seems to rain each time we embark on burger hunts.

Gateway to meaty, charcoal-bunned
awesomeness; photo ©Alexandra Wong

Our first attempt to find myBurgerLab was not successful. And we thought Salak South was a Bermuda Triangle for traffic. But we eventually found it, the McDonald's for hipsters and purveyors of Instagrammable burgers.

Inside, there was barely any room to stand. Décor was threadbare, not unlike similar hipster joints popping up all over the Klang Valley. Slogans, notices, signs and wall decorations were sprinkled with wit. That wall painting of a giant burger? Strain your eyes and you'll see a hidden message.

Ordering could be a problem. So many varieties on the chalkboard menu - what to choose? And the ingredients - ever had maple syrup and hash browns in a burger?

In the end, you just close your eyes and point. They're all just as pricey.

Melody explored her masochistic side with a "Kick in the Face" while I went with the simpler-sounding "A++" - with eyes wide open.

Behind the counter is a hot, steaming burger assembly line. Plum-sized balls of bright pink minced meat are laid out on a ledge near the griddle before they're transported onto hot metal, cooked and pressed into patties.

Various burger components are made separately before they're stacked between the trademark charcoal buns and bussed to the tables or packed for take-away.

On a good day (for the restaurant, not you) an eternity and a half can pass before your order number appears on the LCD display above the counter. The six to eight people in the kitchen can barely keep up.

"Kick in the Face", about to kick someone's face in;
photo ©Alexandra Wong

Melody's "Kick in the Face", a "mustard-grilled patty" with jalapenos and horseradish sauce, looked rather subdued but the flavours were whoa. The horseradish sauce made all the difference, adding a slightly nutty layer of flavour.

I couldn't tell whether the crispy savoury thing in my A++ meat-and-mushroom thing was beef bacon or something else. Both were delicious.

What I was not prepared for was the fries.

- OMG FRIES WITH HERBS ROSEMARY FRAGRANT MAYBE THYME AND OREGANO CRISPY OUTSIDE CREAMY RICH INSIDE SALTY FINGERLICKING GOOD -

The herbs were a nice touch. It's one of those things you never think of but makes sense once you've experienced it. Who knew a dash of mixed dried Italian herbs could turn mundane into magnificent?

Oh, here's some red dipping sauce.

- OHDEARME IS THIS SPICY PEPPER MAYO OMNOMNOMNOM LIKE PRINGLES ONLY MOIST FRESH HOT AND IN 3D CANNOT STOP MOREMOREMORE -

These are some wicked fries. And it comes with a wrinkled clove of garlic that's fried, salted and herbed like the potatoes - and also tasted good. I can only imagine that it goes well with beer, because I don't drink.

On a Tuesday one week later, I returned to myBurgerLab to round up the exploration with a Beautiful Mess 4.0, a tower of a burger with a breaded and fried portobello mushroom nearly as big as the patty and a sunny-side-up on top, which was said to have been refined four times. I had to wait about half an hour because they made a beautiful mess of my order.

myBurgerLab's A++ Burger, the awesome fries and magic
red sauce; photo ©Alexandra Wong

I got the impression that myBurgerLab is perpetually packed. No surprise, since they only open for dinner, taking half the day to prepare the raw ingredients and kitchen. Customers fill their cups from a dispenser at the back while their burgers cook.

"We consider today a slow day," said the lady at the counter. I believed her.

When my order eventually arrived, I pondered. Eat or run?

Then I spied the shelves for standing customers inside and outside the joint. That made things easier. I stepped outside, away from the crowd, and opened my take-away package.

There is no way to eat a Beautiful Mess v4.0 without making a beautiful mess of it. But what joy to smoosh your burger to make it fit.

At some point you can't tell where the meat ends and where the juice-soaked buns or egg bits begin. You'll know where to find the mushroom, though. If you're eating it fresh, it's the scalding hot bit somewhere near the top- darn, ate a bit of wax paper.

- SHADDUP ABITOFWAXPAPER WON'T KILL YOU EATAFRY DIP IT IN THE MAGIC RED SAUCE OHHELPME CAN'TSTOP OMG WHYSOGOOD -

I'm still trying to wrap my head around the simple yet mind-blowing genius in the herbed fries.

