The literary fiction debate

I haven't done it in a long time but last week, when I saw a news heading on Pulse that said, 'Man Booker Prize 2012 Longlist announced,' I clicked the link. First, congratulations to Tan Twan Eng on making the list. Second, it has been sometime since I lost interest in the Man Booker lists.

I cannot remember when that happened. Maybe, it was the year Peter Carey's True History of the Kelly Gang won the prize over Matthew Kneale's English Passengers. I read both and, as much as I like Peter  Carey, I couldn't understand the choice. Was it not literary enough? But, it sure was damned good story telling! Perhaps that was the problem; it had a story. Or maybe it was the year Yann Martel's Life of Pi won the Booker. After reading a few pages about a Tamil boy named Patel (What? All Indians are Patels? Do editors no longer check facts?), and a corny dialogue between a (Christian) priest, a pundit and an imam (which was not too many pages into the book), I tossed it aside. After that it was DBC Pierre's Vernon God Little that put me off. I did not even try to finish the book. The proverbial last straw was Kiran Desai's The Inheritance of Loss: '... weight of South African diamonds, so great, so heavy, that one day, from one ear, an ear-ring ripped through, a meteor disappearing with a bloody clonk into her bowl of srikhand.'

That is literary?

My major problem, of course, is that I am a bookseller. Many years ago, one well-read customer (a senior and native English speaker) asked me about a certain book. After an infinitesimal pause, I described it as 'literary'. Maybe she caught my pause, or maybe she had already made up her own mind about that 'l' word. She said, "You mean boring." I was embarrassed, and she was right.(I don't recall the title of the book, but remember it as one of those prize-winners, and quite excruciatingly boring.)

It is all well and good for barely literate chain-store sales clerks: a 'The Winner of the ... Prize' sticker on the cover is enough information. Let the buyer beware. Unfortunately, that doesn't work at Silverfish Books. Everyone here reads, and widely too. And we are expected to know, and (worse still) to give customers an honest opinion.

Arghhhh!

Prize-winners are not the only books we have difficulty selling. There is nothing in modern Anglo-American literature, to inspire us any more. "Enough about Jewish mothers. Enough," I screamed at Philip Roth's Portnoy's Complaint all those years ago, before tossing the book. Now I scream, "Enough about Indian mothers, enough about arranged marriages, enough about incestuous rape, enough about bound feet, enough about breasts like mangoes, enough about ... oh, hell."  "Enough, Jonathan Franzen; stop whining. You sound like a aeroplane getting ready for take off." (But, I admit, I still have a weakness for Salman Rushdie and JM Coetzee, although they are now merely pale imitations of their old selves.)

So what does an indie bookseller do? Thank God for the Europeans, and the Latin Americans, and the Africans, and the Chinese, and the Japanese, and South Asians who don't write in English, and the Vietnamese, and ... everyone else. Jose Saramago is one of our best selling authors. And we can push Arturo Perez Reverte and (now) Carlos Ruiz Zafon without cringing. If you want to look clever, read Milan Kundera. Garcia Marquez, Vargas Llosa and Jorge Amado are our perennials. If you like the bizarre, try Mo Yan; the kinky, Tanizaki; or exquisite beauty, Kawabata. As for Indians, I prefer authors from Kerala, Kanataka, Andhra and Tamil Nadu -- yes, the southerners. Bengali writers have been a tad overexposed and, besides, they appear to want to write mostly in English now; following the money trail.

So it was not without some amusement that I read the story in Salon.com: English teacher: I was wrong about “Hunger Games”.

"I urge my students to read smart new books. But it turns out that acclaimed literary fiction isn't better than YA," says Brian Platzer an eight grade English Teacher. He continues, "With so many adult readers of the Harry Potter, Twilight and Hunger Games series, journalists are more frequently asking the question, What, if anything, separates literary fiction from genre fiction in general and young adult fiction specifically?" After having convinced his student to read one of those current 'literary' novel, he concludes, "I stole hours from James’ summer vacation when he could have experienced the same kind of pleasure watching a sitcom or thriller."

So there.

A story without good language is still a story. A story with good language is a good one, maybe even a great one. A book with good language, but no story is meaningless. The result is either a freak show (in which case the author should join a circus), or is a substitute for valium.

So, dear reader, don't be ashamed of a book you like just because it has a story. But, seriously, try one of those books in translation. Remember, translators need to have extremely good language skills to pull it off. And, considering how much money they make (compared to authors), they can only be doing it for the love of it, and because they think it's important.

