Zany Zambian Caper

Before I started at the current job, one of the books published by the company caught my attention with its writing and font selection. To hear that it didn't fly off the shelves is sad, especially after I proofed it for e-book publication.

You'd think people would at least be piqued by a title like Peeing in the Bush.

In spite of the title (or perhaps because of it), this punny, punchy,
pungent and at times poignant travelogue didn't move at light speed.
Why, I wonder?

Far from a survival manual for travellers venturing into places with non-existent plumbing, PitB is a travelogue of author Adeline Loh's (mis)adventures in Zambia, which began as many of these adventures do:

"WHAT??!" [my boss] said, his eyes bulging out in disbelief. "Let me get this straight. You're quitting, for no reason whatsoever, but to go have fun?"

"Yeah," I replied nonchalantly.

He regarded me suspiciously. "And this isn’t because you've got another job offer?"

"Nah."

"So where are you going?"

"I dunno." I shrugged. "Africa, perhaps."

Of course, Loh had trouble convincing people that she wasn't nuts for picking the Dark Continent as a travel destination; it's amazing how many prejudices people have about Africa and its people and wildlife.

And finding a companion for the trip was hard. Eventually, Loh settled on "Chan", a "typical sheltered goody-goody" who's also Buddhist and vegetarian, whom she met and sparred with at a martial arts class.

She wasted little time pitching to Chan the adventure of a lifetime:

"Zambia is the ultimate undiscovered adventure travel country, Chan!" I started babbling, widening my eyes and waving my hands about passionately. "It's home to the world's widest waterfall Victoria Falls and the awesome Zambezi River! We’ll go on unforgettable safaris where you'll have real close encounters with unique mammals! It will be like we're in a perpetual Animal Planet documentary! And the wild scenery ... mmm, you’ll be picking your jaw off the floor! Can you believe all of this is found in one friendly country? Trust me, you won't regret it – it will be the trip of a lifetime!"

If you have a bridge (or two) in Penang you'd like to sell, Loh's your girl.


Zambia in a nutshell - or two
Visa problems upon touchdown in Zambia is a great way to start one's very first African sojourn, as Loh found out.

She and her sidekick Chan's itinerary included a safari in South Luangwa National Park, paddling a canoe along a stretch of the Zambezi River, a visit to the Livingstone Museum, getting hammered (Loh, not Chan) at a sunset booze cruise, and a private (and disastrous) five-day mobile safari in a beat-up van at Kafue National Park.

And what trip to Zambia would be complete without a fly-by of Victoria Falls (again, only Loh) in a microlight?

Of course, Loh was prepared for her African voyage, which includes getting acquainted with the local vernacular: "Encouraged, I bravely practised more words I had learnt from the guidebooks ... the most essential being Yadula! (It is too much!), Chonde, ndi paseni mowa (Please give me a beer), and Onani! Njoka! (Look! A snake!)"

Even so, they were not quite prepared for the squalor in some of the neighbourhoods they visited or passed. Urban perils include being propositioned by local men, smooth-talking vendors, dodgy safari guides (the dodgiest one was a one-eyed huckster that sounded like he was conscripted straight out of an Indiana Jones flick) and temperamental managers of various lodges, motels and hostels - on top of rickety vehicles, could-be-better public transport, problem plumbing and the barely-there roads.

Out in the bush, hippo-infested waters, crocodiles, baboons, lions, the matriarch of an elephant herd and biting, stinging insects made things exciting. There is in fact a bit about how to pee in the bush, but the fun, as Loh demonstrated, is how you get there.

She packed a lot of her observations, recollections and research into this book, which will serve lost travellers who find themselves without a corresponding Lonely Planet or Fodor's guide (do note that it's been years since this book was written).

Her breezy gonzo style: punny, gung-ho and a little heavy on the adjectives hint at a polished pen and years of writing. The text knows how to grab the eyeballs and hold the reader's attention.

Nevertheless, Loh adroitly skips the snark for some topics. A certain poignancy is evoked when she outlines the stark reality in Zambia and several neighbouring countries: poverty, corrupt and despotic leaders, lack of infrastructure and the ravages of AIDS and the courage and stoicism of the locals struggling to get by. Not to mention the problems national parks have with poachers and the bushmeat trade. Ultimately, we end up knowing more than we'd ever want to about this corner of the world.


Smart and witty
But it's the funny turns of phrase that really sell the book; if it weren't for the occasional reference to Malaysia, you wouldn't realise this was a local production. And how the phrases turn. Take this excerpt from a dinner at a restaurant:

When dinner was served, I nearly had a heart attack. Clearly they had mistaken a lone, 40-kilo, five-foot-one Chinese girl for a small African village. I sat down to the kingly feast: a washing basin of starter soup with three dinner rolls the size of bricks, a huge two-inch thick slab of medium-rare T-bone steak, a large avocado stuffed with mashed eggs, a whole baked potato the size of an infant's head and a wok-sized bowl of raw salad. I could not see the table anymore and wondered how many days it was going to take for me to finish everything.

Then there's an early encounter with a denizen of the Zambian wilds at a safari chalet, leading to this comedy routine of an exchange:

"...a palm-sized hairy spider clinging to the seasick-green wall like an unsightly mottled-grey mole. With its white-banded legs spread widely, it zipped around like a frenetic UFO before pausing to taunt us. Chan tried to shoo it away.

"Don't do that! Kill it, KILL IT!" I yelled like a lunatic.

"I can't!" she cried. "I'm Buddhist!"

That still cracks me up.

We also get some animal sex. Specifically, hippo sex. Loh sounded underwhelmed, though:

"...there wasn't much rumpy pumpy going on. The inactive male merely lay motionless atop her like a dead fish. Every now and then, she'd come up for air and continue making the breathy sex sounds. That's as exciting as it got. I hoped she's had better."

Ouch.

Though her artistry with words really shine in some of the passages, a few glowing examples can be found, like this one:

"...the large marabou stork captivated me the most. It’s the ugliest, most ghastly bird you will ever see in your life, with a clunky bill, grubby head and the back of its dirty pink neck riddled with short sparse hairs. Still, the moment I laid eyes on the scavenger dining on the rotting dead and pooping on its own legs to cool off, I knew I was in love with Zambia."

(You're right, Adeline. Maybe my backyard could use a bridge...)

And all the above was just from their romp around South Luangwa National Park – about one-thirds into the book.


But is it too "clever"?
I also noted her commment on the canoe trip along part of the Zambezi River: "Nothing could beat creeping up on drinking elephants, examining the dental work of yawning hippos and inviting crocodiles over for tea by dipping our fingers in the water. It was going to be the thrill of a lifetime ... as long as nobody dies."

Such cautious bravado drips from time to time, befitting the setting in which this escapade took place. But I wonder if anybody told her that bull sharks can also be found in parts of the Zambezi, hence one of its aliases, the Zambezi shark?

Some, however, might find the snark too thick, the tone too pandering to foreign audiences. Critics might think Loh's trying too hard to be clever; samplings of the above can feel gimmicky, and one can't be blamed for thinking she's showboating. And, as a former boss once said, "Gonzo is dead."

Is it really, though?

Because as attention spans shrink along with the length of what's written these days, I still believe it's this kind of work that readers are likely to pass the time with. The tone is light, with enough trivia, insight and gravitas that makes you feel a little more joyful and wiser after you're done.

That's true for me, at least. And I've read much worse.


Not quite "wretched", "godforsaken"
In spite of their travails, Loh and Chan came out unscathed (otherwise, no book). The former was even left with an "African hangover", the kind one experiences after listening to a certain song by Toto. In her words:

"I had anticipated a whole lot but I hadn't anticipated becoming so attached to a country my dad had described as a 'wretched, godforsaken place'. We had had the time of our lives, and surprisingly, ended up none the worse for wear. By sheer miracle we had given food poisoning, yellow fever, bilharzia, malaria, hypothermia, sleeping sickness, meningitis, fungal infections, intestinal tapeworms and drowning a miss. Best of all, we did not get eaten.

"Even so, I was going home with something else: memories of Zambia that would continue to haunt me for the rest of my life and make me wish I had never left ... the Southern Cross [constellation], lions brushing past our open vehicle, boisterous markets, walking safaris, fleeing from hippos on the Zambezi, Play-Doh nshima (an African staple), gliding over phenomenal Victoria Falls, bush loos, booze cruises, mud villages and spending the night in Beat-Up Van would reduce me to a space cadet for months on end.

"All the beautiful, warm people who shared their intriguing and scary stories with us. All the adorable animals that could not wait to devour us. And all the fabulous salmon-pink sunsets that never failed to leave me gasping for air like an asthmatic."

Zikomo kwambiri (thank you very much), Adeline Loh and Chan, for sharing.


While I do not review books published by the company, this one came out around 2009, about a year before I joined. Still, it feels like I'm skirting a VERY tight bend by classifying this as a bona fide book review.

