The class system in literature

Some years ago, when we were still in Desa Seri Hartamas, we were roundly scolded by one of our customers for selling John Grisham titles in Silverfish Books and having the audacity to display the titles in front of the shop. "You are not that type of bookshop," we were told, quite emphatically. Our only response was a very sheepish, "Just trying, lah. Experiment, lah." (For the record, we couldn't sell even one of his books and had to return them all -- it was a failed experiment.)

So what type of bookshop are we? We did have an idea of the type of bookshop we wanted to be when we set it up in mid-1999, right in the middle of an economic (and political) turmoil. It was before the mega bookshop era, and Skoob Books was the only decent bookshop in town. It was a time when chain bookstores had a section for "mature readers", leading to much doubt, introspection and mental trauma. Do I qualify? What if the cashier asks questions? What if she can smell fear? What if they ask for a blood sample to determine my DNA to ascertain I am mature enough? What if I fail the test? What if my friends laugh at me?

Sigh. Life was so-oo difficult.

Anyway, we wanted a bookshop with books we'd want to read, a book boutique as it were, and our customers have made sure we did not deviate from the path. They helped shape the character of Silverfish Books as much as we did, maybe more. And, consequently, we have received both bouquets and brickbats. On the upside we have been called a 'real' bookshop, a 'good' bookshop and a ‘serious’ bookshop. And, on the downside we have been called snobs, hoity-toity and, also, serious.

Book selling has many similarities with the rag trade. There are the boutiques run by designers (or those who pretend to be) for those who care. Then there are the supermarkets selling every damn thing for the consumer. And, there are the reject shops selling overruns, defective merchandise or stuff that has been on shelves for a while, for those who care less, a lot less. Basically, this is true of bookshops too.

Ian Rankin is reported to have said recently that "crime novelists have been placed at the bottom of our literary hierarchy". He was, of course speaking of the British literary scene where poets are generally regarded to be on top, followed by playwrights, and then 'literary' novelists. And after that come people who write crime, thrillers and on espionage, followed by the bottom feeders who do the rest of the stuff which we need not go into.

Some of the class system certainly seems to have filtered down to the colonies. (We shall not go into details, for we fear the wrath.) Personally, we do not subscribe to it at all (no matter how others might view us). There are good books, and there are bad books. Period. We do not necessarily have to like a book to accept some will consider it good, and vice versa. We do have a bias for good prose, though. Poor or lazy writing is so off-putting.

So, we choose every book we put on our shelves, but we do wish we have more resources to buy much more titles we like, quite a lot more. Certainly, we don't want to order every title on the list. (I have written before about why a book is not a shoe.) Unfortunately, poetry and plays are the first to be sacrificed because they really don't sell very well.

There is a rumour out there that good books are hard to read, or that good books are boring. So far, we have little evidence of that. It is a fact, good books make you think. In fact, they mandate thinking. Now, if thinking is considered hard work, then that is another matter.

For the original article see The Guardian

Censorship and the stupidification of a nation

According to The Sydney Morning Herald, Paris-based media rights watchdog, Reporters Without Borders, has listed Australia along with Iran and North Korea in a report on countries that pose a threat of internet censorship. So, another one bites the dust. Join the club. This is how it all begins. Been there, done that, wearing the T-shirt.

Censorship always provokes extreme emotional responses. Proponents deflect it by, self-righteously frothing in the mouth, arguing Asian (or any such) values. But Kamasutra is also banned in this country. Well, so much for that. Or maybe they think it comes from Europe.

The opponents can go on and on about freedom of speech and human rights, which are not noble thoughts and arguments, but mean nothing in the face of naked power. I was once persuaded to attend a meeting on censorship organised by a local NGO, and managed to piss off almost everyone. "Look, I have heard plenty about human rights and freedom of speech and all that today," I said. "You really don't need to convince me. I belong to the converted. You have to decide how you'd preach to the unconverted, explain to them why freedom of speech is better than censorship."

So, is freedom of speech better than censorship?

To quote US Supreme Court Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes (not that I consider the US to be a paragon in respect of either human rights or freedom of speech -- censorship takes many insidious forms), "... ultimate good desired is better reached by free trade in ideas -- that the best test of truth is the power of thought to get itself accepted in the competition of the market ..."

In other words: every idea has a right to exist, and has to be allowed to exist and compete freely with other views, particularly the entrenched ones, in a marketplace of ideas. While the benefit of this to the individual and to the country is obvious, why should naked power care? If one were the incumbent, why would, or should, one care about any view other than one's own, even if it is better, particularly if it threatens one's position of power?

