Singapore Writer's Festival

I was one of the panel members at the Singapore Writers Festival symposium, The Business of Books, at The Arts House on the 6th and 7th of December. I travelled down by coach on the 6th by Aeroline (which, I must admit, was pretty comfortable) having declined an air ticket by the organisers. (Travelling to KLIA for short hauls is such a pain.) I didn't stay at their official hotel either because I have relatives in Singapore. (And besides I cannot bear to stay in a hotel full of writers. I managed to shock Shan and Saras -- and Saradha -- with the admission that I don't particularly like meeting writers.)

(I know several writers who are now my friends, and they are wonderful people let me assure you. With some people you connect and become friends, with others you don't. When we communicate we communicate as friends, like normal people. Don't you want to know the person behind the book you enjoyed so much, someone asked? No, not really. Orhan Pamuk says that he prefers to read books by dead writers 'so there is no little cloud of jealousy to cloud my admiration'. In my case, I would say 'so there is no little cloud of reality to mitigate my enjoyment' of the writing. Good example, VS Naipaul: I know many who simply can't sit back and enjoy his prose because of all the other things (they think) they know about him. For me it is the song not the singer, all the time. I used to hugely admire Led Zeppelin when in college. There was a reunion concert recently and I would have liked to attend for it would have been interesting to hear what they sound like now after all these years. Would I also have liked to meet one of them personally after the show, if it was at all possible? Not really. I have organised two Literary Festivals for Malaysians to meet the writers. I got a huge buzz, both times, out of seeing people enjoying the events, mixing and mingling with the authors. But, in both cases, I was not particularly interested in meeting any of them besides doing the obligatory handshake routine. Does that make sense?)

But I digress. I attended the Golden Point Awards ceremony on the night of the 5th, their annual literary awards ceremony. It was all very staid and respectable, unlike the elephants and lions we had for our opening ceremony. I prefer not to make any comment on the standards of the winners, though some of the translations on the screen were hilarious -- on par with the 'butterflies fondling' translation during a recent Chinese Opera performance in KL. But congratulations are due to the Singapore National Arts Council for organising the Writer’s Festival in four languages (though I didn't attend any of them). Having done it twice, I know what it would be like to organise something like that. But, of course, they had the backing of the government (which, I am sure, was not necessarily always helpful -- what with committees and all) and, with that, sponsors.

The symposium was run like clockwork, as we have come to expect of any event organised by Singapore, and there was not one 'ugly' Singaporean in sight. (Where did they get that reputation from, I sometimes wonder? In my dealings with them I have always found them extremely warm. Sometimes, I think Malaysians simply have a cultural need to bitch, or else I have met only the wrong (right?) type of Singaporean.) There were some interesting discussions at the symposium (despite there being no alcohol as any symposium, by definition, should) and some that were not. I was on the panel for two sessions -- one on (surprise) independent book publishing and another (again surprise) on organising Literary Festivals. One of the best attended was the one by literary agents and agencies, with many participants taking the opportunity to show off their self published books and one or two trying to sneak in a manuscript. Considering that the participants (around 50 pax) paid SGD 200.00 per day (or SGD 300.00 for two days) to attend the symposium, I guess they were entitled to at least that.

But the session on independent publishing threw up some interesting facts. While bookshops in the region carry tens of thousands of titles from the UK and the US they would, probably, carry less then ten titles each from neighbouring countries. Try looking for Indonesian, Filipino, Thai or Singaporean authors in any of the dozen or so ‘mega’ bookstores in KL. Ditto for Manila, Bangkok, Jakarta or Singapore. So much for 40 years of ASEAN. There is simply no name recognition of writers and, hence, no sales. Why is that so? Is it because regional writers are not glamorous enough?

Don't tell Ayu Utami or Laksmi Pamuntjak that.