Raman Krishnan
Silverfish Books

Myth and history

I read somewhere: history is what guides you and a myth is what misguides you. The 'learned' dismiss myths as irrational beliefs, quite unable to withstand the rigours of logic, while history is a verifiable and objective record of events that took place at sometime in a time past and is ... well ...  cast in stone; that no matter who the reader is, regardless of his class or creed, it will remain the same, immutable and unalterable. That's the theory. Unfortunately, the world is more complicated than that. In an ideal world populated entirely by impartial scholars, history will be written objectively, uninfluenced by political forces, the writers own subjectivity and his own personal subscriptions to private prejudices and beliefs. In reality, every country has its own version of history, with modifications ranging from mere ornamentation and embellishment, to total rewrites. (China and Japan -- and they are not the only ones -- appear to have an annual festival of contested histories).

Photo-shopped history

Malaysia might be unique in the way different versions of history exist simultaneously in writing and in the minds of people, many of whom are convinced they are being hoodwinked by the powers, while their children are being ruthlessly indoctrinated and exploited in an attempt to reshape the past to conform to a predetermined model. It could be merely a reflection of the confidence (or the lack thereof) that those people have in the readiness, willingness and ability of the administration to speak the truth, or at least not bend it too much. We could consider ourselves singularly fortunate (if we can call it that) to have the opportunity to, actually, see the process of the mythification of history by selective omission, inclusion and embellishment, all in real time; if not (yet) the complete mythologisation and total fabrication.

Hence the irony: history is the primary source of myths. (Superstition is something else.)

Sejarah Melayu

The current collection of Malaysian Classics by Silverfish Books, Marong Mahawangsa, Sejarah Melayu and The Epic of Bidasari, are generally considered 'useless as history', mere myths (note the tone of derision). Are they an important part of our lives, or merely a diversion? There are interesting passage in Sejarah Melayu, some of which made me laugh out loud:

"It was the custom of all the young gentlemen, when they wanted money, to go and represent to the bandahara that the market place in their quarter of the town was not placed even, and had a great many shops irregularly projecting, and that it would be proper to adjust it, for would not His Majesty be in a great passion if he should pass by and see? 'Well then,' said Tun Hasan, 'go all of you with a surveyor and make it all even by the chain.' Then, the young gentlemen would go and, where they saw the houses of the richest merchants, there would they extend their chain and order the houses to be pulled down. Then the merchants, who were the proprietors of the ground, would offer them money, some a hundred and some fifty, and some ten dollars. Such was the practice of the young gentlemen, who would then go away with the surveyor and divide the money."

Nothing much has changed, has it?!

Makota Raja-Raja

Another one, this from Makota Raja-Raja (one of the other tales in The Epic of Bidasari):

"King Harmuz received one day a letter from his minister in which he said, 'Many merchants being in town with a great quantity of jewels, pearls, hyacinths, rubies, diamonds and other precious stones, I bought all they had for Your Majesty, paying 200,000 tahil. Immediately afterwards, there arrived some merchants from another country who wanted to buy these and offered me a profit of 200,000 tahil. If the king consents, I will sell the jewels and later buy others.'

"King Harmuz wrote to his minister the following response, 'What are 200,000 tahil? What are 400,000 tahil, profit included? Is that worth talking about and making so much ado? If you are going into the operations of commerce, who will look after the government? If you buy and sell, what will become of the merchants? It is evident that you would destroy thus our good renown and that you are the enemy of the merchants of our kingdom for your designs would ruin them. Your sentiments are unworthy a minister.' And for this he removed him from office."

Touche.

There are many good stories in these old classics: the one about Raja Bersiong (in Marong Mahawangsa) is interesting in more ways than one; read it and see what you think. Re-editing and publishing these books was immensely educational for us; and, in these days of interesting times, they are good starting points for the lay reader who wants to begin to understand who we are. (It was a challenge to retain the original language and structure as far as possible, and still make it accessible to the modern reader.)

Genetic or memetic

Myths, in many ways, are far more than history and are fundamental to the development of ideologies, religions and cultures. The conventional wisdom says: myths are created to convey a message; history is a record of actual events. Myths are the roots of thought pattern, the foundation of beliefs, and the basis of decision making.

It is far too common to hear the dismissive, "Itu semua mythos," in this country; meaning that they are worthless knowledge. Some have made a career of relentlessly ridiculing them, but they refuse to go away (and even instances when they do, they leave behind a huge vacuum in the culture readily filled be any other passing fad -- benign and malign). I used to be a believer in the separation of the genetic and the memetic, that while the former is biologically driven, the latter is essentially cultural and, therefore, an 'optional' extra, 'apps' that could be added to the basic operating system for personalisation and enhancement. But I am beginning to wonder about that. While myths, per se, are memetic, are we somehow genetically hard-wired to render us incapable of living without them? Can you imagine a world where no one speaks, tells stories or listens to them? How long will we survive? Are we genetically programmed to create myths? Is that why we are such good storytellers?

