From the Cork Republic

There are too many things I hate about travelling, especially flying. I hate the packing, the initial drive to the airport, the waiting, the checking-in, the crotch-grabbing security frisk, the crammed seats, the taxiing, the take-off, my ears popping and my head feeling woozy, the constant drone, the plastic drinking cups, the stale micro waved food, the toilets and the dreadful shaking of the plane just as you are trying to aim, the inability to 'go' because your entire rhythm is upset, the entertainment system that never works right when you want it to, the moron sitting in front who is insistent on reclining his seat and the one next to you on the inside going for a pee every 30 minutes, the fasten-your-seat-belts sign during a turbulence that convinces you that you are going to die, the inability to sleep but getting a crick in the neck regardless, the waiting at a foreign airport in transit, finally arriving and having the immigration officer look at you like you are a terrorist, waiting for your bags while you are dog tired and hoping it has not travelled to another city, and finally getting a taxi to your hotel. So I cannot understand why people travel, especially those who do it entirely for bragging rights ... 'oh, you should have been there, it was so-oo won-der-ful' type.

My journey to Cork was all of that except for the last part: Jennifer Matthew was there at the airport to pick us up -- me and my wife -- and Pat Cotter came to visit at the hotel as soon as I got there. With that special touch of Irish hospitality, my tiredness and irritation vanished. (Actually, I was really surprised to see Jennifer because I hadn't told anyone which flight I was taking exactly -- they simply worked through some assumptions and got it right, spot on. Incredible.)

I missed Shih-Li's reading because it was on the 17th and I arrived only on the 18th, but from what I heard from the others, it went off very well. Shih-Li said that everything was pretty low-keyed, and I didn't understand what she meant until I went to one of the readings. It was at four in the afternoon, and there were about thirty people. I get a bigger turnout at Silverfish readings, I thought, and Shih-Li confirmed that this is how it was. Where are the people of Cork, I asked? Maybe they have too many events like this, she said. I couldn't buy that. This was a major international event for God's sake, with one of the biggest prize money, and there are posters everywhere too. Not to mention that the Irish have such a rich literary tradition. Why, even the restaurant we had lunch in, had a whole wall dedicated to handsomely mounted poems by Irish poets -- Seamus Heaney and Pat Cotter amongst them.

Cork is not a big city, population about 200,000, maybe the size of Subang Jaya but less crowded -- no traffic jams were noticed. (The whole of Ireland only has about four and a half million people.) All venues were within walking distance, especially the official pub where we met every night -- kindly sponsored by the 'Bank of Frank'. We were told that there was a Gaelic Football final between County Cork and County Kerry (which apparently always wins) and to expect a 'fever'. (Gaelic football, I am told, is a cross between football and rugby, except that the ball is round, and scoring is done over and under the crossbar -- very useful, that.) Frankly, I saw more Man U and Liverpool T-shirts (Roy Keane is from Cork) than that of the Cork team (known as the Rebels) on the streets, and I had to walk into several shops before I could buy a souvenir for my son.

The turnout for the events later in the evening -- those at 7.00pm and 9.00pm -- were better, maybe more come after work, but still it was nowhere near our Litfest crowds. But, significantly, almost all those attending were either authors themselves or writers working in other forms. It was mostly a 'literate' turnout with few fans and 'groupies'. Maybe, it was a deliberate policy by the organisers, writers and poets themselves, to organise a festival by authors for authors. Not a bad thing, that. But, for once, I couldn't help wondering about a more commercial approach. Yes, there would be that certain amount of silliness that goes with it, but more books will be sold, more book will be signed, and the better media coverage for the authors could perhaps even take the art of the short story up one notch in the eyes of the public. (God forbid that I am developing a longing for 'Tan Sri-Tan Sri, Puan Sri-Puan Sri, Dato'-Dato', Datin-Datin ...' speeches, rows of plastic flowers in pots, cold teh-tarik, sickly-sweet air bandung and stale karipap!)