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Peeing in the Bush

Two Panicky Girls, Lots of Dangerous Wildlife, One Hell of a Trip

Adeline Loh
MPH Group Publishing (2009)
231 pages
Non-fiction
ISBN: 978-983-36986-0-8

On The Verge Of Touching The Sky

Let the tracks in Owl City's Mobile Orchestra move your heart to the edge of the earth and soar to the heavens


"I ain't to sure what I believe in, but I believe in what I see
And when I close my eyes, I see my whole life ahead of me..."

So begins "Verge", the first track in Owl City's latest album, Mobile Orchestra.

In May, before the album's release, Owl City frontman Adam Young tweeted (or "hooted", if you like) the lyric video for the "Verge" single, which revolved around graduating from college or university.

Aloe Blacc, his collaborator for the track, thought the graduation angle would be great for it; Young's was about weddings. Either angle works; the rousing anthemic track can be trotted out to celebrate a new phase in one's life. When R&B and hip-hop man Blacc heard the track, he felt that "it sounded like it could be ... quite inspirational."

Oh, very much, from the way it straps rockets to your heart and launches it to the "edge of the earth and we're touching the sky tonight..."

I finally got a copy of the album in September. So I'm a little slow. Or perhaps it's the music stores here.

The album's title was inspired by Young's realisation of how technology allowed him to stuff an orchestra's worth of sounds in a laptop – to him, a blessing and a curse – and his inability to switch off the creative side of his brain that's being bothered by an unfinished song or melody. One the bright side, he doesn't need to assemble a band of humans to scratch that musical itch.

His early stuff has been derided as light, fluffy and sweet; I'd call it pixie-dust electronica/synthpop. He even manages to make werewolves ("Wolf Bite", not in this album) and the aftermath of a father's suicide ("This Isn't the End") sound nice and cheerful – that is, if you don't pay too much attention to the lyrics.

From The Midsummer Station onwards, however, I feel he's moving even more towards experiments with different sounds and genres, and joint efforts with other artistes. Yuna worked with Young on "Shine Your Way", featured in the Dreamworks animated feature The Croods.

After "Fireflies", I've been looking forward to his new releases. I'm not a fan of every piece, but when there are more hits and misses in an album, it's worth the time and effort to own one.

The album kicks of with "Verge", which encapsulates the excitement and anticipation of one on the cusp of receiving one's degree. Listeners are transported back to the graduation hall (or whichever milestone), all nervous and elated at being on the threshold of a new life.

Blacc's resonant vocals in the middle (bridge, maybe?) convey the soaring pride, joy and conviction in the new graduate's pledge to make good and do good with the acquired skills and knowledge:

From now on there's no looking back
Full steam ahead on this one-way track
From this day forward I will make a promise
To be true to myself and always be honest
For the rest of my life, I will do what's right...

Much has also been said about Young's spirituality, and fans have been combing his work for signs of that. Several pieces in Mobile Orchestra leave no doubt that he's a good devout boy from Owatonna, Minnesota. "You are my light in the dark," he croons in "My Everything", "and I sing with all of my heart..."

This track is, Young said, "my attempt at summing up how important my faith is to me, and certainly how much influence it is, not just the decisions I make creatively as an artiste but every area of my life, you know ... across the whole board."

He also hopes it will provide encouragement to the "spiritually weary or tired" who need a nudge to get out of whatever fix they're in. "If somebody's mood is lightened for 30 seconds or a minute while they're driving to work because of this song, I felt my job is done."

I think part of it also has something to do with his insomnia, and having gone through several sleepless nights myself, I can empathise – especially if he's sleeping better these days. Sleep deprivation is not funny, and one is always glad when pleas for deliverance are answered.

Besides Blacc, he also collaborated with several other musicians and artistes for this album. "Unbelievable" – which sees Young and the guys from Hanson recalling stuff they had or experienced when they were kids, including the Fresh Prince, Jazzy Jeff, Lion King, Jurassic Park and "I won't lie, my friends and I were too legit to quit" – was bubbly straightforward fun.

"You're Not Alone" (with Britt Nicole), Young suggests, addresses and assuages the feelings of isolation and being distant one feels, even within a crowd or among a gathering of loved ones. The chorus says different, though.

The country-themed "Back Home" is also particularly emotive. This track, featuring US country singer Jake Owen, brings a tear (or ten) to the eye as the verses strum the heartstrings, compelling one to pack one's bags and say hello to tree lines, "free time and starry nights, to bonfires and fireflies".

And as one's vision blurs with each additional reminiscence, memories get addled and some of the lyrics start sounding different...

Back home there's a girl named Ong Joleen
A kopitiam off the main road that I've never been
And every red-dirt road is a trip down memory lane
And back home, where the palms grow thirty feet tall
And momma's chicken curry is the best of all
The casuarinas are waving till we come back home again

Even the last track, the previously mentioned "This Isn't the End", didn't dampen the overall mood created by the album. Instead, one is left with hope and optimism that things will be okay, that more and better Owl City tunes are still to come.

With great tracks and great replay value, Mobile Orchestra is the album to grab and keep you company in a traffic jam or, better yet, your balik kampung journey as you say goodbye to the street lights and city skyline.

♪ So pack your bags it's time to go~ ♫

Book Marks: Sour Notes, Court Battles, And The Hundredth Review

Perhaps the biggest news last week was how a local columnist splashed ice water with a dash of lemon juice on a Facebook group's anniversary celebration. Then comes the broad tar brush: Are these Malaysian writers serious about their craft or is this a self-congratulatory exercise?

One can argue that, if others outside the circle can't or won't acknowledge them or their efforts, where else can they turn to for support? Writers need to earn a living, and it's hard if you're a writer and nobody's heard of or couldn't care less about you. So any kind of buzz is welcome.

I won't say anymore on this, so here's a rebuttal of sorts. And a response from one of the Facebook group's two administrators.

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ZI Publications failed in its bid to nullify Selangor Shariah law over seizures of translated editions of Irshad Manji's Allah, Liberty and Love. The Federal Court, according to The Malaysian Insider, ruled "that the Selangor legislative assembly had acted within its powers when making the Shariah law that criminalises the publishing of publications deemed un-Islamic and upheld the state law as constitutional."

So, as I understand it, Ezra Zaid, as head of ZI Publications, could still be fined, jailed or both for publishing that book. What a thing to happen on Banned Books Week. (Here's a small sample of books banned worldwide.)

BFM89.9 marked the end of Banned Books Week in the second half (at 15:00) of this podcast. A couple of revelations: desk clerks or officers at customs, etc., are arbitrary "banning" books and Umapagan Ampikaipakan wrote a book?

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Cookbook editor Judith Jones, in her own words. Some phrases after my own heart:

The most important thing an editor can do is be a diplomat. It's not your book, but you can subtly try, and it usually ends up that the writers express themselves so much more clearly. At least, that was my experience.

It's funny, because the harder the books were to edit, the more challenging they were, the more fun, in a way.

If you want to write, write. It has to be a passion. When you edit, you're willing to stay up all night and then be slapped in the face.

Unrealistic as it is, I hope I won't have to be her age to enjoy being that wise and sharp.

Of course, Jones points out that "I still don't think I'm necessarily a cookbook editor."


Also:

• Author Lauren Myracle calls on overprotective parents to stop banning books. Myracle's own books: ttyl, ttfn and l8r, g8r were among the American Library Associations' (ALA) list of frequently challenged books for 2009 and 2011.
• The Guardian interviews author Elizabeth Gilbert "on creativity, women’s fear of failing and not caring what others think", in conjunction with the release of her latest, Big Magic. On chasing perfection, Gilbert says: "Perfection murders joy. You cut yourself out of the game before you even start."
• The Margaret Atwood webchat, also in The Guardian, as it happened. Includes, among other things, a nudge for writers and other people in general: "This was the 1950s. I was a teenager. I didn't see why I couldn't do things, so I did them. If I'd known the odds I might have been discouraged. But just this: if you don't try, nothing happens."
• Oh yes: Fixi Novo has issued a call for submissions for its next anthology, PJ Confidential. Deadline for submissions is on 30 November. Get cracking, people.
• "Dreadful debut", "plotless", "written in sixth-form prose", "publishers should be ashamed of themselves" ... damn, so much love for Morrissey's debut novel, List of the Lost. "Do not read this book" seems to be the general consensus. But how else will we know it's bad? So yes, this is likely to backfire.

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And with this, I've published a hundred book reviews on this blog since I started reviewing.

The hundredth review I'd written since I started reviewing, however, is of another novel, one in another series I also enjoyed that is, while not magic fantasy, is still kind of magical. The review hasn't been published yet.

From the day the hype about Sorcerer to the Crown exploded online, I wondered whether I could say anything different. Turns out I couldn't. I wanted to add a bit more, but what's already there laden with exposition. And this novel packs a lot of stuff; I think I've spoiled a fifth of it already.