- MUSTBETHEHERBS PUNGENT PULCHRITUDINOUS HERBS YOU KNOW WHAT THEY SAY ABOUT HERRRBS RIGHT HEEHEEHEE -

How ironic it would be if myBurgerLab ended up being more famous for its fries.

- WHOCARES FRIES ARE AWESOME DIVINE SKINS ON MORE FLAVOUR OHYES WHAT FRIES ALMOST GONE NONONO WHYYY -

With the last of the burger gone, I tipped the wrapper and down went a mix of melted cheese, meat juice, sauces, yolk and grease.

I can see why Melody's friends were wild about this place. They're cooking up some interesting combinations in this burger lab of sorts. You can't let go of the tastes. All they need is to stock some artisanal ice cream from The Last Polka and McDonald's will be in trouble.

Lumping a burger into a set - with a drink and fries - can take the bill past RM20, but it's worth it.

Just go easy on the fries. Oil, salt, glycaemic index and all that.

- AND HERBS LOVELY HERBS HEEHEEHEE COMEBACKTOMORROW OMG ♪ I'D LIKE TO MAKE MYSELF BELIEEEEEEVE ♫ -

---

myBurgerLab (SEA Park)

No 14, Jalan 21/22,
Seapark, Petaling Jaya,
Selangor

Pork-free

Tuesdays to Sundays, 5pm-10:30pm

Closed on Mondays

Facebook page

Adiós, Hugo

So, Hugo Chávez's (aka Mr Freeze's) long goodbye has come to an end. Seems the whole world is mourning his passing; half because it means one less gadfly poking at Uncle Sam's eye, while the other half bemoans the loss of a target for snarking, object of loathing, and less-colourful headlines.

Those who 'like' him because he's a 'socialist' and hates the US, Britain, et al are missing the point. Because some people are paying a heavy toll so that he can call Bush Jr 'a devil' in a UN General Assembly, among other nutty stuff. I found him too weird for admiration, like that Turkmenbashi fellow. He's also too easy to hate, and I have better things to do.

Don't worry, because the caretaker of Hugo I's kingdom is striving to fill his late liege's shoes. And his credentials are notable, which includes former bus driver, Sai Baba follower and conspiracy theorist (emphasis mine):

...Hours before Chavez's death, Maduro accused "imperialist" enemies of infecting Chavez with cancer - the kind of headline-grabbing allegations against powerful foes that Chavez often used to whip up supporters during his 14 years of tumultuous rule.

He'll do just fine. And with friends like this, he'll do even better.

But a national security lawyer from one such "imperialist" country denies that bit because, well, "logic" (emphasis mine - do I have to do this? It's tiring):

"It's just not effective ... While some cancers can be intentionally induced, they take years to kill you. If an intelligence agency wants you dead, it wants you dead now so that you'll stop doing whatever it is that you're doing that makes them need to kill you."

That's the idea, I think. But now it seems the cancer he had didn't swing the scythe - and was only one of several ailments plaguing him till the end.

RIP Hugo Chávez, Venezuela's President for Ever.

08/03/2013: And Venezuela apparently agrees with me. If they follow through with this, will they build a pyramid for him next?

News: Everything's A Critic, Etc

Jon Methven's novel This Is Your Captain Speaking was 'reviewed' on Amazon by one of its characters, a "Passenger 12B": "Far be it for me to point out that I almost died on that plane. There I was, pinned to the fuselage's ceiling, wondering if I would ever see my kids again. Then we all discovered it was a ruse, and there was much rejoicing. Then we discovered Mr. Methven, who dreamed up our hellish descent and was writing a crap novel about it."

Everybody and everything, it seems can now be a critic. Will some of Nigella or Jamie's dishes start telling their authors what they really think of all that double cream or those "knobs o' butter"? Or will Hanuman in various adaptations of the Ramayana comment on their spoken 21st century lines? "Verily, honoured scribe, I do not speaketh so."

The mind boggles at the possibilities.


