Murky Clarity

Book Review: A Little Life, by Hanya Yanagihara

 

My friend Abu Sufian recommended me A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara for the feels. He got me at ‘feels’.

When I hefted the book – yes, hefted – I was daunted by the size of the tome. Also, there was the issue of it being over 700 pages long. I generally stay away from adult literary fiction and concentrate on YA fiction instead, but, you know, I was craving for the feels.

A Little Life started off slow, and the book and I had plenty of false starts. I estimated that it would take a month (or more) to finish reading it.

Then something changed.

The people in the book came to life. Jude and Willem and Malcolm and JB and the people around them came to life. Jude and Willem became so compelling that the book became unputdownable. It’s been almost a month since I finished reading A Little Life (took me 1 week instead of 4), but I still think of them, Jude and Willem. Most of all, Jude.

Miss Yanagihara has a way with words. None of them, not one in the over 700 pages of words, has been squandered. The emotional punches kept getting harder and harder, I was battered by the time I reached the last sentence. The four main characters each have their personalities, strengths and flaws. And I’ll be upfront that I don’t like JB all that much, but I love the paintings he makes of Jude and Willem.

Yes, I know there are no actual paintings. The author’s THAT good.

I love how deliberate she is with her points of views. Even though she uses third person perspective (except when Harold narrates, and that’s in first person), the characteristics of that particular perspective shine through. When the story is told in Willem’s, Malcolm’s and JB’s perspectives, their personalities, their individualities, are apparent. When it is told in Jude’s perspective, though, it’s like he tries to make his own existence as small as possible. He doesn’t even use his name, and we only know it’s his perspective because other characters use his name in dialogs. Even then, it’s kept to a bare minimum.

A Little Life is a thoroughly beautiful and tragic story. However.

I have qualms. Yes, it is obvious that Jude’s life is a series of tragedy, and even though I keep yearning to hug him and tell him everything will be all right (he’ll just cower away and not let me touch him, but still), the tragedies keep piling up that by ¾ of the book, it felt like these tragedies are put there more to affect the readers than to make Jude who he is. It becomes melodramatic the deeper the story gets; I won’t hesitate to say that my suspension of disbelief wavered more than once.

The other thing is that even though this book spans over thirty years, the characters don’t really grow older. Age becomes nothing but numbers. Age advances the story, yes, but the people in the book stay essentially the same. The only thing that progresses is Jude’s spine problem and its complications. Yes, Andy has children and they grow up, but only in passing. Physical changes, maturity, death…these are not present. It’s as if all the people around Jude hang on and resist change just to provide a constant for him. But resist change for over 30 years?

Other than the issues mentioned above, I’ll say, “Wow. This book is bloody brilliant. If only I have half Hanya Yanagihara’s skills.”

I give this book 4 out of 5 stars. I highly recommend it for the feels.

And Jude, wherever you are, I’m sorry for everything that has happened to you. May fate treat you much kinder in your next life.

Book Review: Hungry in Ipoh, edited by Hadi M Nor

 

One word: WOW (caps lock intended for added emphasis). As with all storybooks, I opened Hungry in Ipoh hoping to fall in love, and I have fallen head over heels with this book. From the cover to the contents. Just. Wow.

Hadi M Nor, editor of this book, opens the volume in a simple, unpretentious manner. I believe that he did this because he knew he didn’t need to oversell the book, that it would speak for itself.

And so it did.

For those of you who haven’t bought—and read—this book, I urge you to do so. The editor has curated a mighty fine anthology. A mighty fine one.

 

“No Kick” by Terence Toh

A strong opener, with a very Malaysian flavor without alienating Anglophone readers. A fun read, except at the end where it becomes a dissertation on biology, which takes away the reading experience.

 

“Ipoh Girls^TM” by Cassandra Khaw

Well written and sophisticated, but monotonous.

 

“Mastura’s Air Lengkong Adventure” by Ted Mahsun

Wow. Not a hint of the author’s signature whimsical, satirical voice. For a story written in first person, this is a good thing. An engaging read with a plausible twist ending. It’s a shame about the persistent tense confusion, though. At first I thought it was a typo, but this wasn’t the case. It’s like the author originally wrote the story in past tense, then decided to change it to present tense, but forgot to address a significant number of the changes.

 

“Beloved” by Atikah Abdul Wahid

This story puts a smile on my face. It is sweet, just like the desserts it talks about. As someone who bakes pavlova, I can totally visualize the opening scene. Excellent character arc, cleanly written at a leisurely pace, this is one pretty story. I can’t wait to read more from the author.

 

“Joget Girl” by Marc de Faoite

I love this piece. It reminds me of P Ramlee-era movies and has this jazzy New Orleans vibe to it. It doesn’t describe Ipoh as a setting, but the languid pacing, the entire atmosphere of the story…they are unmistakably Ipoh—for me, at least. The author has delivered yet another solid story, but it also feels different. More mature. Classier.

 

“Night in a Garden in Ipoh” by William Tham Wai Liang

This story. Wow. This story is steeped in Ipoh like a strong cup of tea in a porcelain cup. The descriptions of the settings, the descriptions of the people, the breath of the story itself, they transport me back to the city. Wow. Take this description for instance: “…old men in singlets and Pagoda shorts who stirred their nostalgic coffee…” Such a beautiful, evocative description. I especially love “nostalgic coffee”. A beautiful read. Reminds me of Eeleen Lee’s style of writing.

 

“The Art of Food Plating” by Eileen Lian

Oh, man. I feel sorry for this story for coming after "Night in a Garden in Ipoh". It feels all over the place, trying too hard, cramming my head like a cheerleader experimenting with mood-altering substances.

 

“The Ipoh Food Court” by Wong Hon Kit

I feel sorry for the narrator, who is haunted by the ghost of his perfectionist mother (not literally). Otherwise a forgettable story.