So I didn't talk about familiars and how important they are to mages and the plot; those who have read it, however, might recognise the dragon on the red cover from US publisher Ace Books. Am I the only one who finds the UK cover ugly and headache-inducing?

While I hate to be part of any choir (and this one's huge), I think I'd delivered an honest assessment of this novel.

This Gentleman's A Lady

An indelibly enchanting Regency-era adventure casts its spell on readers


So London-based Malaysian author Zen Cho published a work of fantasy titled Sorcerer to the Crown and everyone lost their minds. Sci-fi author Mary Robinette Kowal said "This is the book I wish I'd written. SUCH a fantastic use of language. So good. SO GOOD."

Award-winning American sci-fi/fantasy author Ann Leckie says those partial to Jane Austen, Patrick O'Brian "or magic and humor like Susanna Clarke ... you will really, really enjoy this!" Justine Larbalestier, another award-winning author, "would marry this book if I could."

Go, get the book now. Do I need to say anything else?

Well, if you insist.


Pride, prejudice and persons thaumaturgical
The Regency era in the United Kingdom (1811–1820) was characterised by the rule of George Augustus Frederick, Prince of Wales, as Prince Regent until he took the throne as King George IV.

In Cho's world, where magic exists and supernatural creatures share our borders, this was around the time England's mages are having problems casting spells. For their own reasons, the faeries have blocked the flow of magic into the kingdom.

Not a good time, particularly when the ruler of one tiny far-flung corner of the world needs help. Relations with France aren't good (have they ever been?) Plus, the muggles in the government are thinking of stripping the magicians of their privileges.

And I thought the water shortages in the Klang Valley were bad.

Thrust into this mess is Zacharias Wythe, England's Sorcerer Royal, whose responsibilities now include getting the magic flowing into the kingdom again. Thing is, his colleagues think he's unsuited for the role. Somebody wants him dead. He's even accused of killing his predecessor, Sir Stephen Wythe, for the top job.

Zach (let's call him that) is getting all this love because he is black. As a boy he was adopted by Sir Stephen and trained in magic, but making him his successor was way beyond the pale for many.

Because Malaysians from the diaspora are prone to fits of flag-waving when deprived of their sambal, Cho throws some local flavour into the mix as well. During a visit by the Sultan of the island of Janda Baik (said ruler of that tiny far-flung corner of the world), an old Malay witch called Mak Genggang appears, Sauron-like, in Zach's crystal ball and makes some nasty remarks about the ruler. But the crone doesn't stop there...

(Janda Baik is also a village in modern-day Pahang. The scryers at Google suggest it's a scenic rural getaway.)

Respite for Zach comes when a friend of a friend needs someone to present a speech at a school for "gentlewitches" where young ladies are taught to repress their magical gifts for their own good. So it's kind of funny when he ends up walking into a sorcerous catfight between two students upon his arrival.

Zach's attention, however, is drawn to Prunella Gentleman (not just because she's pretty), a half-Indian girl and essentially the school dogsbody, who is deflecting an irate girl's hexes with some expertise.

Prue's natural talent for spellcasting inspires Zach to work on bringing female magicians into the mainstream, starting with her. So she follows him to London and, naturally, gets tangled up in his job to fix Britain's magic deficit – and the plot to unseat him as Sorcerer Royal.

Of course, things wouldn't be half as exciting for everyone if Prue didn't have something revelatory lurking in her past and her late father's hand luggage.


It's a lady's world
Readers unfamiliar with the Regency style might conclude that this novel was written thus to hide minor plot holes and structural flaws and glam up what might sound mundane if penned in 21st-century parlance - even if she is putting to use all that reading steeped in the period in which the novel is set.

And yes, the faeries' embargo of magic. They have a reason for that, but the way it was carried out was ... clumsy? Not though through? Happens when a race relies too much on magic rather than brains to fix things.

And when the mastermind and motives behind the attempts at Zach's life are revealed, how that part was resolved veers dangerously towards bathos, thanks to what I'd consider a deus ex machina.

Still, you can't help but admire how Cho pulled it off. Nor can one dismiss the novel's feminist vibes. There's enough wit, humour, dumb male behaviour and smart female behaviour to keep the pages flipping, even if the turns of phrase are a little tedious.

Fiercely independent Prue is a wickedly delightful lady, as is Mak Genggang, whose part in the plot and Prue's development as a sorceress steadily grows (though the former seems too genre-savvy for my liking). Even Zach's stepmom-of-sorts, Lady Maria Wythe, is a force to be reckoned with. But it's sad to see the poor Sorcerer Royal getting upstaged more and more towards the novel's end.

Despite not setting out to "write a 'message' novel", there seems to be some comment on how the West sees the East (no way that old Malay witch could hack into a Brit's crystal ball) and the illusion of Western superiority (oh yes, she did).

And, oh, the utter cringeworthiness in how the privileged abuse finite resources like magic. One bristles at the image of a bunch of dandies amusing themselves and wasting precious mystical reserves by making their reflections recite poetry.

I was wary of joining the growing choir of voices falling under Cho's spell and afraid the hype surrounding her debut was all smoke and mirrors. So I was glad to have enjoyed Sorcerer to the Crown, though I don't think any book deserves offers of marriage in exchange for a good time.

And it ends nicely too, so I wonder if the saga of the Sorcerer Royal should be continued in future instalments. If so, Cho has her work cut out for her to top this effort.

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Sorcerer to the Crown

Zen Cho
Ace Books (2015)
371 pages
Fiction
ISBN: 978-0-425-28337-0

Memoirs Of A Monster

When I started out reviewing books, my aim wasn't to become a literary critic - though there was no harm in aspiring towards being one. A danger of this is that, at some point, I will encounter a book I detest, or run out of steam.

Or I'd discover a book that's so well written and fun, my writer's ego would shrivel into a raisin.

Hence, the title of my blog - which is becoming a self-fulfilling prophecy as the days drag on.

I have ditched books before. A recent one was the much-hyped The Strange Library by Haruki Murakami. Upon finishing it, I knew it would be a long time before I checked out the rest of his bibliography. Does that make me less of a critic, or a reader?

But, so far, no other book has caused me as much pain to read as Jonathan Littell's The Kindly Ones.

Originally titled Les Bienveillantes and written in French, this piece of historical fiction is what I'd call the memoirs of a monster. Maximilien Aue, a former Nazi officer during World War Two and director of a lace factory in the "present", speaks to the reader about his life during those troubled times where he either participated in or bore witness to many wartime horrors and atrocities.

I found this over-900-page novel a long, bleak tableau of human misery, evil, hubris and hypocrisy. Nor have I felt a more intense dislike of a fictional character than the one I had of Aue. His attempts to justify his behaviour ("those were the times, I did what I had to" and all that) is offset greatly by the nature of his deeds.

One unsavoury aspect of him is his sexuality, which I felt was played up to make him even less likeable. Aue has a twin sister with whom he had an incestuous relationship. Though he has had numerous homosexual affairs throughout his life, he still has fantasies about his sibling.

The depiction of one of these, located at the last third of this long novel, comes off sounding like a scene from Clash of the Titans (the 1981 version). Perhaps, unsurprisingly, this scene won The Kindly Ones Literary Review's Bad Sex Award for 2009.

At times, he sounds smug, and the long-winded eloquence in his narration feels as though he's smacking the reader down with his above-average intelligence. Yet, he states that "I am a man like you. I tell you I am just like you!"

Sure.

And it was hard to keep up with Aue as he trudges through the war-torn landscape, from massacre sites to concentration camp, with stopover in idyllic towns in between. The prose was laborious, the scenes so cheerless and colourless, I started putting the book down every thirty, twenty-five, twenty and a dozen pages.

I no longer wanted to know what happened next. I didn't care who else he screwed and screwed over, who he offended, whether or not he killed his mother and stepfather when his crazy took over his body.

Well, he might be a gentle soul with a brilliant mind, warped by circumstances in life into what he is, but I couldn't - wouldn't - empathise. I just wanted the book to end.

And, when it finally does, I breathed deep and "Oh thank goodness!" ... then it hit me: "Merde, ce connard survived - and he is still alive!"

Thus, one completes the joyless experience in reading the winner of the Grand Prix du roman de l'Académie française and the Prix Goncourt in 2006.

If this non-review seems too general, ranty and uninsightful, it's because I relied on Wikipedia to fill in the factual gaps because I can't bring myself to revisit the advanced reading copy I'd been given.

All I now remember of the experience was the pain, which is still palpable every time I see the title.

At some point, not long after this experience, I've resigned myself to the fact that authors are not here solely to entertain or cheer up readers. History is replete with stellar testimonies of human stupidity and cruelty; the Nazi era is but a piece on a big old dirtied and bloodstained tapestry that's still being woven today.

Every now and then, a lone voice from the wilderness reminds us of this.