Cork is like any other European city -- they use the Euro but drive on the left. One Irish writer told me that most of the bookstores are owned by independents. But not independent minded, unfortunately. Waterstone's is there. Boring. Window dressing on all I saw was The Lost Symbol, Dan Brown's latest (except for one second hand shop in Kenmare, but that was closed). Still, I braved myself to walk into a couple. They looked like any other bookshop in the UK or the US, and Kuala Lumpur, apart from that one tiny section for Irish Lit. The sameness was numbing. (I remember a time when a visit to a bookshop was exciting; one never knew what one would find.)

But the Irish are amazing, so curious about outsiders and so hospitable. Yes, the hospitality won it for us. Thank you Pat, thank you Jennifer, for such a wonderful time in Cork. I know what goes into organising these events.

Watch a slideshow.

How to promote your book

Now you have written this masterpiece, and it has been published. But it is not selling the way you think it should. What do you do? A writer was in the shop just the other day asking us about how to promote his book. I told him to write another one.

Well, as most writers know, the most difficult part is not writing the book, but selling it. If you have a publisher, you could well blame them and their distributor, call them names, tell everybody what a useless bunch of wankers they are, that you have been to this great bookshop in the city and they don't even have it on their shelves, that you have 'had it' with them, and how your friend in Timbuktu, Ulu Kelantan wants a copy but can't find it in his local bookshops, etc, etc. (But while you are at it, don't tell your friends that the same publisher has another book by another writer that is selling by truckloads. It will not be good for your ego.)

If you are self-published, another set of problems emerges. After walking up and down several flights of steps, you will find out very quickly how difficult it is to even get your books on the shelves of the major stores, and how almost impossible it is to get a review, or even a mention, in the newspapers. (Having said that, I was indeed pleasantly surprised to see 4 -- yes, four -- Malaysian books reviewed last Sunday in StarMag, the Sunday Star pullout. Let us hope it is a sign of things to come.)

So why don't some bookstores stock your book? There are a few reasons, and all of them have to do with economics. The first reason is shelf space: they would rather stock a book that moves, and in large quantities too, than one that does not. They will stock a limited quantity of your books for a short while to see how it does, before they decide if the space could be made more useful, or return your book to the publisher. The second is demography: that is, the manager of the store does not think your book will do well at certain locations, whatever you might think. Thirdly, the book you are still flogging was first published twenty years ago (or thereabouts). (At this point, I am often indignantly confronted with the assertion that Harper Lee wrote only one book and it is still being sold, to which my reply would normally be in the form of a question: are you Harper Lee? That works wonders as a reality-check, try it.)

As for why newspapers and magazines don't review local books, there could be several reasons. For one, the editors could decide that readers would prefer the 29th centre-spread feature of Harry Potter's latest, than one about your book. Two, they cannot find anyone willing to, actually, read and review your book. (This may be due to many reasons: you are not glamorous enough, the pay-per-review is too little,or there are too few reviewers and they prefer to read a 'more interesting' imported book rather than yours.) Thirdly, given our small market size, local publishers generally cannot afford to buy 'adverts' in the periodicals, so any concession given is considered charity, unless it helps circulation. (Many may well argue that the potential of the latter has been grossly under-sold.)

Coming back to my advice to the writer to come out with his second book, the reasons are simple. First, it is for name recognition: when you have a new book out, bookshops and readers will also look at your past work. Secondly, you write because you have to write, and if it turns out to be successful, be surprised, genuinely surprised. (No one was more surprised about being short-listed for the Frank O'Connor Award than Shih-Li herself.)

And finally, I remember reading an interview with KS Maniam in a newspaper several years ago: talking about writing is not writing, thinking about writing is not writing, writing is writing.

So, there.

(BTW, Shih-Li will be in Cork by now. Her reading is on the 17th. I am going to miss it though, because I will be travelling on that day. The awards event will be on Sunday, 20th of Sept. I will be taking my camera along. Hope I remember to take pictures.)