 

“The Ultimate Indulgence” by Tina Issacs

Another speculative fiction in this volume after “Ipoh Girls^TM”, this one an urban fantasy. Did he gain invincibility or invisibility? If he were invincible, why did he end up hiding in caves? He was talking about invisibility up to that point. The writing is solid and engaging, and the narrative voice is quirky, but the story feels too…generic. Here we have the Raja Bersiong, but the narrator could have been any (non-glittering) vampire. I don’t know. I just feel that the unique viewpoint of our peninsula’s vampire sultan could have been explored (and exploited) more. A bit frustrating, this.

 

“More than Enough” by Leroy Luar

Oh my. I am officially Leroy Luar’s fan. He has done it again. Another brilliant masterpiece of a short story. I lived the experience of an old woman coping with the death of her husband. The lyrical prose, the sense of love that transcends death, the beauty of companionship and family…oh my. More. I hunger for more stories from this author.

 

“An Epi-Curious Affair” by Julya Oui

To appreciate this story, do not read it immediately after finishing other stories in this volume. It has to be read in its own sitting. At first it felt overwhelming, but then I was able to see it cinematically: the (loud) family sitting at a round dinner table, and the camera panned in a circle as they talked and interrupted one another and laughed. I love the family dynamics and how this story actually centers around food. One of the rare stories I’ve come across where the heavy Manglish feels natural, and not used for the ‘Malaysian’ effect. This is definitely a good read.

 

“Mother’s Manifesto” by Angeline Woon

In this story, the house—the mansion—itself is a character. Very well done, at that. The story shows the antagonistic relationship between a new mother and her own mother, and her silent resentment toward her mother, toward her son. This one is a powerful tale.

 

“Finding the Way Home” by Benjamin Tham

A story set during Hungry Ghost! Finally! I had been waiting for such a story the entire volume. It’s a pretty little story, with the ending obvious several paragraphs into the story.

 

“Funny Mountain” by Ivy Ngeow

It was bound to happen. I was hoping against hope that in this volume there wouldn’t be a typical “Malaysian story” that meanders like a taxi taking a foreign tourist from KLIA to the hotel, with its mini-guided tour, which does nothing but take that person from point A to point B. Except there’s no point. No change. No arc. At all. And then I read this. At least this story offers a tour of Ipoh and its foods.

 

“Pau Babi” by Tilon Sagulu

Oh man, I feel for Mei-Ling. The story is about a mualaf (someone who reverts to Islam) who craves for char siu bao (steamed pork buns). But it goes much deeper than that. Denying herself that simple childhood pleasure is denying her very identity, a choice she made out of love. When love suppresses one’s identity, it smothers. A solid story to close this volume.

 

Hungry in Ipoh should be a mandatory read in secondary schools. It’s that good. Of course, there is this issue about not enough racial distribution in the volume (read: not diversity. Racial distribution), and that one transgender character. Definitely not kosher for our Ministry of Education. No sir.

What a loss. Bummer.

So parents should make this book a mandatory read for their secondary school children. Perak/Ipoh tourism should have this book on the counters for tourists to buy. Yes. It’s that good.

Come to think of it, there’s not a single story that’s about political/social commentary, and this is rare for a Malaysian anthology. I applaud Hadi M Nor and Fixi Novo for curating Hungry in Ipoh. Not only has he showcased an entire book of amazing short stories, he has perfectly captured the laid-back atmosphere of Ipoh in the stories he picked. Such a wonderful job.

I give this book a 4.5 stars, rounded up to 5.

What’s more important is that this book shows how Malaysian-English literature is blossoming.

And I’m loving its sweet scent.

Book Review: Cyberpunk: Malaysia

 

Like many other Malaysian Science Fiction fans, I was excited by the very thought of this anthology, which is the first--to my knowledge--Malaysian English Science Fiction anthology.

I love the cover: plain foil that doubles as a murky mirror. Perhaps it's a nod to Mirrorshades, a Cyberpunk anthology published in 1986. The digital edition covers are pretty, too.

Sadly, that's about the only positive thing I can say about this anthology, other than a few amazing stories that I'll mention in a bit. Most of the stories aren't even Science Fiction, much less Cyberpunk. They're merely General Fiction with robots and plasma guns thrown in so that they can pass off as SF. As a genre writer, this pisses me off. How can we expect Malaysian SF to be taken seriously?

Well, on with my review of each story in the anthology.

 

Underneath Her Tudung

At its essence, this is a story about a young woman who is accepting her new existence as a cyborg. However, the storytelling is an absolute mess. It’s a Manglish fest, but the mangled English felt…forced, as if used for its effect. The story meanders and doesn’t have any focus at all. I’m not sure if using this story as the opening piece is a good idea. It definitely sets the book as Malaysian, though, both for its terrible Manglish, and for its unfocused storytelling.

 

Codes

It’s a story about a girl using a fake identity to bypass the restrictions set on Muslims. That ends in something completely off tangent and didactic. Another typical Malaysian storytelling, and forgettable.

 

Personal

I’m frustrated with this one. The writing is good and engaging, but the story doesn’t go anywhere. It’s about a woman’s fear of Personal Device theft—in other words, one’s entire digital signature is stolen. While the story goes on and on about that fear, as well as world building, it feels as though the real story is in the rushed and summarized ending scene.

 

Attack of the Spambots

A case of abused exclamation marks and misplaced colons. But. I can definitely see this one as an over-acted B-grade movie in SyFy, and it's a good thing. Sort of. The ending could have been expanded more, but overall, it’s a fun read—provided one doesn’t overanalyze things.

 

One Hundred Years: Machine

The first piece in this anthology that actually reads like Science Fiction. The way it’s told, written as a dissertation abstract, is also interesting and well-chosen. While most Cyberpunk stories are told from an underdog’s perspective, this one is told from the Man’s view. I like this one.

 

What the Andromaid Reads at Night

This story is told in a detached third person narration in line with the tradition of fables and folktales. It’s an example of plot-driven stories where characterization is secondary. It’s good that the writer doesn’t employ the Pinocchio trope. The andromaid doesn’t pretend to be human; it’s a robot discovering the wonders of Islam in a radically secular nation. It is, however, reminiscent of Chappie, especially with the identity/memory transfer.