Littell's research for The Kindly Ones was probably as enervating as the prose, and I can't imagine why he'd go through all that trouble to step into the jackboots of a man like Aue. This undertaking can't be merely an academic exercise.

Perhaps this bit from Wikipedia might shed some light on his motives:

Littell said he wanted to focus on the thinking of an executioner and of origins of state murder, showing how we can take decisions that lead, or not, to a genocide. Littell claims he set out creating the character Max Aue by imagining what he would have done and how he would have behaved if he had been born into Nazi Germany. One childhood event that kept Littell interested in the question of being a killer was the Vietnam War. According to him, his childhood terror was that he would be drafted, sent to Vietnam "and made to kill women and children who hadn't done anything to me."

Whereas the influence of Greek tragedies is clear from the choice of title, the absent father, and the roles of incest and parricide, Littell makes it clear that he was influenced by more than the structure of The Oresteia. He found that the idea of morality in Ancient Greece is more relevant for making judgments about responsibility for the Holocaust than the Judeo-Christian approach, wherein the idea of sin can be blurred by the concepts such as intentional sin, unintentional sin, sinning by thought, or sinning by deed. For the Greeks it was the commission of the act itself upon which one is judged: Oedipus is guilty of patricide, even if he did not know that he was killing his father.

From this, one can say a person can be made to kill people who hadn't truly wronged him. We have many examples of this in recent memory. All that trouble in the Middle East, for starters.

Then and now, my inability to dissect this book like a critic wasn't just hampered by my inexperience but largely by what I felt about the book. To even mention the Bad Sex thing was a low blow. Still, if it was an exploration of how a human behaves during war and how propaganda and circumstance leads one to certain questionable actions, etc., couldn't it have been done with fewer words?

And I think it was this ... wilful refusal to acknowledge this effort - as well as my inability to comprehend the premise behind the novel and the history it portrays - that still haunts me.

I'm still light years away from the badge of "critic", and I've always felt that my harsh and superficial judgement of books like The Kindly Ones casts a deep dark shadow across my efforts to reach that badge.

A shadow I'm still struggling to banish.

Fifth Palate in Kota Damansara: A Love Story

first published in The Malay Mail Online, 22 September 2015


Once upon a time, a couple, Dennis and Joyce, opened an eatery somewhere in Happy Garden. They sold familiar stuff: nasi lemak, fried rice, Nyonya curries and rendang, and a whole lot more.

It's not just what's sold at Fifth Palate, but also the people behind it.

Dennis, who dabbles with home-made stuff like yoghurt, rojak sauce, sesame sauce and the like, sometimes sold the results of his experiments at the eatery, Joy Café.

Though I can’t remember when the café first opened its doors, makan kaki Melody and I have known this place for years. It didn’t take long for Joy to become an institution among residents nearby.

Then, the inevitable: Joy closed its doors towards the end of April 2015. I think the staff turnover was a major factor, apart from age. Imagine having to train new employees from scratch every year or so.

The uncomplicated yet tasty "Everybody Loves Ramen" is certain to be
among Fifth Palate’s signature dishes.

No more home-made yoghurt. No more orange-flavoured white coffee. No more simple heartwarming fare from a couple we’ve known for years.

While I was still digesting this, Melody WhatsApped me a photo of a noodle dish. Of course, she managed to do so while I was hungry and bored at work.

I think my reply was along the lines of “What is it called never mind I know what it is it is lovely it looks good it has egg it has pork IT HAS PORK OMG GIMME OM NOM NOM NOM NOM.”

Even better: this came from a place run by Dennis and Joyce’s kids.

Family affair: Dennis’s home experiments now have a label and
are on sale at Fifth Palate.

That was how I ended up driving all the way from Old Klang Road to Kota effing Damansara to Encorp Strand Office Garden, where Fifth Palate is located.

Inside and out, it looked no different from the dozens of hipster coffee joints out there. But I suppose few millennials would want to open and run a Joy Café-like place, all formica tops and wooden stools, serving kopitiam fare.

♪ What shall we do with this Drunken Frenchman, what shall
we do with this Drunken Frenchman, eat it in the morning~ ♫

The menu was limited in terms of mains: the prerequisite big breakfast was there, along with baked eggs and my quarry: the French toast and the ramen dish Melody told me about.

The components of "Everybody Loves Ramen" is guaranteed to make everybody love ramen. Several thick chunks of pork belly brought back memories of Mom’s steamed pork belly and yam dish; slices of apricot mushroom were a joy to chew; and next to a pile of noodles was a poached egg. All of this was immersed in a flavourful shoyu broth.

I managed to eat my way around the dish until the egg and a bit of broth remained. The intact egg was finally in my mouth and I bit down, flooding every corner with liquid yolk.

A plainclothes waiter came to pick up my empty bowl. “Was it really that good?”

Yes, and I didn’t have breakfast.

Dennis's wheatgrass yoghurt with a touch of pandan: a little jar
of happiness from a once-soulful little corner of Happy Garden.

A little earlier, a waitress asked if I’d like my French toast after my ramen. I said yes, and she told the kitchen to hold it. She returned as I was finishing up, and after checking with me, duly informed the kitchen to start prepping the item.

What service!

The French toast arrived.

Now, a French toast at Joy Café was a French toast. Fifth Palate’s version, the "Drunken Frenchman", was a chthonic-looking pile of fried bacon strips and caramelised bananas stacked on top of the actual French toast, made with Dennis’s home-made chunky peanut butter.

(If your hands feel the urge to make signs to repel sin at this point, don’t stop them.)

The "Frenchman" was crowned with a single scoop of Forty Licks vanilla ice-cream garnished with a mint leaf and surrounded by lashings of what might be a Guinness-based reduction.

OM NOM NOM.

And how could I wrap up this meal without a taste of Dennis’s wheatgrass yoghurt?

Instead of a tiny tub of recyclable plastic, the yoghurt now comes in a covered glass jar (and a higher price tag) that’s served on a small wooden tray.

Nevertheless, one slurp of that creamy, rich pandan-tinged wheatgrass-y sweetness brought me back to a corner of Happy Garden, surrounded by green walls and listening to LiteFM on an old radio, shooting the breeze with Dennis and Joyce and getting ribbed by Melody over eating too much.

It brought me back home.

---

Fifth Palate

Block D-G-1, Encorp Strand Garden Office
Jalan PJU 5/1
47810 Petaling Jaya
Selangor

CLOSED FOR GOOD

Book Marks: Value of Books, More Book Bans, And Blogging

Has the book become "a devalued symbol of human imagination"?

An article on the cost of "free time" in modern working life got academic and writer Fiona O'Connor thinking about how the "time is money" mindset affects writing and the value of books in general.

In the contemporary market economy, invisibly-handed, brand-allied and celebrity-underpinned, how is the great novel, short story or poetry collection to be nurtured? What is the compound interest on genius for the literary canon when sales are the only justification of value?

---

So Into the River was banned and Penguin Random House New Zealand was disappointed by it.

"Into the River was chosen as the 2013 New Zealand Post Margaret Mahy Book of the Year by a respected panel of judges," it said. "The book deals with difficult issues such as bullying and racism, which are topics adolescents should be able to read about as they may well experience these issues in their own lives."

And, of course, sex. The adults supporting the ban because it's "in the public interest" that adolescents don't learn about sex and sexuality until they're 25 are deluding themselves. There are consequences in sex, regardless of how old people are when have it. Not that I'm saying "better sooner than later".

Meanwhile, a parent in Tennessee apparently confused "gynaecology with pornography" and tried to get The immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks banned, according to the author, Rebecca Skloot. Among the offending passages included a bit on how Ms Lacks discovered her cervical cancer via a self-exam.

Now, one purpose of pornography is to titillate or downright excite, and how can any description of someone discovering a cancer that way do that?

On a related note: Dav Pilkey, author of the bestselling (and most challenged) Captain Underpants series, has quietly revealed that one of his two main protagonists, Harold, grows up to marry a man.

Pilkey wrote in The Guardian:

People often ask me how I'd want to respond to those critics who would rather see my books pulled from shelves than handed to young readers. I do have an answer, and it boils down to the fact that not every book is right for every person. Some grownups are not amused by the kinds of things that make most children laugh, and so they try to stomp those things out.

I understand that people are entitled to their own opinions about books, but it should be just that: a difference of opinion. All that's required is a simple change. Instead of saying "I don't think children should read this book," just add a single word: "I don't think my children should read this book."

When it comes to books, we may not all agree on what makes for a good read – but I hope we can agree that letting children choose their own books is crucial to helping them learn to love reading.

Word.

---

Writer Faisal Tehrani gets the nod to fight the Home Ministry's ban on four of his novels: Sebongkah Batu di Kuala Berang published by PTS Litera Utama Sdn Bhd; Karbala, published by Abeerden Books World; and Tiga Kali Seminggu and Ingin Jadi Nasrallah, both published by Al-Ameen Serve Holdings Sdn Bhd.