Elsewhere:

• Nook suffers an over 20 per cent drop in business, not long after Barnes & Noble's founder, chairman and largest stockholder, Leonard Riggio, announced his intent to buy the company's retail business, but not the digital end of B&N.
• Do you really own the e-books you download or 'buy'?
• 'Trusted friends', word of mouth and book clubs ranked top three book discovery tools. Goodreads appears to be growing as a go-to for book recommendation. Amazon reviews? Not so much.
• Homer's Iliad was written around the eighth century BC, according to geneticists.
• Jonah Lehrer's other book, How We Decide, is being yanked from the shelves by publisher Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, who also plans to refund customers who bought copies. Apparently, they found a boo-boo in that book.
• Your new Oxford English Dictionary entry of the week: "friend zone".
• Is it not chilling that some people don't know what 1M'sia book vouchers are for? Apart from, say, something to sell for money?
• The complete works of Shakespeare, now in Punjabi.
• Buying your way into the best-sellers' list? Probably not a good idea.
• International Herald Tribune to be renamed International New York Times. And how is the Times NOT international already?

Keep Calm And Read

I had something else to post, but something came up.

We're being invaded, of course, but that doesn't mean work on blogs, books and manuscripts have to stop.

On an unrelated note, a rescue mission of sorts took place on Friday at the distributors' side. One phone call and the editors in publishing and one or two colleagues were there in a flash.

My batch of rescued books. Will they all be read - preferably this year?

On staid Fridays, these rare phone calls from Distribution are a treat. We were like kids in a candy store.

Most are at least a year old and destined for pulping. Some could not be saved, including some Twilight-related publications (no huge loss there). But it's got me thinking.

Unfortunately, I didn't ask Distribution about any alternative recourse for to-be-pulped books. My understanding is that unsold items are written off and, when the time comes, are shipped off to their doom. Other than the annual warehouse sales, I don't know of any other ways (that don't involve money) to properly dispose of these books.

Now... how do I make time for these?

News: Mantel, Libraries And "Culinary Jingoism"

Okay, lots of things happened last week.

For one, Hilary Mantel brought up some royal bodies and got roasted by the UK media and some. Though some were offended by what she said about Kate Middleton, others have rallied around her and accused critics of quoting the offending passages out of context. Also, she's not the first stormraising essayist on the London Review of Books.

So far, however, Mantel has appeared fireproof. The media storm over her remarks has instead swept Mantel up Amazon's charts. The author who wrote of goings-on in the court of Henry VIII will still receive the Bodley Medal at the Oxford Literary Festival.

---

Sci-fi writer and Internet phenomenon John Scalzi responds to the Horrible Historian's comments on libraries with his own personal history with libraries. Worth reading, because it reminds some of us about our own library experiences. Broke up the following excerpt because it was too long:

"I don’t use my local library like I used libraries when I was younger," he writes. "But I want my local library, in no small part because I recognize that I am fortunate not to need my local library — but others do, and my connection with humanity extends beyond the front door of my house.

"My life was indisputably improved because those before me decided to put those libraries there. It would be stupid and selfish and shortsighted of me to declare, after having wrung all I could from them, that they serve no further purpose, or that the times have changed so much that they are obsolete."

Take that.

While we're on the subject, someone asks if libraries are the next start-up incubators.


Elsewhere:

• Someone out there is hankering for the return of the illustrated book, because certain things being written these days are just begging "to be realized in ink."
• The Canadian French language police have 'allowed' restaurants to use Italian words such as "pasta" on menus. This issue reportedly arose when some restaurants were pursued by the Quebec Board of the French Language over the use of too many foreign words. An Italian restaurant in Montreal, for instance, got cited "for excessive use of Italian on its menu."
• Food writer Jason Sheehan finds out why some people take their food too seriously. He'd said something uncomplimentary about chicken rice in Singapore and some angry kiasu-types warned him "to never walk alone in that restaurant’s neighborhood again."
• An author pens an open letter to the shoplifter who stole a copy of his books.
• Women writers (often) get asked the darnedest questions during interviews. Of course, this piece wouldn't be complete without Hilary Mantel.
• The Librotraficante saga continues: the movement sets up an underground library.
• Ever wondered what some music albums would look like as book covers?
• Is the Internet reviving the short story? Not really.
• Crime writer Patricia Cornwell wins damages in a financial mismanagement case, which she blames entirely on the firm that managed her money. But it seems her alleged "taste for Ferraris, helicopters and a temporary apartment in New York City she rented for $40,000 per month", among other things, did not weigh much against her.
• Ben Yagoda on how to not write bad. One tip: "...the best writing has some of the qualities of conversation; and, in fact, my favorite short piece of writing advice is 'read it aloud.' When my students write—either in a scholarly, journalistic or essayistic mode—it’s almost as if they’re cowed, or intimidated, by the expectations they perceive. They end up writing stiffly and borderline pretentiously, using a fancy word like 'reside,' when the simpler 'live' is stronger and better."
• Literature and indie music - more in common than previously thought?
• A novelist and the tyranny of the word count.
• Reader's Digest files for Chapter 11 for the second time in less than four years.
• Is 'sick-lit' a symptom of an ill publishing industry?
• Today, video games are being blamed for certain social ills. Way back when, it was comic books. And it was supported with flawed findings.

Shanghaied

Some time back, I'd read a not-very-glowing assessment of Map of the Invisible World. So, when given the chance to review this book, I steeled myself for some disappointment.

I needn't have bothered.

Five Star Billionaire can be laborious to read in places, but at least it's set in a contemporary period, so it feels real. Was there anything I could say about the writing? Cadence? Tone? Pacing?

No, there wasn't. Hey, it's Tash Aw.

If there was something off about the culture, people and places in the setting, I'll leave that to those who're more qualified.

Did I like it? Not much. I won't be pushing a copy into the hands of everybody I'd meet, though I will say "It's not as bad as some people say."

---

Shanghaied?

When a bunch of Malaysian Chinese balik tongsan

first published in The Malaysian Insider, 23 February 2013


This was heard at a "live" comedy act: "There are two kinds of Chinese: rich Chinese - and potentially rich Chinese."

The audience chuckled. How stereotypical and absurd.

But tell me: Which Chinese family doesn't believe its scions are meant for something greater?

Tash Aw's latest novel, Five Star Billionaire, charts the lives of five Chinese Malaysian emigrants - a mix of these "two kinds" - to bustling Shanghai, ranked the world's 16th most expensive city last year, as they journey along their yellow brick roads.


Meet our heroes
Duped by false promises of a good job, Phoebe Chen repackages herself in an effort to move up the social ladder, guided by the words of a "five-star billionaire."

Five Star Billionaire is by Tash Aw (left), who met fans, read some
passages from the book and fielded questions during a meet-up at
Silverfish Books in Bangsar on 23 February 2013

Entrepreneur Leong Yinghui, daughter of a disgraced former government minister and jaded bohemian, enters an urban development joint venture with a mysterious partner.

Hoping to improve the fortunes of his family's flagging property firm, Justin Lim's attempt to buy a piece of real estate is stymied by a possible rival.

Scandal-dogged pop star Gary (no apparent last name) struggles to rebuild his career after a bar brawl with a drunk foreigner - proving that only Bruce Lee or Jet Li can clock a white guy and still look good.

Finally, there's enigmatic business guru Walter Chao, whose soliloquies in the novel could have come out of a self-help book. Chapter headings reminiscent of stratagems from The Art of War enforce that feel.

Of course, their paths will intersect at certain points in the story. Otherwise, there wouldn't be any point to having so many characters.


This looks familiar
Like the stand-up comic, Aw serves up these flawed, sad bunch of could-have-beens for our entertainment and maybe some reflection. It's quite a pick: the pisau cukur wannabe; the scion of a property giant; the Idol contest winner; the single, lonely-yet-insecure, gaydar-tripping career woman; and the egocentric, emotionally distant know-it-all.

Though interesting and compelling, this is no beach novel. Aw's writing is lush and descriptive, and he packs his yarn with more about the protagonists than the casual reader can handle.

Much of it feels familiar. Phoebe's obsession with status and resentment of the upper classes and her perceived lowly station are infuriating, and just when her life starts turning around, she throws it all away. In Gary, we see the travails of talent-contest winners who crack under the glare of publicity and pressures of celebrity.