 

Kakak

Take an Indonesian maid’s dilemma in newspapers and dramas, and you’ll get exactly the same story. This is nowhere near Science Fiction, much less Cyberpunk. I don’t know what this story is doing in this anthology.

 

The Wall that wasn’t a Wall

No robots or wearable/personalized technology in this piece, which is a breath of fresh air. Set in a dystopian future where some people are no better off than animals, it’s a decent read. However, the world building falls flat.

 

The Twins

THIS SHOULD HAVE BEEEN THE OPENING PIECE! Robots possessed by spirits? Yes! Tasteful garnishing of Manglish? Yes! Amazing storytelling? Yes! I love this story. If there is only one story I can recommend out of this anthology, “The Twins” is it. I look forward to reading more from the author.

 

October 11

I got bored reading this. The story is incomplete; it feels as though there should be a continuation after the reveal at the end of the story for it to have a complete arc.

 

Undercover in Tanah Firdaus

Almost two pages of backstory, which sets the world to something like Final Fantasy VII with its platform-city where the privileged enjoy luxuries and sunlight, while the undercity (slums) is in perpetual shadow. The story starts off slow, with plenty of acronyms and expositions and clunky world building, but it picks up when Inspector Moktar submits his holographic reports. I love this different format of storytelling, and how instead of the usual slum-is-bad-and-the-upper-society-needs-to-be-overtaken trope (think Elysium and In Time), this story shows the opposite. Despite the exposition at the beginning, this is a good and solid piece, one that doesn’t deserve to be buried in the middle of the anthology.

 

Unusual Suspects

Finally, a story in this anthology that reads like actual Science Fiction with a hard SF bent! I enjoyed the story…until the final scene, with its forced Manglish, because that’s how Malays talk, apparently, as opposed to the Caucasian protagonist. Ruined my reading experience. Gah!

 

The White Mask

The author has delivered another brilliant story. Take smart paint and graffiti artists who are anti-establishment, and we get an awesome Cyberpunk story right here. No robots are needed. I love how the story is told in fragmented streams of consciousness. Another solid piece.

 

Extracts From DMZine #13 (January 2115)

I feel like this “story” is smarter than I am. Interesting choice of formatting, but the articles appear disjointed & so unrelated that I think I’m missing something here. Worth a reread later.

 

What I do notice in this anthology is that...I didn't detect any glaring typos. It is, however, severely underwhelming, and a disappointing read for an SFF fan. It's especially disappointing when Manglish is used for effect instead of effective communication, and good stories are buried in the middle of the anthology, in danger of not being read should people stop reading after the first few stories. Then again, these are my personal thoughts, and I do hope that others will love the entire book.

After all, I do fervently hope that this will be the first Malaysian-English SF anthology, and not the only one.

Book Review: "These Gentle Wounds" by Helene Dunbar

 

That feeling when your instinct urges you to buy a random book that you come across, and you end up falling in love...it's indescribable.

As usual, I was at Kinokuniya, looking for the final installment of the KL Noir series. Out of habit, I browsed the Young Adult section, and I came across this book. These Gentle Wounds. How can you not fall in love with the title alone? Perfect, perfect title for a brilliantly written book.

These Gentle Wounds (I can never grow tired writing and saying the book title) is a debut novel by Helene Dunbar, and I'll say right from the start, she's one to look out for. The book starts like this:

 

ONE

 

The last thing I saw before the car hit the water was an eagle pasted against the sky.

And what I remember is this: his tapered wings filled the width of the dirty window; the air held him up with the promise of magic; he looked free.

I used to dream about that bird.

But I don't have dreams anymore.

All I have are memories.

 

Bam! If the title is not enough to pull you in, the opening passages will do the work. The novel centers around Gordie "Ice" Allen, a fifteen-year-old boy who survived after his mother drove her car into a river five years back, with him and his three younger siblings in it. All he has left is his older half-brother Kevin who shared the same mother. His abusive father disappeared after the funeral, and now all Gordie wants is a semblance of normalcy.

But what is normal when you have to live with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) that looms over you every single day for the past five years? This is the basis for the story arc in These Gentle Wounds.

Far off in the distance, a yellow balloon rises in the sky. Some kid must have let go of it. I wish so badly I could catch the string in my hand and let it pull me away.

It's words like these that pull you in deeper. There's an understated brilliance in Ms Dunbar's writing. The words do not distract you by their beauty, but lends to the broken beauty that is Gordie. The words are not big, but they ring true. They make Gordie and his brother Kevin into flesh and bones, and you can't help but feel the urge to hug them close and tell them that everything's going to be okay, because they need to know that.

Because you need them to know that.

Because you need to know that.

Before the event that forever altered his life, Gordie's father wanted him to be a hockey star. Now that his father is out of the picture, ice hockey becomes his salvation. That is, until his father enters the picture and wants him back. Just when he's finally doing okay, with a potential love interest in the new girl Sarah Miller, his life starts to spin out of control again.

Kevin, equally broken, has always been Gordie's anchor, his strength. When Sarah enters the equation, he feels as though his role as the guardian is being replaced, and he lashes out. The darker side of him surfaces, but his character is so compelling that you feel for him.

Sarah, despite her being a troubled child, always in the shadows of her elder brother, and everything a rebellious teenager is, becomes perfection in comparison. I love how Ms Dunbar doesn' make her that unobtainable queen bee. I love how she is a just a regular girl who knows what she wants. And the romance between Sarah and Gordie is tentative, just hinted at. I love this.

The one criticism that I have is about Jordan who, when compared to the main characters, isn't fully fleshed out, becomes a plot device. For someone who plays a pivotal role in motivating Gordie's actions, he is sorely underdeveloped and underplayed.

In an umbrella-genre that's inundated with selfish, insecure teenagers whose only thoughts are how to make a guy/girl fall in love with them, a novel about a boy dealing with PTSD is a much-needed breath of fresh air.

May These Gentle Wounds help kids who need to know that they deserve to be loved, that they deserve to live.