---

Meet Seymour Britchky, the critic who time forgot:

...When food obsessives cite their heroes, they tend to invoke a particular canon: MFK Fisher and Ruth Reichl for their heady, evocative prose; Gael Greene for her saucy wit; R.W. Apple and Calvin Trillin for their bonhomous wanderings; Anthony Bourdain for his honed and hungry swagger; Jonathan Gold, because he is Jonathan freaking Gold. Britchky's people are in it for his acid tongue and gimlet eye—the way he etched a menu, a moment, a space, a feeling, an era in dining when not every plate was Instagram-ready, every interaction Yelp-able to the world. For him, every meal was personal, every review a master class in the art of food writing.

---

A recent book of comics started out when a young man from Kuching, Sarawak got conned.

And being a young man of his time, Goh naturally wanted to blog about this interesting life-lesson. But there was a problem: Goh couldn't possibly narrate this entire incident to his blog's readers.

"It would have been too wordy and less interesting," he recalls thinking.

That is when an ingenious idea lit up in his head: draw a four-frame comic strip about it.

Years later, Once Upon a Miao: Stories from the Other Side of Malaysia, is published. It's a pretty fine book.

---

Jenny "The Bloggess" Lawson has been on a roll lately. This time, on the question of whether blogging is dead:

The only thing that's dead is the possibility of making a million bucks on blogging, which honestly never existed as an attainable goal for any of us in the first place. If you're blogging to make a million dollars you should probably switch to something more lucrative, like ... I dunno ... making a sex tape.

...But here's the great thing about realizing that making a mint in blogging isn't really feasible or worthwhile ... now you're free to write whatever the shit you want to write without having to worry about brands and advertisers and alienating angry, easily-offended people who are actually really fun to alienate.

...And that's fine because every single writer writes for their own specific reason. Some of us write for a living. Some of us write for fun. Some of us write because we have no other choice because writers write always ... That is what writing is about, and blogging is just one iteration of writing. Writing never dies.

"Writing never dies." Amen.

---

Pynchon-style writing gives an unknown author's book a boost, thanks to speculation that said author could be Thomas Pynchon himself. As if the catchy cover and title won't. And I suppose it's been established that e-publishing is not the magic bullet some say it is.

Shelter And Sweet, Spicy Succour at Shokudō

first published in The Malay Mail Online, 14 September 2015


I stared at the "Closed" sign hanging on the door. Behind me was the hammering rain and the occasional rumble of thunder.

Panic began tugging at my gut.

As I checked my watch, somebody inside noticed me outside and hurried to remove the sign. Gratefully, I padded inside, leaving the bad weather behind me.

Shokudō, at Taman Paramount — your friendly neighbourhood
kare raisu place.

I am fond of curries; Japanese curry, in particular, but despaired at finding a place that has decent examples of this dish. Yes, there's that huge franchised outlet in 1 Utama and it makes good albeit expensive stuff, but that's like two kilometres of rush-hour gridlock to go through on weekdays and you are oh so tired...

So when I heard of Shokudō's existence, I checked it out. It seemed so long ago since my first time there, I can't believe that it only opened early 2015.

The interior of Shokudō: Reminiscent of the kind of eatery in
your food-related manga dreams.

Nor can I remember when my first experience with Japanese curry was. As a teenager, what I knew of it and Japanese cuisine in general came from the works of such manga artists as Daisuke Terasawa. I've since learnt that one acquires the taste for certain flavours in cuisines, apart from their history and the trivia surrounding them.

According to Japanese food company S&B, the first Japanese to eat curry (abroad) was Kenjiro Yamakawa, a scion of a samurai family who went on to become a physicist, teacher and historian.

And in 1912, the recipe for Japanese curry — with its familiar carrots and potatoes — came about and was later adopted by the Japanese army to feed its troops. Japan eventually came up with its own curry powder, and the dish is so widely eaten today, it's about as iconic as sushi.

Acquiring the taste of Japanese curry should be easy. If you can't, we can't be friends.

Tonkatsu (breaded, deep-fried pork loin cutlet) curry rice
is plain comfort after a long day.

Shokudō literally means "dining hall" or "canteen" in Nihongo, though I prefer "mess hall" — in honour of the first adopters of the curry in Japan. It's reminiscent of the kind of eatery run by Yōichi Ajiyoshi, the young protagonist of Terasawa's Mr Ajikko manga: long tables, spacious walkways, simple yet unmistakably Japanese décor. This local mess hall in Taman Paramount is also clean and neat.

Choose from over a dozen varieties of kare raisu, all made with the same fundamentals: curry sauce and short-grain rice garnished with a cherry tomato and a few slices of pickled ginger. The prerequisite carrots and potatoes are there, blended finely into the sauce to make the plate look less cluttered — a little twist by Shokudō's boss and his mentor from another establishment.

Kani cream korokke: Cream croquettes with a bit of crab
inside, plus a side salad.

Pick your favourite protein: tonkatsu (breaded and deep-fried pork loin cutlet), hirekatsu (breaded and deep-fried pork fillet cutlet, which has less fat), torikatsu (breaded and — yes, just with chicken fillet), buta or tori yakiniku (stir-fried pork or chicken), or even vegetables and korokke (cream croquettes). You can even make each dish a set with a soup, salad and green tea.

And this is only half the menu, which also features a variety of "specials" (including unagi don — banzai!), appetisers, snacks and a few desserts.

Fiery local curries are always a treat but, as one ages, the stomach yearns for mellower fare. Japanese kare fills that niche nicely. All the piquancy, minus the tongue-scouring heat, made for the end of a lousy day, especially stormy evenings.

On some days, a tori yakiniku curry rice (part of a set meal here, with
soup and a salad) will also work wonders on a weary soul.

Breaded, deep-fried stuff hates me, the way they scratch the roof of my mouth. Soaking it for a bit in curry sauce helps and it goes down easier. The tonkatsu is chewy, and what's not to like about that glistening fat? Some days I prefer the stir-fried chicken, which is just as nice.

Not up to curry? FINE. Shokudō has several non-curry udon and other dishes you can also assemble a set with, plus salads (including one with salmon), salmon sashimi, slices of marinated duck breast and other Japanese titbits to chew on while waiting for your main course.

(We still can't be friends.)

While you wait for the main course, how about some chewy, lip-smacking
and appetite-whetting marinated duck breast (aigamo rousuni)?

This rainy evening, I settled down to a set meal of a kare rice with stir-fried chicken, plus an appetiser of marinated duck breast. The duck is medium rare, sliced finely and served with sliced...

"It's onion," said the boss, who wouldn't look out of place at a fitness centre. "Can't tell, can you?"

Okay, not daikon, then.

The temptation to shovel mouthfuls of curry rice with abandon was hard to resist. This is comfort food, and I can understand its wide appeal. After a hard day's work, a nice plate of kare raisu can be as comforting as a warm bed.

Though the rain cleared long after I cleaned my plate, I was in no hurry to leave. Some Japanese tunes eased into the hall, replacing the acoustic version of some Western pop song. A lovely, familiar aroma wafted from the kitchen. As I filled my cup with hot green tea for the third time, the urge to order seconds grew.

---

Shokudō Japanese Curry Rice

No.9, Jalan 20/13
Taman Paramount
46300 Petaling Jaya

Non-halal

Tue-Sun: 12pm-3pm, 6pm-10pm

Closed on Mondays

+603-7863 0922

Facebook page

Book Marks: Nazi Goreng, Going Slow

Nazi Goreng (the English edition, Monsoon Books) by Marco Ferrarese and Psiko (Lejen Press) by Ehsan El Bakri are among the latest publications to be banned, apparently. Along with To Love Ru Darkness, news of which I'm surprised that none of the otakus on my timeline have picked up. Maybe they don't care. Maybe it's passé.

Meanwhile, the YA novel Into the River by New Zealand author Ted Dawe has been banned over what I'd define as "objectionable content". Seems it's the "first book to be banned in New Zealand for at least 22 years", according to the New Zealand Herald.

Still, it's a little bit drama to ask "Will I be burned next?"

---

Why do smart publishers build bad websites? Digital Book World says "That's because the typical publisher's site is covered with dozens of images showing frontlist releases, current bestsellers, author listings and some lame ads to join a boring mailing list.

"In other words, a publisher's site feels like an inferior online store."

Of course, the article has some suggested solutions.

---

Literary technologist Hugh McGuire trained himself to read books again to escape the relentless, fast-flowing stream of digital information and go slow.

"In the same way that snake venom can be used to produce curative antivenom, I wondered whether that old, slower form of information delivery — books — could act as a kind of antidote to the stress caused by the constant flow of new digital information," he writes in the Harvard Business Review. "Whether my inability to sustain my focus—at work, home, and on reading books—could be cured by finding ways to once again sustain my focus ... on a book."