John Stuart Mills, in his essay On Liberty, is clearer. "The peculiar evil of silencing the expression of an opinion is, that it is robbing the human race; posterity as well as the existing generation; those who dissent from the opinion, still more than those who hold it. If the opinion is right, they are deprived of the opportunity of exchanging error for truth: if wrong, they lose, what is almost as great a benefit, the clearer perception and livelier impression of truth, produced by its collision with error."

So, censorship is a lose-lose proposition. In short, it robs the nation and its people of the benefit of new ideas. Nothing can explain it more clearly than the case of Galileo (although there are thousands of other examples). Stephen Hawking says, "Galileo, perhaps more than any other single person, was responsible for the birth of modern science." Galileo's unstinting support of Copernicus heliocentric theory (which many other chicken-shit philosophers and physicist of the time supported, but dared not speak out in support), which was in direct opposition to the geocentric view held by the church, earned him a date with the inquisition and lifelong house arrest. But, if it weren't for the likes of him we would, certainly, never have had the iPhone.

Still, it does not solve the power equation. There are long-term benefits of free speech, certainly, but why should one care if one were in power, for surely one would have no desire to lose it? Why should one not simply let the country rot, as long as one can enrich oneself? There are enough examples of that in the world today.

Bertrand Russell wrote (okay, I confess, he was my schoolboy hero, and I was a nerd, but I also read Batman): "An attitude of obedience, when it is exacted from subordinates, is inimical to intelligence. In a community in which men have to accept, at least outwardly, some obviously absurd doctrine, the best men must become either stupid or disaffected. There will be in consequence, a lowering of intellectual level, which must, before long, interfere with technical progress. This is especially true when the official creed is one which few intelligent men can honestly accept."

He said further: "The Nazis have exiled most of their ablest Germans, and this must, sooner or later, have disastrous effects on their military technique." Now, this was written before the start of the Second World War. We all know what happened after that.

In the sixties our universities were world-class, the pride of the developing world, among the best in Asia. Now, we struggle to be counted. Students, those who can afford to, go overseas. They don't even want to consider attending a local one if they can help it, whatever the quota. As for the quality of the graduates, one need only ask our employers. Since the eighties we have lost thousands of our skilled workers overseas, not for reasons of economics, but due to real or imagined sense of injustice and an intolerable climate of intellectual asphyxiation. We have lost the battle to attract the life saving FDI because our workers are no longer considered competitive. Our civil service is constantly in the press, fire-fighting the results of poor decision-making. We hear of police confiscating books from shops one day, and ministers promoting reading the next. Even our football team is languishing. It is as if thinking itself has been outlawed.

Some may point to the eighties when civil servants were told to sit up, shut up, and punch clocks, when we sacrificed our young at the altar of Mammon for some to get unbelievably rich, when bad news was banned, when argument and debate ended, and when wisdom flowed from only one source. It was the end of dissent, the end of thought.

Now the high points in our life include talking about roti canai tossing competitions in Subang Jaya and teh tarik experiments in outer space. Oh yes, we also have a committee for winning Nobel Prizes.

Stupidification is not a condition, it is a process. We are not born stupid, but we can get there if we try hard enough.

Censorship by harassment

"... there is a widespread belief that doctrinal uniformity is essential to national strength," Bertrand Russell wrote in his treatise on power in 1938. But he also said, "... the most successful nations, throughout modern times, have been those least addicted to the persecution of heretics."

I remember reading these years ago when I was in school, and I wondered if Russell's views can somehow be proven wrong, without anyone noticing, that is. In Malaysia, 'book police' are back in the news after a short absence. Interestingly, this has happened very soon after Sister in Islam (SIS) won its court battle over the 'banning' of one of its books. Sorry for the cynicism, but one cannot help but wonder. It could be a coincidence, of course, but Malaysia does have a pretty long track record for 'censorship by harassment'.

Censorship is probably as old as writing itself, but it took on a whole new dimension from the 12th to the 16th century in Europe. Basically, reading was outlawed to all but the clerics since they were the only ones allowed to interpret the Bible. Lay people were lay people, sheep, or rakyat, not endowed with enough intelligence to make any decision for themselves. With the invention of the Gutenberg press and the printing of the Gutenberg Bible, things really came to a head. In theory, any lay person who could read, or was suspected of being able to do so, or, god forbid, be in possession of a Bible, was arrested, imprisoned, tortured and/or killed by various methods including being burnt at the stake, hanged, drawn and quartered, pulled apart by horses, drowned, impaled, and several other creative means. In reality, many were political opponents, or those who had gone out of favour, or merely casualties of random victimisation. By some estimates, 9 million people lost their lives, and many more -- presumably those who repented -- were left lame.