May Ms Dunbar keep producing more important works like this.

Book Review: Isla and the Happily Ever After

Author Stephanie Perkins made her name with the first book of this series, Anna and the French Kiss. And it's a goooood book. When I went to Paris, I wanted to experience the Paris Anna and Etienne St. Clair did in their grand teenage romance.

When I bought the third book, Isla and the Happily Ever After--in hardcover--I bought the book based on the faith that the author would deliver.

Yeah, that didn't happen.

Isla (not Is-la, but Ai-la, like island minus the nd sound) is a senior at an American school in Paris, the kind of place where privileged children attend because schools back in the States are for commoners, y'all. She's had a crush with this lonely, troubled Senator's son, Josh, since forever (beginning of high school, but you know how alike teenage years and dog years are) but he's only recently back in the market. Turns out, he's had a crush on her like forever too, but he's always thought Isla and her best friend Kurt are an item.

Teenagers.

So, girl meets boy, boy meets girl, they fall in love, they go to Barcelona to have teenage sex, they get into trouble, things happen, and girl thinks boy doesn't love her as much as she loves him so she takes the preemptive strike and dumps him, and then she pines for her happily ever after.

There.  An entire book in a paragraph sentence.

Oops. Spoiler alert.

Of course, Ms Perkins is a talented enough writer to keep me engaged with good characterization and writing, but there is. No. Plot. Whatsoever. As I read on, annoyed by Isla's self-absorbed insecurities, I kept asking myself, "What's the freaking point?"

Because life, as messy and twisted as it can be, needs to have a point. Our lives need to have a point or nothing matters. Even if your life, my life, doesn't have a direction, we need for it to matter. That's why we tell stories in the first place. We want to make sense of everything around us.

Wait. I hear you telling me that the summary above is teenage life in a sentence. That's the point in this book, that it highlights teenage romance. So I'll reply, "Romeo and Juliet is teenage romance. But it also has a point, a point that makes the story everlasting: love triumphs. Love transcends generations-old enmity, love transcends death."

This book, however, is just about a petite but pretty girl who's also the top of her class, who acts anything but. To use the author's own words, Josh, who's the object of Isla's affection and obsession, is merely a placeholder. He becomes her universe and she becomes consumed by it, but at the same time it's never about him, but about how she is a blank canvas that's desperate to be painted upon.

Kinda like Twilight, but at least Twilight has a point.

Mothers who champion women empowerment, mothers who wholeheartedly approve of Frozen, they'll want to reconsider before buying this book for their children (daughters and sons alike).

Sure. There are cameos by characters from the first two books. Sure, there's a surprise ending for those cameo characters that's just awesome (and begs to be told in detail), and sure, the saving grace in this book is its ending, which is just adorable, which means you'll have to bear with the book to get to that excellent part, but come on.

What's the point?

Also, there is no sense of place. Places are named, some descriptions are thrown in, but there is absolutely no sense of place. Not like the first book.

2/5 stars for me. The writing is good. Above average, in fact, but for an author who brought Anna and Etienne to life, this one's a major disappointment. It feels like a sellout, something produced to fulfil a contract. Not a project of love.

Book Review: In Perfect Light by Benjamin Alire Saenz

I fell in love with Benjamin Alire Saenz's writing when I was reading Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe. Not after. During. What I did after was look for more books from Mr Saenz. Unfortunately, Kinokuniya only carried another title, Last Night I Sang to the Monster. I had to buy other books through Amazon.com.

I love technology.

In Perfect Light arrived a little worse for wear, with dented and creased edges, brownish discoloration of the pages, and a black marker mark at the bottom. It's the first paperback edition, printed in 2008 (the hardcover was first published in 2005). I've had it for a couple of years now, I think, but only came around to reading it last Sunday. And I finished it in one night.

I love the book.

Specifically, I love the story. Mr Saenz is a brilliant storyteller. Having read several novels and a book of poem of his, I appreciate the recurring themes he employs in his writing. He conveys the harsh beauty of the desert and El Paso, Texas. He brings to light perspectives and characters that are inherently Mexican, the pain of life as harsh as the desert. The pain that only he can tell, the way he tells it.

In Perfect Light tells the story of twenty-six-year-old Andres Segovia who, because of his past (which unravels as the book progresses), has lost his drive to live. He's not suicidal, but living for him means getting through the day, pushing everyone away. The book also tells the stories of three main supporting characters, Dave Duncan, who is Andres's lawyer and guardian angel, Grace Delgado, a therapist who has helped Dave before, and now is recruited to help Andres, and Mister Delgado, Grace's son who, despite not having any direct contact with Andres, plays a pivotal role in helping the story reach its end.

In Perfect Light is, despite its name, far from perfect. There are short chapters, interludes, that are told in the present tense, that show a glimpse of all four main characters at that very same moment. These interludes take getting used to, and they distract readers (well, me at least) from the story. There are parts where we jump into one character's head for a short dialog-paragraph when the section is told in another's perspective. There are long-winded sentences that have no punctuation marks. There are conversations in Mexican that are not translated into English and at times can alienate readers who do not understand the language. The prose itself, when compared to the elegance that is Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe, feels clumsy. The beat, the lyrical arrangement, the signature storytelling are all there, but less refined. Perhaps the reason is that In Perfect Light was written years before Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe. Perhaps this book was written this way for an adult audience, and the other was made more minimalist for its target young adult audience. The magic that Mr Saenz offers in his works is still there, just not as brilliant as I expect of him.

That said, the story itself makes up for more than the clunky prose. There is pain in this book, pain that transcends written words, transcends fiction. Andres's pain, his past and his present, it feels real. It is real. Andres is not a character out of a book, but a young man who has been through so much hurt, it's a miracle he's still a whole person. Andres's character and past are similar to Zach's in Last Night I Sang to the Monster, and  like other main characters in Mr Saenz's other books, has an affinity toward poetry and the beauty of the desert. Despite his harsh upbringing, Andres has an unquenchable thirst for books and learning, and this thirst makes him stand out, and saves his life.