Also:

• From Charlie Hebdo to Virginia Woolf, the webchat with Joyce Carol Oates, as it happened. It's a pretty long piece, and kind of insightful.
• The Vietnamese Ministry of Education asks a publisher to pull a "living skills" book that teaches kids to, among other things, walk on glass to build - or as a show of - courage. Yeah.
• "Toxic shock": Seems Ms Agatha Christie an expert on poisons, which sort of explains why many of her villains used lethal substances. I wonder if reviewers had a hard time being honest with her novels back then.
• Huzir Sulaiman has completed the film adaptation of The Garden of Evening Mists. Unfortunately, no further details were given, like whether it'll be out on DVD.

Bookstores Don't Ban Books

So Silverfish Books has stopped selling a book by a certain fugitive blogger.

Some people have been jumping up and down over the indie bookstore's "hypocrisy" and violation of it's supposed creed to uphold free speech and all that jazz.

Words or actions themselves have no power of their own. However, certain words or actions derive their power from how people react to them. And every society has certain hot buttons that should be left alone. Mess around long enough and one will hit that big red button.

When one starts an enterprise like Silverfish, some lofty goals are aspired towards. Then, the reality - a bookstore, indie or otherwise, is still a business venture, and the aim of a business is to make money and survive.

And when you do business in a country, you have to toe some lines, including the ones etched by society and government, lofty aspirations notwithstanding.

To stubbornly wave the "defender of freedom of expression" banner in the face of this will, at some point, prove foolhardy. A bookstore manager was persecuted by religious authorities for several years over her company's decision to sell a book - one she had no say over.

And if the "thugs" do come for Silverfish, will these social justice warriors get out of their basements and help it out?

That some people hold this Fugitive Blogger up as an icon of freedom of expression saddens me.

Before he went on the lam, he posted a picture of himself eating something that's not kosher to a certain demographic, on what was its sacred month. I believe it was deliberate. For reasons only he can articulate, he went and pushed that big red button.

Though what the Fugitive Blogger says and does might not be universally agreeable, Silverfish might have taken a chance on his book because, behind the crude language and sexist, misogynistic façade, this frank and articulate young fellow might have some redeeming qualities.

But it seems all he's doing is plumbing new lows - and hit Silverfish's big red button on the way down.

The bookstore would have anticipated the backlash from this move, including the noise over their "hypocrisy" and whatnot, and might have felt this was bearable than whatever the authorities have in store. Some die-hard supporters of Silverfish will probably be relieved by this.

I don't think it was a hard decision to make.

Run free, Fugitive Blogger. Go out there and push the limits of your freedom in the land of the brave. Keep spouting those uncomfortable truths (as you see them).

But tread lightly. No society I know of is free of big red buttons. May you never find the one in your new neighbourhood.

Once Upon a Miao: Jian Goh's "Cat City" Childhood

first published in The Malay Mail Online, 03 September 2015


In the middle of August I was given a preview of a new graphic novel (some days, I love my job), one in the vein of that now best-selling series of childhood stories, by a local illustrator.

I LOLed every few pages.

Kuching-born Goh Kheng Swee, who goes by the monikers Jian Goh and Akiraceo (or is it AkiraCEO?) and the creator of the whimsically named Miao & WafuPafu comic blog, wanted to be the first Malaysian English-language comic blogger to publish a book. But someone else apparently beat him to it.

Undaunted, he kept working on his own book and got published anyway.

Once Upon a Miao: Stories from the Other Side of Malaysia sheds some light on the childhood of East Malaysians through selected episodes in Jian's (let's call him that) formative years.

The former "RnD opto-electronic engineer" – who is now a freelance designer and sells Miao&WafuPafu merchandise – has put together an impressive all-colour compilation of all-new stories of growing up in Kuching, Sarawak. None of the entries I know of are from his comic blog, on which he has been doodling for about eight years and counting.

From hijinks at home to classroom capers and a seaside holiday, the bumpy, knee-scraping roller-blade ride that is Jian's youthful adventures is made funnier by the inclusion of manga-style facefaults and local vernacular in his art.

And did I mention that all the main characters are depicted as anthropomorphised animals?

Jian draws himself as an orange tabby because (a) Kuching, (b) he's a cat lover, and (c) cameras don't like him (I'm told). His dad is a dog because he's a dog lover; his mom's a bunny because she's as quiet as a rabbit; and his elder sisters are a horse and monkey respectively, to match their Chinese zodiac signs.

Okay, but I'm more inclined to believe that it's because humans are hard to draw; most of the homo sapiens in his book are all featureless humanoids.

One can be forgiven for assuming the main draw of this comic is the comedy. It is, and that makes the few poignant parts more moving. The chapter "My Lakia Friend" reminds us of the racism some of our fellow Malaysians face, and the author's plea to stop using the term, considered a pejorative, tugs at the heart. As did his wistful longing to reunite with his group of secondary school friends to do something crazy again.

But of course, you want to know about the comedy.

The precocious Miao (the author's feline alter ego) provides most of the laughs, but it is his hopelessly degenerate friend "Bokiu" (appropriately portrayed as a buaya), who upstages him in later parts of the book.

I also developed a soft spot for Lingling, the tomboyish "tigress" and lone rose among Miao's group, which also comprises the gangster-like chicken nicknamed "Rippy", a football-loving monkey called "Haw", and a smooth-talking... whatever called "Mus".

Plus, I got to learn some phrases (the Chinese vernacular is different over there, too). Maiku (can be loosely translated as "dammit") features a lot, and feels satisfying to use.

I imagine the editor mumbling as he or she went through the pages: "Maiku Miao, boh spellchecker, ah?" And the phrase ngai ti ("oh my god") conveys incredibly heartfelt frustration when stretched.

With the rise in comics and graphic novels by local artists telling local or localised stories, Jian's publishing debut is a welcome addition to a growing body of work we'd all love to explore. And it's nice to imagine that he's also doing it as an ambassador of "the other side of Malaysia."

His window into life as a kid in a little corner of East Malaysia also stokes enough curiosity for one to want to fly over (maiku, so many types of kolok mee, lao chui nua liao...).


Once Upon a Miao: Stories from the Other Side of Malaysia is now available at all major bookstores. Follow Jian's further adventures on his blog and Facebook page.

---

Once Upon a Miao

Stories from the Other Side of Malaysia

written, illustrated and published by Jian Goh
189 pages
Non-fiction
ISBN: 978-967-13465-0-1

Crouching Café, Hidden Sar Yung

Over a year ago...

If only you could see my face as I stared down the long line of cars in front of me...

Some days, an experience at a far-flung cafe isn't worth it. Even if I wasn't paying.

But Melody just had to, had to, go. Because an acquaintance had waxed poetic over several things there, and some food bloggers gave it rave reviews.

A recent photo (August 2015) of where Amaze K Café is. Believe me,
without the red food truck and sign, you wouldn't know it's there.

Most importantly, because she'd bought the Groupon promo for both of us.

But it wasn't just the traffic.

Snuggled deep within the industrial zone in Kota Damansara, the new Amaze K Cafe became a hit. I think part of the thrill for the patrons was finding it among the factories, garages and shuttered shoplots and, after eating and lots of photographing, rushing back to regale eagerly waiting audiences about the hidden gem they "unearthed", like treasure hunters that emerged from the jungle after being lost for months.

We found it with a phone call. "Opposite the shop with the Espressolab banner," we were told. I'd passed that banner once.

When we finally arrived at the doorstep of Amaze K, I could see why we missed it the first time. It blends right in.

So what allegedy made the food at Amaze K good was the management; the owner is an acquaintance of Melody's acquaintance, whose palate was more discerning than ours. The Groupon promo, however, limited the choices we could make.

We ended up ordering two set lunches: mine was the Salmon Steak Pasta, while she inexplicably picked the chicken chop with butter sauce and fried rice.

There was nothing spectacular about the experience, even though my pasta was fine. It had some kind of sauce at the bottom of the plate, possibly from the salmon, that made me wish I had a slice of bread to wipe it all off.

Melody didn't like her dish much. I thought the fried rice and the butter sauce lacked flavour - did they skimp on the salt? But the aroma of the sauce was just right, laced with the herbal and citrusy hints of curry leaf.

Halfway through, a whiff of something baked made me look up, just in time to see a pile of what looked like cream puffs on a plate landing atop the table behind us.

"That's the sar yung," Melody piped up. "She (the acquaintance) talked about it too."

Makan kaki Melody's photo of the carb-rich, liver- and diet-nuking
"sand codgers" from over a year ago.

As I understand it, this pastry (called 沙翁 or, literally translated, "sand codgers") is sold in Hong Kong and some parts of China. These balls of deep-fried dough sprinkled with sugar outside contain lots of air in a sparse honeycomb of dough. Some say that it's similar to the Okinawan sata andagi or the Dutch oliebol.