We all know how that ended. 'Censorship through terror' did not work then, and never has. Throughout history, 'book police' have always lost. But that does not seem to stop them.

Certainly, our own home grown variety of 'book police' are not quite that crude. Some years ago, we put up a list of so-called banned books on our website, 'so-called' because many were not actually banned by the Ministry. We do not know what actually happened in the background after that, but we can guess. All of a sudden there was a deafening silence from every direction; book distributors refused talk to us, especially about that dreaded 'b' list. It was as if omerta, a code of silence, had come into force. Many books we wanted to order became unavailable. Many distributors refused to import books for us, even if we paid them in advance, particularly if it had a 'banned' word in the title, or on the possibility that cover design could offend one ultra-sensitive individual living in Batang Berjuntai, or somewhere. (No prizes for guessing the words.)

The recent confiscation of multiple copies of several titles from bookshops around the country is interesting. Firstly these books have been in the market for over a year and anyone who wants one has already bought it. It could be another case of closing the stable doors after the horses have gone, something we do have a track record for. Or, it could be something more sinister.

Why do enforcement officers -- what an ostentatious name, indeed -- need to take multiple copies of a book if they only want to 'read them' for anything prejudicial to the security of the country, even if they say please. Wouldn't one copy do? Couldn't they get one from the publishers?

Recently, several copies of the first two titles were taken from one outlet of a chain stores on grounds that the books might have 'suspicious content'. A memo went out to its other outlets to have them all to be removed from the shelves. Diabolical, but effective. The bookstore will get a credit note from the distributor, who will in turn get one from the publisher. And the bookstore will, in future, be very hesitant to sell other titles by the same authors, or from the 'offending' publisher. (Remember the Salman Rushdie incident: although only one title is officially banned, all others have become endangered species in the country.) Why bother to ban books and have that gazette challenged in court, when this is so much more effective?

Inquiries are probabley a waste of time, omerta might already be in force.

Why I don't join book clubs

Reading Motoko Rich's story, The Book Club With Just One Member, I couldn't help thinking that she was writing about me. I love to read, but I really do not like to talk about books I read, which puts me a bind sometimes, being a bookseller and a publisher. When people walk into the store and ask me for a good read, it is quite easy. But when they ask me what the book is about, I get stumped. First of all, does a book have to be about something? Secondly, a good book is about many things, all at the same time, and that is its beauty. And different people will walk away from it taking different things with them, and the book will still remain whole. But, usually, I can tell them quite easily what a book is not about: it is not self-help, it is not management, and so on.

Fortunately, most of my customers do not expect a blow-by-blow account of the entire plot. All I need to tell them is how the prose leaves a pleasant after-taste in the mouth, or how full-bodied and big it is, or warn them that 'this is strong stuff'. Yes, it is almost like describing wine. Most understand, even love my suggestions, but a few will still want to know, "So, what is the story about?"

I have never liked taking apart a book, even when I was young, particularly ones I liked, I considered good. Thank God I didn't major in literature. All that deconstruction would have killed it for me. I often recommend good books to others, of course, but a 'you must read this' or a 'read this and tell me what you think' will be the extent of my spin. And all I would want in response would be a 'wow' or an 'oh my God!'. In my world, good books must be savoured and enjoyed whole, not talked about to death.

Certainly, I am obsessive. I do understand book clubs and the roles they play, and why people like to join them, even online ones. Why, I have even helped organise several, but I have preferred not to become a member of any. If I read something and I like, or can relate to a line, a sentence, a phrase or even a word, I do not like to strip it, take it apart, and parade it naked in front of a dozen prying eyes in public. Go on now, go! Go find your own personal moment, line, phrase, word or whatever! Go, parade that all you want, if you want. For me, let me enjoy my private moments with my books, moments that will live with me for years, or decades. I might mention it to someone special, someone close, someone whom I know will understand, in private as if at a confession. But, I would prefer not to go starkers in public.

So, that is why I do not join book clubs. Please do not misunderstand. It is nothing personal. Please join as many clubs as you want, and enjoy them. As Motoko Rich says, "The collective literary experience certainly has its benefits. Reading with a group can feed your passion for a book, or help you understand it better. Social reading may even persuade you that you liked something you thought you didn't."

But I am different. You might have heard the saying, "If you can talk about it, it ain't Tao." Or, to quote Louis Armstrong, "If you have to ask what jazz is, you'll never know." Reading, for me, is like that. It is a total body experience.

Read Motoko Rich's story in the New York Times