All four main characters in this book are fully fleshed out, and feel absolutely real, but it is Andres that pulls us in. It is his past that brings us to tears, and it is his pain that makes us want to reach out to him. Even though it has been several days since I finished reading the book, I still think about Andres. I want to buy him lunch and just hang out with him. I want to show him that I'm there for him, whenever he's ready to reach out to others. I want to sit beside him as he leans back against the wall, a lit cigarette in one hand, and a crumpled piece of paper with a poem he's written in the other. I want to hug him and tell him that everything will be all right. I don't know if anything will be, but I want to tell him that.

I wish I were half as good a writer as Mr Saenz is. I wish I can have that effect on others, that they want to hang out with the characters in my stories, that they want to hug them and tell them that everything will be all right.

For me, this book is not about the technique or the poetry in the prose or the storytelling. I can talk about the plot, but I want you to experience it yourself. This book is about evoking a raw urge to protect children from the ugliness in the world, and if that is too late, help them see the beauty the world still has to offer. It's about realizing the depth of a person's resilience, and the strength of one's spirit.

It's about Andres Segovia, who, despite being a fictional character, feels so real that I hope one day he'll read this, and know that there is still beauty in the world. There are still things that can be seen in perfect light.

To all the Andres Segovias out there, I don't know how, I don't know when, but things will be all right.

Never lose hope.

Book Review: Tropical Madness by Marc de Faoite

Like I do with all storybooks, I approached Tropical Madness with open arms, ready to love it. Besides, I've read Mr de Faoite's stories in other anthologies, and while I notice a certain lack of sense of place, which I will elaborate in a bit, I like his writing. There's an elegance to his prose.

I'll be honest. A gwailo writing about local characters and Asian immigrants? It spells disaster as much as...say...an author who's never been out of Kerala writing a novel about high-society gwailos living it large in New York. I'm not saying it's impossible, especially with Google and Gossip Girl, but it won't feel organic, in part because the author draws on stereotypes. Somehow, however, de Faoite managed to pull it off. There are annoying tics that I'll talk about later, but once I got that de Faoite's writing is not much about the characters as it is about social observations--his social observations, to be exact--I was cool with the book.

However. Maybe my expectation was too high, but I did not get the same feeling I got from his single short stories when I read this book. Mr de Faoite seemed to have overreached too far, bordering on purple prose. He used too many adjectives and adverbs, and his attempts at literary prose were so clumsy that I had to muck through his writing and lost sight of the story. The only stories where the writing didn't get in the way were the Facebook updates, "Where is Ah Girl" and "Ah Girl is in a Relationship". Granted, both stories employ Manglish with all its horrendous grammatical errors, but this is where the writing doesn't stumble as it attempts to do literary acrobatics.

Speaking of, I mentioned before that de Faoite's stories are not about the characters, but about his social observations. "Sang Kancil" is about a Malay husband from an arranged marriage being forced to hunt for a mouse-deer to satisfy his wife's pregnancy-induced cravings. "Under the Shade of the Tamarind Tree" is about the futile attempt of a Hindu community to save their temple, and at the same time touches on the religious double standards in Malaysia. Oh, by the way, the call for Subuh/Fajr prayer doesn't come at sunrise. That's when the prayer time ends. "Siti Fatimah and the Bomoh's Curse" is how a bomoh's curse creates a "Final Destination" effect. No real story line. Just deaths.

Anything that went wrong in the stories, a bomoh, a Malay witchdoctor, was to be blamed. It didn't matter that the story was about a Chinese family ("My Good-Looking Bad-Luck Husband") or an estate Indian community ("The Rubber Tapper's Mangle"). And all the stories in this anthology, except for one ("Milking Pen") uses Kay El for Kuala Lumpur. Local people and Nepalese immigrants do not use the gwailo enunciation of KL. Kampung Malays use Kay El, estate Indians use Kay El, Sitiawan Chinese use Kay El. For the sake of authenticity, the author should have considered Kolumpo, Kuala Lumpur, or simply KL depending on the setting. Not the gwailo Kay El for everything. Maybe it was a stylistic decision, but it still annoyed me.

Another recurring problem with de Faoite's writing is the lack of sense of place. He mentioned Taman Ayer Jingga a lot, and it's a good way to tie the stories together, but Taman Ayer Jingga remained only a name throughout his stories. There are no descriptions of setting, no stage as a backdrop, that the stories are disembodied works that could have happened anywhere, be it Malaysia, Singapore, Indonesia, or Guatemala. The author didn't make full use of the senses to tie down his stories to make them more believable.

He also got lazy toward the middle of the book.

When you sign up for a guided jungle-trail tour, your experience depends on the weather, which is out of the guide's control (ie readers' preference), and the trail the guide uses, be them scenic or bland, as well as the guide's skill in making the trip entertaining and/or educational. Both are within the guide's control (ie an author's skill). If the guide is skilled enough, you get lost in the beauty of the trail, and not the guide's presence. Now, imagine the guide stopping in the middle of a trail and announces, "I'm stopping here. Make your own path. Find your own way out." How does that make you feel? "The Uncles", "All I Want to Do is Play Football", "2064", "Night Fishing", "Trapped in Traffic" and "Milking Pen" are incomplete stories, simply vignettes that have no conclusions or endings. 1/3 of the book. That's quite substantial.

There is one saving grace, however. "The Rubber Tapper's Mangle". It's beautifully written without creating a distraction, and the story itself came to life. There's an honesty in the prose. Honesty and beauty. I'm surprised this story wasn't made the opener for the anthology.

Having read other Fixi Novo books, the writing in this single-author anthology is good in comparison. It would have been much better had de Faoite polished his other stories to a shine that's at least half as bright as "The Rubber Tapper's Mangle". For a native English speaker, I would have expected a richer vocabulary instead of resorting to adverbs. And adverbs. And more adverbs. Why not use "slower" instead of "more slowly"? Why not use "grinned" instead of "smiled broadly"?

I give this anthology 3.5/5 stars, rounded down. It's definitely above average, but not even the beauty of "The Rubber Tapper's Mangle" can elevate the book to a higher rating.