At Amaze K, the sar yung is sold by the half-dozen, which costs RM12, and it's not on the menu - at least, not yet. We just had to try it. That became the only paid item on the bill.

My experience with churros told me that anything deep-fried and saturated in oil and sprinkled with sugar is bound to be a treat. Once you bite down and start chewing, oh g*d. It's. So. Good. The soft dough inside collapses and just melts, and when the sugar and fried crispy dough shell melds into a forming melange in your mouth...

Fatty liver? Who cares?

But by the time I was sated I'd devoured four; Melody shot me that familiar "you unrepentant glutton" look after I'd reach for the last piece that was supposed to be hers.

On the way home, my stomach (and liver, I suspect) eventually got round to protest all that extra goodness I'd downed in a cloud of carb-induced intoxication. Call it my version of jungle fever.

Fatty liver? I CARE.

Thing is, I'm still thinking of diving back into that wilderness.

---

Amaze K Café

23, Jalan PJU 3/44
Sunway Damansara
47810 Petaling Jaya
Selangor

Pork-free

Mon-Sat: 9:30am-9pm

Closed on Sundays

+603-7733 7657

Facebook page

Separation Anxiety

So, an "information blitz" has begun, days (presumably) before 1 September, when many of us are supposed to separate our trash before chucking it out.

I'm all for this. For too long we've been ignoring the fact that, for the convenience of throwing everything out the door in one bag, we've been inconveniencing the folks who have to sort out the mess at wherever our garbage ends up.

And few things feel as empowering - or as hipsterish - as knowing what a difference we make by sorting out our own trash.

I just have a few questions:

• Should we wash the recyclables before throwing them out? Imagine all the cleaning that has to be done for those who live out of styrofoam packs, plus the scrubbing down of plastic bags for your kopi C peng, pickled green chillies and whatnot.
• And have any of you tried washing a bottle used for storing Scott's Emulsion? Your kitchen will smell like fish, and that's putting it mildly. I'm speaking from experience.
• What happens to oil-soaked or sambal-stained cardboard pizza boxes and wrapping paper? Can these still be recycled after waiting for two weeks in the trash before pickup? Can't imagine what would've had a go at the cardboard before the sanitation staff after all that time.
• What about items with mixed components, like glass bottles for supplements? The caps are plastic - should these be removed and disposed of separately? Same goes for milk and fruit juice cartons.
• Leather products: shoes, wallets, belts, Moleskine covers ... where do these go? And what about stone, bricks and heavy ceramics such as old porcelain thrones?
• Shredded CD-ROMs, DVDs, Blu-Rays, credit cards, ATM cards, SIM cards ... how? Do we lump these together with plastics or...?
• Ah, yes ... used tissues. As someone with allergic rhinitis, on some days I churn out a lot of this regularly. My educated guess would put this under "Others", a.k.a. (Possibly) Biohazardous Waste, perhaps? But I guess they could be recyclable if the compunds used to treat the paper are harsh enough...

Also, there had better be a more robust collection and recycling mechanism for old electronics: smartphones, old appliances, discarded computer peripherals and components and so on coming soon. We should also be thinking of wiping that old hard drive, flash disk or SD card before disposal...

...alright, most of the questions above have been answered by this online presentation (which I learnt about before I could post this) by the Ministry of Urban Wellbeing, Housing and Local Government (whose minister is not among Malaysia's favourite people at the moment, but that doesn't make waste separation a bad idea).

I just had to get it out of my system.

Book Marks: A Little Shorter And Less Frequently

Yes, it's been a while since I've does lists like this, but I wanted to be even more selective of what to highlight. Plus, I've been busy sorting out my life, with little progress. Right now, I might be dealing with insomnia.

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GB Gerakbudaya has just announced the release of a collection of essays on what is it like to be young and Malay in Malaysia: "Edited by Ooi Kee Beng and Wan Hamidi Hamid, the collection features nine young writers — Haris Zuan, Zairil Khir Johari, Dyana Sofya Mohd Daud, Altaf Deviyati, Izmil Amri, Syukri Shairi, Raja Ahmad Iskandar, Edry Faizal Eddy Yusof and Wan Hamidi himself — who share their experiences about growing up in Malaysia."

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Borders bookstore manager Nik Raina Nik Aziz's legal nightmare is finally over as the Federal Court dismisses JAWI's latest prosecution bid against her.

This case should never have stretched on for this long. Employees of a bookstore chain cannot be held solely responsible for whatever the company sells, and Nik Raina did nothing more than to earn a living. Can a Muslim employee be charged for selling beer at a 7-Eleven?

One hopes that this is truly the end of this case.

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Some people aren't happy with Kate Breslin's romance novel For Such a Time. "Re-centring the story of the prisoners of Theresienstadt on a tale of Christian conversion and the salvation and redemption of a Nazi commandant who committed genocide reframes and erases history," says one critic, "and forgives the horror of the execution of more than 17 million people in order to advance a larger religious perspective."

Anne Rice has hit out at "internet lynch mobs" attacking controversial books, and this book in particular. After tweeting about this, someone helpfully provided this bit of news where Rice was alleged to have unleashed her followers' wrath on a critic of her own work.

That aside, I'm not certain that romance novels about Jewish concentration camp prisoners and Nazi officers can ever "forgive" the Nazi horrors rubbed into our faces every time they face the threat of being forgotten by whiny social justice types - what are history books for, anyway?

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After her latest book, Furiously Happy, was chosen as a top book US librarians would like to share with readers, Jennifer Lawson, a.k.a. The Bloggess penned a love letter to libraries (especially the librarians). It's a poignant piece, especially with Lawson's background:

When I was little my favorite places were libraries. You weren’t expected to speak, which was heaven for a shy girl with an anxiety disorder. Thousands of small secret stories were hidden in plain sight all around you, just waiting to be held in your hands and discovered. As a small girl in rural Texas, I knew that the best chance I had of seeing worlds that would never be open to me, and meeting fantastic people I’d never be bold enough to speak to was through books. I was able to see places that exist (or that had existed, and or that would never exist) through the words of the storytellers whose worlds had been bound up and shared and protected through generations of docent-guardians who called themselves “librarians”.

...sometimes you’d get lucky and there would be a special librarian there. Of course, all librarians were special when you were little. They were the guards and they were larger than life. They knew the secret codex of books. They were good witches and wizards who kept small keys around their necks, keys to special, sacred artifacts you had to know the secret password to see."

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A case of a curious banning of a book in Florida unfolds as Mark Haddon's novel, The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time was pulled from a school's reading list over swear words.

A local daily, according to The Guardian, even "tallied up the appearances of swear words in the novel: 'the f-word is written 28 times, the s-word 18 times, and the c-word makes one appearance – in Britain that word is less charged than it is in the US,' reported the [Tallahassee Democrat]. 'A few characters also express atheistic beliefs, taking God’s name in vain on nine occasions.'"

Far more F-words and S-words can be found on the Internet. And if one goes through hours of TV programming in the States one might find lots of people "taking G*d's name in vain" on more than nine occasions.

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Britain’s best joke at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival features Germany and a mobile phone. At The Daily Beast, Tom Sykes disagrees.

A Pasta House Called Basil

Long story short: I'd been frazzled by developments in my life and it's been eating into my writing. So I over-edited this, according to an acquaintance who has seen multiple versions of this review until she begged, "No more! Send!"

And out it went, with more typos than my usual.

I received queries from the editor of The Malay Mail Online, probably for the first time in years.

Not my finest hour.

Think the major ones have been fixed.

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A pasta house called Basil

first published in The Malay Mail Online, 17 August 2015


Weeks after I’d discovered the path to al dente pasta, I learnt about a restaurant that serves mostly pasta. I thought, a bit arrogantly, let’s see how it measures up.

It measured up quite well.

Basil looks a little out of place in the row of shophouses but
has remained a popular neighbourhood joint

I dined in the first time, opting to take out another dish along with leftovers from my meal for the benefit of makan kaki Melody. I think it was a spaghetti bolognese to go, with what remained of an Oriental-styled mac and cheese. The chefs separate the sauce from the pasta — a nice touch.

I came back, several times, with Melody, Wendy and Sam in tow on one or two occasions. But the novelty wore off as the prices — and my repertoire of home-cooked pastas — grew. And I’d come to be satisfied with what I cooked myself.

But I do keep Basil Pasta House at the back of my mind, for special occasions.

Lamb Leg and White Ragù Sauce with Elicoidali (a tube-shaped pasta with
a rough texture): Lamb cubes, cream ragù sauce, white wine, button
mushroom, root vegetables and toasted cashews. Probably enough for two.

This little shop looks out of place among the row of nightspots, car washes, boutiques and other Chinese-themed restaurants along Jalan Kuchai Maju 6. Chef Alven Tan and his brothers opened the place, naming it after a favourite herb. The restaurant is a homey place, not at all intimidating.