Yinghui the boho chick is heaps more annoying than Yinghui the entrepreneur who craves recognition for her hard-won business savvy. Her impassioned, self-righteous frothing-in-the-mouth over plans to demolish an iconic cinema building reads like so many Facebook posts.

We're so glad when those illusions are shattered but the crisp lapels she adopts later in life don't suit her and watching her try to fit into them is tiresome. And what is Justin doing, moping around, meeting strange women and trying to hook up with Yinghui after the deal goes pear-shaped?

What they all ultimately share are varying degrees of parental estrangement, the discomfort with who they currently are, and the need to prove something to the world.


Cautious optimism
You might have encountered at least one of these five archetypes in real life and, perhaps, sneered at them with derision or helped yourselves to some schadenfreude at their failures. You think nothing of it, until you begin exhibiting the same traits.

Reading about the media circus around Gary's fall and Justin being trolled by anonymous armchair crusaders online can get a tad uncomfortable. But we feel little sympathy for the characters. Maybe that's the mental defense mechanism kicking in, trying to blot out unpleasant truths.

Of all the lessons in this book, the strongest seems to be: nothing good comes from stepping outside the box.

All of Aw's characters – except maybe Walter – ventured out of their comfort zones and got burned. But does that mean there are no paths to Oz other than the beaten ones?

Towards the end of the novel, they still seem to be looking. That's when we really start rooting for them because, in the end, all of us believe that we are meant for greater things.

---

Five Star Billionaire

Tash Aw
Fourth Estate (2013)
434 pages
Fiction
ISBN: 978-0-00-749416-3

Mantel Gets Flak For Bringing Up Royal Bodies

Multi-book-award-winner Hilary Mantel riled up passions with a Nile-long essay on how some of us see royal women, with examples such as Marie Antoinette, Lady Di, and Queen Elizabeth II. But it was what she wrote about Kate Middleton that twanged some nerves. The 5,000-plus-word piece became an 'attack on Kate' that many, including England's PM Dave Cameron, took offence with.

Many arguments defending Mantel have since surfaced, so it's pointless for me to comment in detail. So I'm left to ponder: Were the descriptions of royal women Mantel's own, or did she describe an image manufactured by the media for public consumption? Two voices, both in The Guardian, believe it's the latter.

"Tabloid papers – actually, all papers if we're honest – deal in templates and received ideas: in pretty princesses, snooty highbrow authors, smirking fiends and tragic tots," writes Sam Leith. "It's in the nature of that trade, though, that you can't write about the templates and received ideas themselves. That is a level of reflexiveness, a level of self-scrutiny, too far. Mantel was attacking the paper doll in which newspapers have imprisoned the real Kate Middleton."

So, it's no surprise that the papers fought back. That, at least, is Hadley Freeman's argument, that this whole media storm is "a story of lazy journalism and raging hypocrisy".

"Mantel was discussing how the royal family and the media manipulate women; it is of little surprise that the media would attack her back," she states. "But this nonsense highlights how it is still, apparently, impossible to be a woman and put forth a measured opinion about one of your own without it being twisted into some kind of screed-ish, unsisterly attack."

For many, the problem with Mantel's essay was probably its length; had 2,500 words been shaved from it, readers would've been able to reach the bottom, where she finally got to the point:

We are happy to allow monarchy to be an entertainment, in the same way that we license strip joints and lap-dancing clubs. Adulation can swing to persecution, within hours, within the same press report: this is what happened to Prince Harry recently.

...It may be that the whole phenomenon of monarchy is irrational, but that doesn’t mean that when we look at it we should behave like spectators at Bedlam. Cheerful curiosity can easily become cruelty. It can easily become fatal. We don’t cut off the heads of royal ladies these days, but we do sacrifice them, and we did memorably drive one to destruction a scant generation ago.

She didn't have to spell it out, did she? However, it seems like little has changed since then.

I haven't been fond of the British media of late. How it justifies its muckraking and disregard for private space is beyond galling, which means we probably shouldn't expect any soul-searching from Fleet Street.

Give the way Mantel worded it, her prescription for detoxifying the way the media portrays royalty - or other celebrities, for that matter - may be a bitter pill to swallow.