Book Review: Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe

It is the beginning of summer in 1987 and Aristotle Mendoza--Ari, as he calls himself--is a jaded, disillusioned 15-year-old who lives in the shadow of a much older brother who's not even there, who's not even spoken of by his parents. Ari only knows his brother is in prison for something he did when he was Ari's age.

Then he meets Dante Quintana, the boy who teaches Ari how to swim.

Dante is everything Ari is not. He is fair-skinned, much too American to be a Mexican-American in El Paso, outspoken, loves as openly as he is loved, and above all, hates wearing shoes. He loves to read. He loves poetry. He especially loves works by William Carlos Williams. He adores his parents, and they are fierce when it comes to loving and protecting him.

When I woke, Dante was gone.

He hadn't left any of the sketches that he'd done of me. But he did leave a sketch of my rocking chair. It was perfect. A rocking chair against the bare walls of my room. He'd captured the afternoon light streaming into the room, the way the shadows fell on the chair and gave it depth and made it appear as if it was something more than an intimate object. There was something sad and solitary about the sketch and I wondered if that's the way he saw the world or if that's the way he saw my world.

I stared at the sketch for a long time. It scared me. Because there was something true about it.

Ari, on the other hand, loves being alone. He has this anger inside him, and he's constantly afraid that he'll end up like his brother. He longs to connect with his war-haunted father, but at the same time is frustrated by how distant, how disconnected his father is. His mother is the only one who gets him, but he has a sinking feeling she is afraid he will end up like his brother, too.

And then there was this whole thing with my name. Angel Aristotle Mendoza. I hated the name Angel and I'd never let anybody call me that. Every guy I knew who was named Angel was a real asshole. I didn't care for Aristotle either. And even though I knew I was named after my grandfather, I also knew I had inherited the name of the world's most famous philosopher. I hated that. Everyone expected something from me. Something I just couldn't give.

So I renamed myself Ari.

If I switched the letter, my name was Air.

I thought it might be a great thing to be the air.

I could be something and nothing at the same time. I could be necessary and also invisible. Everyone would need me and no one would be able to see me.

In the span of two summers, the boys grow. They grow apart, yet at the same time they grow ever closer. Dante is the only one who gets Ari, even though he knows he may never get Ari. Because Ari doesn't even get himself. He is desperate to get to know his father, to get to know his brother, that he doesn't realize that the person he is searching for is himself.

My father was still there, sitting on my rocking chair.

We studied each other for a moment as I lay in bed.

"You were looking for me," he said.

I looked at him.

"In your dream. You were looking for me."

"I'm always looking for you," I whispered.

I picked this book up at random almost a year ago when I browsed the Young Adult shelves at Kinokuniya. Something about the cover grabbed my attention. In a sense, books are still judged by their covers regardless what people may say. I seldom look for books based on reviews or recommendations. Sometimes I hit rocks and sometimes I hit gold. With this book, however, I hit the mother lode. The Arkenstone, if we want to get all geeky about it.

For that almost-one-year, I've bought the hardcover, four copies of the ebook (1 for myself & 3 for my friends), and an unabridged audiobook. I've read the hardcover three times, read the ebook twice, and listened to the audiobook twice. I've also written to the author to personally thank him for sharing the book with the world, and he's written back.

It's that beautiful.

Benjamin Alire Saenz has a way with words. Since I read Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe, I bought other books he's published. 1 I bought at Kinokuniya, the rest I had to order online from Amazon. They are all beautifully written, but this book is his best to date. The prose is lyrical, but it is also an effortless read. You don't sense the author's voice. You only hear Ari. And you feel for him. And you want to hug him and tell him that everything will be all right.

Because Ari lives. Dante lives. Their parents live. You want to get to know them more. You want to have dinner with them. You want to protect the boys from the harsh world while they discover the secrets of the universe and change the world with that discovery.

I read novels for pleasure, but with this book.... I want to achieve even half of what Mr Saenz has achieved with his prose. Reading this makes me want to be a better writer. It makes me look out for other books as beautiful as it is, because if one person is able to write something this brilliant, then perhaps there are similar writers, similar books out there.

Forget your aversion toward two boys loving each other. Forget your bigotry, forget your prejudice. Get lost in this book, and fall in love with the boys.

And maybe one day the world will be a beautiful, wonderful place for all children who play by different rules.

Book Review: Love in Penang (Fadz Johanabas's Style)

A friend of mine called me out after reading my review of Love in Penang. She said I was being suspiciously vague. Apparently I'm known for being bold & direct (her words), and my review stank of my chickening out.

My first instinct, of course, was to get defensive. After all, I have a story in the anthology, and saying outright which stories suck would be counter-productive. And using "bleugh" is part of my voice, just as I like using "pfft" and fragmented sentences and single word and/or sentence paragraphs. However, one word she said kept ringing in my head as I stood in the shower contemplating a proper reply:

Credibility.

Initially I kept telling myself that no one reads my blog and reviews, anyway, and the only reason I went against my stand to not review local English books again was that I was inspired to share the beauty that is Leroy Luar's "Happiness" with the world. Well that was a long sentence. Anyway, as hot rain-shower eased the tension off my shoulders, I thought about my previous reviews and about how right my friend was. If I was going to review the book, then the least I could do was to commit to my truth, my style, my voice. So here it is, the unadulterated review of the stories that make up Love in Penang.

"Double-Blind" by Zen Cho is about misguided assumptions from gender stereotyping. The use of Manglish is quaint, if somewhat niched, and the story line is quite standard. Read enough QUILTBAG-themed stories and you'll notice certain tropes: us against the world; finding the courage to come out; the queer pining for the straight; discovering and accepting one's own sexuality; mistaken orientation and/or gender assumption; out and proud and looking for love. I may have left a few. Zen's story employs one of the tropes. I like the little well-placed twist at the ending (definitely not a trick ending, which is a major plus), but I don't see the need for the first scene. The story would have been stronger if she had started from the second scene. As for the Manglish, though I don't personally prefer it, I do believe that the author pulled it off quite well.