At a corner done up to look like a living room is a bookshelf, where you’ll find cookbooks from the likes of Thomas Keller (Bouchon), Rene Redzepi (Noma), Joël Robuchon (can’t remember), Gordon Ramsay (various) and Anthony Bourdain (The Les Halles Cookbook, which I can’t seem to find).

Besides the basic aglio olio, bolognese and genovese (pesto) varieties of pasta, expect other far-out creations such as Hand-made Orecchiette (“little ears”) and Smoked Duck Breast; “Wafu”-style capellini with tuna tataki (tuna, seared medium-rare), served with yuzu shoyu dressing and lumpfish caviar, among other things; and Cheese Bucatini with crispy squid (golden egg-yolk sauce, curry leaf and chilli flakes). For some pasta dishes, you can choose from several types of pasta other than the usual spaghetti or fettuccine.

Nope, not your average “Western” pasta place. The chefs work in black chefs’ togs that seem more at home in a Michelin-starred establishment than a Chinese neighbourhood eatery. And it’s pretty good stuff, judging from the packed dining room almost every evening.

Gnocchi and Spicy Bacon Tomato: Potato gnocchi in amatriciana sauce, tomato
concasse, pork pancetta, chilli flakes, Italian parsley and shavings of Parmesan.
Portions look small but surprisingly filling.

The first few months of its opening, according to the hostess, people complained about the portion-price ratio. Bistro-level dining at less than RM25 (for some dishes) and people still kvetch?

So they revamped the menu, upped the portions a bit and, inevitably, raised the prices. One of my favourites, a fettucine with Japanese lamb curry, is no more.

They also renovated the kitchen. Even so, the inadequate ventilation and long waiting times while each dish is made to order (they go by table) mean diners will end up smelling of each other’s meals by the time they walk out the door — satisfied, a little fragrant and, perhaps, planning a return trip.

Generally, it’s worth the wait. If you’re a-horde-of-gremlins-clawing-at-your-gut hungry, however, I suggest you fill your stomach with something. Perhaps an appetiser from the menu — and chew slowly, please. Maybe read a book or two. Smartphone-toting diners might want to surf their menu (available on their Facebook page) and decide before going there in person.

Orecchiette and Smoked Duck Breast, from way back when. Doubt they've
tweaked the recipe much since this picture was taken.

Calling ahead for reservations, especially for a family outing, is also a good idea.

Just about everything my makan kakis and I tried there were good. Great-tasting and interesting flavour combinations. What I wasn’t enthusiastic about was the Oriental-styled mac & cheese. I think it was the slightly brown bits on the crispy squid. Also, the taste of a wild mushroom risotto was on the delicate side.

And I never seem to want to order the desserts. Well, when each meal stuffs you to the gills...

To this day, Basil Pasta House still draws a good crowd; some days you can see people standing around outside, waiting for their turn. So while I don’t think it needs any more publicity, maybe they can work on improving service and cooking time.

Ah yes, and the ventilation, lest diners have to fight the impulse to gnaw on their sleeves on the way home.

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Basil Pasta House

No. 21, Jalan Kuchai Maju 6
Kuchai Entrepreneurs Park
58200 Kuala Lumpur

Non-halal

Wed-Mon: 12pm-2:30pm (last order), 5pm-9:30pm (last order); closes at 10pm

Closed on Tuesdays

+603-7972 8884

Facebook page

What's Wrong With The First Person?

Of all the events during a "festival of ideas" held recently in KL, the only sour note was a panel that talked about, among other things, how to be a better foodie and food reviewer.

I agree that "reviewers" and "food bloggers" who expect to be comped and resort to blackmail when shown the door are the spawn of Satan, and food reviews should be more than just pictures and flowery descriptions - or "wham-bam"-type commentary with multisyllabic adjectives.

But I felt slighted when the panellists described some reviewing methods that sound similar to mine, e.g., no "I", "me", "mine" in the text. At least I try to be entertaining...

And what's wrong with the sharp-edged jottings of certain British reviewers like Jay Rayner? I enjoy Rayner's stuff. As I do Pete Wells's, especially his interrogative piece on Guy's American Kitchen & Bar in Times Square.

William Cheng, a professor at Dartmouth College, has also made the case for more first-person voices in writing - in his case, for his students - in a Slate article:

The goal, of course, isn’t to assure students that it’s all about them—that is, to condone attitudes of entitlement and egotism. The point is for students to recognize that they must listen inward, harnessing a voice from deep down, in order to reach outward and contribute to society at large. Yes, I realize such advice runs the risk of sounding clichéd and sentimental: believe in yourself, the truth lies within, speak from your heart. But I’d rather see students grapple with sentiment than to have them smudge it out altogether.

Because you know what else is a cliché? The notion that good writing stands on its own merits, or that good ideas speak for themselves, or that a good paper can practically write itself. When we empower students to write with I, what we convey is: Stand up for yourself and take responsibility for what you say. Once you’ve found a voice, start thinking of all the people whose voices continue to go unheard. Behind glowing phones and laptop screens, students need to look up and speak out, to collide and connect with one another through exercises in self-expression and self-evaluation.

I posted a short version of this rant on Facebook. One respondent, a journalist with some reputation, says that use of "the first person voice sounds overindulgent but what's for me does not need to be for others. Writers should do whatever makes them happy and bear with whatever the consequence is and whatever viewers and so called experts think."

Yes, we're Asians and yes, we're also Malaysians and maybe, we don't review to criticise. Thing is, we have yet to master the fine art of giving and receiving criticism, from what I've seen on social media. We need to learn how to take it on the chin.

A big part of why we aren't growing up as people of letters is because we're too mindful of what others think, so much so that we can't trust our own opinions and the sum of our knowledge. News of fellow Malaysians being derided or punished for having unpopular opinions don't help.

I don't want to be pressured into being a "better" foodie, food reviewer or writer. Nobody should. And I want to write in a way that's most comfortable for me, for my voice. If one becomes good in the process of writing, it will show.

Ultimately, the audience decides what's good.

Tell you what: I'll do my thing and I-me-mine my way through my own foodie journey. And if I want to, every third word in my future reviews will be drawn from a list that includes gems such as "unctuous", "succulent", "yummy", "aromatic" and "earthy".

Because I can.

Because I want to.

And because, as Professor Cheng said, there's "no voice without I."

For The Love Of It

When I review restaurants, the last thing I expect is to get comped. I only eat what I pay for, so there's a risk that any freebie will go to waste.

But one day, on another visit to this one place, I got a freebie in a paper bag with a note scrawled on it. They'd kept asking me whether I wanted dessert and decided on their own that I did, even when I did not.

I don't expect things like this, either. Running a restaurant, or writing and publishing a book ... it's hard, thankless. With GST, it's even harder - and the folks at this establishment are not passing the buck to their customers - yet.

And there are so, so many restaurants out there, as there are books. So when you spot a good thing, you want to support who made it, and you want it to be there on certain days.

But I'm only one person, one stomach. I'm not the bottomless pit I used to be over a decade ago. Nor do reviews last long enough to be of help these days.

And some of my favourite places have closed down or changed character. So I'm thankful for the ones that are left, whose owners and staff are still going strong and still doing their thing.

I'll be keeping this bag for a while. The contents didn't go to waste and, though empty, the bag will continue to sustain me. As long as there are people out there, banging out the good stuff for our enjoyment and sustenance, I will never run out of words.

The Other Hero(ine)

A certain former prime minister spoke at some "festival of ideas" at Publika one weekend.

But I could barely keep it in when I saw this other person on the first day of the festival. Think I almost squealed.

Nik Raina Nik Abdul Aziz told me she's been manning the Borders stall since the first festival and I couldn't believe it. And I'd been following the case since it broke.

I find her more relatable. Both of us work with books and, I think, feel confident that the right to legally earn our livelihoods is protected by the state.

At least, I think we used to.

To put it simply, Nik Raina was persecuted for selling a book that JAWI, the Federal Territories religious affairs department, has deemed "bad". However, it has had its case against her thrown out several times, due largely to how it was handled.

In spite of this, JAWI is going to appeal this case to the Federal Court, and there's a possibility it might be reopened.

Many are baffled by the dogged pursuit of the Borders bookstore manager by the religious affairs department. Didn't the Syariah High Court already drop her case?

Her plight casts a pall over every Malaysian; no longer can we view the authorities as protective parental figures. We are frightened to speak up or do something - anything. We are cowed into meekness, forced to blindly obey. To follow our hearts or believe what our gut says is right can be considered treasonous.

This is no way to live.

Which is why Nik Raina and Borders Malaysia's decision to take on JAWI over the former's case gives us hope.


26/08/2015   So it seems Nik Raina's legal nightmare is finally over as the Federal Court dismissed JAWI's latest prosecution bid against her. Kudos to Borders Malaysia for sticking with her to the end of this case.