"Amah's Bicycle" by Julya Oui is a quiet little story about a teenager who takes out her boredom & angst against a rickety old bicycle that has become a permanent fixture outside her grandmother's house, which prompts the grandmother to talk about the past, thus giving the girl a new perspective in her surroundings. It's an anecdotal story, where the scenes move not in front of the reader's eyes, but through the grandmother's storytelling. This means there is no sense of immediacy, but the story is beautifully written nonetheless. The narrator is transformed at the end of the story, so it's a definite plus.

"Happiness" by Leroy Luar is beautiful, pure and simple. As I mentioned before, the prose touches the literary. The story isn't about the narrator, but about his best friend Rachel who's always been haunted by her mother's abandonment when she was four. There is a certain subtlety that you don't realize the change until the story is over and you think about it and then it hits you. To me this should have been the opening story. I am now on the lookout for more works from Leroy Luar.

"Tingles" by Khaliza Khalid is one of the weakest stories in this anthology. There is no sense of place, there is no character depth or development, the plot is weak, and the solutions are immature. Made out of mainly narrative summaries, there is a lack of immediacy & intimacy. The story doesn't move me, doesn't give me tingles.

"When it Rains" by Celine Wu Yee Pheng is among the shorter stories in this anthology. It's a standard boy-meets-girl (in this case, girl-meets-boy), and is baby-platypus-in-a-top-hat cute. The style is simplistic, almost juvenile, but shows potential.

"Yana" by Nadia Khan is one of the few tragic love stories in this anthology. There's something about her writing that grabs you right from the start and keeps you enthralled. Mark my words: Miss Nadia will be one of Malaysian's literary giants of our generation. Her prose is unassuming and candid--in Malay we call it selamba--and you can't help but fall in love with the characters. My only concern is that most of the dialogs are in Penang-Malay, with no supplementary English explanations. While I had fun imitating the dialect, this much bilingualism may alienate readers who have no clue what is being said. However, the story carries its own weight, and I'm quite confident in saying that people will get the story anyway. The story works, dammit. It works.

"Rock 'N' Love" by Gina Yap Lai Yoong is about a man duped into entering the rat race and has to forsake his dream of being a musician. The complications and solutions are convenient--a bit too convenient, in fact--but the prose is clean and the story arc is complete. Standard story.

"Oil on Canvas" by Eeleen Lee is quietly beautiful, as expected of her. It revolves around the identity of a woman in an oil painting, and the love the deceased painter had for her. I was able to guess where the story was leading somewhere in the middle, but the story moved me nonetheless. It's one of the pieces in this anthology that gives it strength and solidity.

"Katak" by William Tham Wai Liang meanders about, and is a bit too generous with adjectives. It's about a guy pining over the memories of an old flame. I think. I kinda lost my concentration halfway through.

"The Baobab Tree" by Shivani Sivagurunathan -- I couldn't finish this story. I tried. I'm trying right now. Maybe one day I'll finish it, but not in the near future.

"Love Letters" by Lean Ka-Min is a fun read. It's about a bookworm who finds a love letter tucked between the pages of a book in the library and decides to trace the addressee. Complication arises and he flails and fails at attempting to save the day. The stakes aren't high, but it's a fun read nonetheless.

"Oh, Snap!" by Mamu Vies touches on corrupt politicians and the measures opposing parties take to defame one another. I can easily see this piece as a screenplay, and it's actually a solid read. Nothing groundbreaking about the plot, but it's entertaining and well-written. Definitely short-film material.

"A Swift Tour" by Kris Williamson can be a tour-of-Penang piece...if the author had any sense of the location in the first place. Where he excelled in describing Kuala Lumpur in his novel, Mr Williamson floundered here and ended up repeating "Penang" so much that it feels like a placeholder, letting readers conjure up their own images of the island-state. And to fit the theme of the anthology, the author also insisted on repeatedly saying how the protagonist loves Penang, because in essence, it's not a love story. The plot is simplistic, but the story could have been saved if actual descriptions of setting are used. Lazy writing, perhaps? However, I like the author's cheeky inclusion of his novel's title in the story. Sorta like finding an Easter egg.

"At the Bridge" by Agnes Ong is about what happens when reality follows happily-ever-afters. It's one of the only pieces that actually describe the setting. Not one of my favorites, but nothing glaring either.

"Runaway" by Dayang Noor is about a woman with commitment issues. Seriously. It's refreshing to know that this affliction is not limited to men. Clean prose, excellent characterization and a complete story arc. What's there to complain? One more pillar to lend this anthology strength. Like Eeleen Lee's works, I think by now I can recognize Dayang Noor's signature voice.

"She, He" by PP is about first loves, forbidden loves. The prose is a bit pretentious and overreaching, but it's not exactly bad, either.

"Majestic Heights" by Marc de Faoite is a beautifully-crafted piece. It's about the potential of love between a Nepalese and an Indonesian, both looking to make a living in a foreign land. I use "foreign land" instead of "Penang" because the setting could have been anywhere: Kuala Lumpur, Johor Bahru, Timbuktu. The story could have been leaps stronger had the author grounded the setting, which is a shame, really, because it is a good story.

"Name" by Fadzlishah Johanabas. Eh. That's me. I'll let you decide if it's good, bad, or blah. I know I wrote it with much love and affection.

 

So why did I give this anthology 5 stars on Goodreads, when there are weak stories? Stories I hate may be your cup of tea. Stories I swoon over may be blah to you. My actual grade is 4.5, but I rounded it up. There are plenty of pillars in this book that make up for the weaker ones, with -- for me -- "Happiness" being the central support pillar. There is a mixture of voices here that represent Malaysian English (except for barely-legible-English, which you can find on Twitter). The arcs are mostly complete, a rare commodity in Malaysian anthologies, and the contents of this book aren't overwhelmed by political, racial and religious parodies. It shows how Malaysia is moving forward, growing up. It shows grace, and there is much beauty in grace. I hope this book will be read far and wide, and I hope more anthologies of this quality (and more) will be published in the near future.

I am excited by the potential this anthology heralds.

Book Review: Love in Penang

Disclaimers:

1. I mentioned on Twitter that I'd rather not review locally-published English books anymore because of small-minded reaction by small-time author(s). However. This book has that much strength, leave that deep an impression, that I shall write a review anyway.
2. You may notice my name as one of the contributors, so if you think this is a biased review...eh. Read this review and I'll let you decide.

 

I have not been kind to books (especially novels) published by Fixi Novo. I expected...more, despite the clearly stated manifesto that Fixi Novo publishes pulp fiction. I still buy every title published, but my level of expection has significantly dropped.

Then Love in Penang comes along.

Where KL Noir series revel in the corrupt, the depraved and the less than savory facets of Kuala Lumpur, Love in Penang is, as its title implies, about love. The anthology isn't about bodice-rippers--come to think of it, why aren't there bodice-rippers? It's less about romance than it is about the romantic. Best of all, the romantic element is (mostly) Malaysian-style. I think this is what I love most about this book. Though written in the American language, not a single story in this anthology attempts to to emulate American sensibilities.

First, you'll notice how varied the "American language" is employed, from half the story (and most of the dialogs) unapologetically written in Penang-Malay (Nadia Khan's "Yana"), to Manglish with its lahs and hors and fragmented sentences (Zen Cho's "Double-Blind") to formal English with Malaysian sensibilities (my story "Name" is among them), and to prose that touches the literary (Leroy Luar's "Happiness" and Marc de Faoite's "Majestic Heights").

Perhaps stories like "Yana" will alienate readers who do not understand Malay, much less Penang-Malay, but will tickle the fancy of local readers who will read the story with much familiarity and vocalize the dialogs with a pseudo-Penang twang. Perhaps stories like "Double-Blind" will have actual American readers go, "Oh, how quaint. These third-worlders can speak and write a semblance of understandable English, and not live in trees as we've expected." Perhaps they are the most at risk to be set into a certain niche labeled "Malaysian English". Perhaps local readers will have difficulty accepting stories written in proper English, saying, "Konon Mat Salleh sangat la tu. Perasan." Let me tell you that it doesn't matter, because almost the entire spectrum of Malaysian English can be found within this anthology.

Then you'll notice the recurring locations. Eastern & Oriental Hotel is mentioned in 3 stories, the Esplanade in 2, Chowrasta Market in 2, Hard Rock Cafe in 2, Penang Bridge in...hmm...it's featured in 1 story (Agnes Ong's "At the Bridge") but mentioned in passing in several other stories. Funnily enough, Komtar is only mentioned in 1 story, and Bukit Bendera is not used as a setting. I wish there were a more defined sense of setting instead of simply mentioning these places. Take the E&O for example. I'm sure it is used because of its fame & history, but these stories don't describe the actual building. Kris Williamson's "A Swift Tour" does, actually, but if only there were..more.

A lot of the characters are also Hokkien Chinese (plus a Nepalese & an Indonesian protagonists in Marc de Faoite's "Majestic Heights"), and a recurring name is Hui Lin, Hui Ling, and Ling. Purely coincidental, mind.

And then there's the food. We're in Malaysia, and food is a major part of our culture. Perhaps this element could have been employed more, as certain foods are aphrodisiac, and a person's love for food will surely fit the general theme of the book, but this is just me being anal.

Because honest to God, this book is awesome. I am most concerned about a complete story arc (beginning, middle and end, though not necessarily in that particular order), and what's frustrating about Malaysian writing is that writers like to act "smart" and meander the whole length of the story, then abruptly end using totally new and unrelated elements in an open-ended conclusion that concludes nothing. Often, deus ex machina is used, and I hate that the most. Except for 1 or 2 stories (that shall remain nameless), stories in this anthology respect readers, and for that, I wholeheartedly respect the editor, Ms Anna Tan.

If you only have time to read one story, I highly recommend that you read Leroy Luar's "Happiness". The prose is brilliant, and every sentence moves the story forward. The story is quietly beautiful. It's a wonder I've never read his work(s) before. It's also a wonder why this story wasn't made the opener for the anthology. It's that strong.

There are also stories that touch on corrupt politicians and equally dubious political parties, namely Mamu Vies's "Oh, Snap!", but I'd be surprised if there are no stories at all that do this. Literature, and Art in general, reflect the time if its conception, and our political scene, with its toddler-tamper-tantrums, is a part of our culture, our life. I'm just thankful it doesn't overpower the theme of the anthology, as it does in other anthologies & long-forms.

This book is not perfect. I never claimed it was. One novelist keeps repeating "Penang" in his story, taking up the most "Penang" word count. Because, you know, if Penang is not mentioned enough for a story based in Penang, people won't know it's in Penang, because it is in Penang, you know? Because the anthology is Love in Penang, you readers have to know the story's in Penang. Again. It's in Penang.

Yeah. When an author is not familiar with a setting, generalize it enough, sprinkle the name of the location enough times that readers will get distracted & don't realize you don't actually know what you're talking about. However, I do give him props for subtly (or not so subtly) promoting the title of his novel. Brilliant.

Another novelist's short story in here is as equally messy as the novel. Poor characterization, immature plotline & measures to move the story forward, and overall it's just...messy. Bleugh.

1 story I couldn't not finish because it meandered too much that it got boring.

Others? They give this anthology strength and dignity. They give me a sense of excitement that Malaysian-English literature is leaping out of its sandbox & into international playing fields. They make me say, "this book should seriously be considered for serious awards." They are beautiful, they are tragic, they are well-written and well-chosen.

And then there is my story that closes the book. Well, that's for you to decide if you like it or not.

Technical-wise, the anthology is well-edited & well-formatted. I have qualms about the improper use of colons and semi-colons, but that's also me being anal.

All in all, I salute Anna Tan for compiling an excellent book, and I believe my hope in Fixi Novo is restored. May more volumes of this caliber be published and read worldwide. This book deserves 4.5 stars out of 5.