Only others believe in myths

To those who believe, myths are real and even 'alive'. But for them to remain so, they have to be believed -- totally. Myths of others are not believed because they are considered false. Only the myths of one's own creed are true and, since they are true, they cannot be myths. Besides, to acknowledge one's own beliefs as myths, would be an admission of the creed's belief in falsehood, and that their judgement was really based on a false premise. A creed does not base its decision on falsehood; only others do.

Suicide bombers believe they will go straight to heaven (never mind the virgins); they don't believe that's a myth. The American pioneers 'won' the West against enormous odds because they believed in the myth that it was their destiny, and still celebrate it, although an entire civilisation was annihilated in the process.

As the good poet said, "For you don't count the dead, When God's on your side."

Censorship madness in Malaysia

At 11.30am, on the 29th of May, a publishing house in Petaling Jaya was raided by 20 officers of The Selangor Islamic Religious Department (Jais). 180 copies of a book by liberal Muslim Sudanese-Canadian activist Irshad Manji were seized, and the director of the publishing house Mr Ezra Zaid was arrested and then released on a RM1800.00 (USD600.00) bail with one surety over the publication of the controversial book.

Yes, it sounds like the plot from a movie by Sacha Baron Cohen, but it happened in real-time in Malaysia. During the ISA period, people lived in fear of doing or saying something wrong, or even fraternising with someone not 'approved' of, terrified of the the 2am knock on the door and the sudden removal and total disappearance (for a few days) of a loved one, and a prolonged incarceration at our equivalent of the Gulag. Now, that law has been repealed, and we can breathe (and sleep) a little easier; or at least, so we thought.

Black cloud

The book business in the country, however, has seen no such reprieve. All booksellers and publishers live in constant fear of being raided, having our books seized, and personnel detained (or worse). Any of your customers could be a Special Branch agent prowling through our aisle for contraband material, and you’d have no idea what is not allowed until he (or she) seizes it and deems it so. A daily occurrence? No. How many times have I been raided? None. How many visits have I received from the Special Branch? I have no idea. Like Sauron’s dark forces, they are formless, but everywhere. The fear is real and constant. It is like a dark cloud that permeates and poisons the air, and infects everyone who breathes. Sometimes it's so thick that one feels one can cut it with a knife. Perhaps, we have been conditioned by genetic memories, several millenniums old, of cattle raiders, invading armies and burning villages; of rapine, pillage and plunder. Then, when we hears of twenty-burly-men raiding parties, it all leaps to the surface again, because they can strike you any time, anywhere and from any direction, and they (the dark raiders) want you to know that they can. Irrational fear? Maybe. Paranoid? Hey, which country do you think we live in?

I watched on television, a BBC correspondent interviewing a well-to-do Libyan family at their home during their recent war. The journalist kept asking the mother of the children, why she was against the government when they had every material need, and all the food they wanted. Her English was not good, but I understood immediately what she was trying to say. Malaysia is not Libya. But when a twenty-man raiding party descends on one's premises, it is enough to scare the shit out of most. What the woman was trying to say was that the most important freedom, for her, was the freedom from that constant fear. I understood that.

Intimidation and harassment

Why twenty men? Wouldn't a polite phone call have been sufficient for Mr Ezra Zaid to 'surrendered' himself for questioning? Wouldn’t one or two persons have been enough to carry off 180 books?

Not in a civilised society, one would think. But it all becomes perfectly clear when one considers the intimidation factor of twenty men at your door. Intimidation is the tool of those not interested in discussions, or debate; a tool of those that is intended to demonstrate naked primal power, and its maintenance. Intimidation and harassment is also the tools of choice for those who wish to control this country by censorship.

In the case of the raid on the office of ZI Publictions, publishers of the book Allah, Kebebasan dan Cinta (Allah, Liberty and Love), it has been in the news for over a week, with the author even allowed to come into the country for the book launch on 19 May (though some of her other events were cancelled). Earlier, in 2009, Malaysia banned her book, The Trouble With Islam Today. With this in the background, one is all the more surprised at the treatment meted out to the Mr Ezra Zaid. I speak out for him, not only, as a fellow publisher and a friend, but a remark I expect to be thrown in my direction is, “Why are you so concerned; you’re not a Muslim. Stay out of Islamic affairs, or else ...”
 
Right to freedom from fear

Do Muslims have fewer rights in the country by virtue of their religion? Do they not deserve to be treated with the same human decency as everyone else; do they not deserve to expect, and receive, that polite phone call? Or, is a twenty-man raid a non-Muslim publisher just as likely? That black cloud spreads while the emperor fiddles.

Back to censorship (this is an old story): I had a shipment of Khalil Gibran books detained by the Customs at KLIA. When I tried to explain that only The Prophet by that author has been proscribed by the government and not all his titles, the officer retorted, saying of the government, “Apa dia tahu, apa PM tahu.”  (What do they know; what does the prime minister know.) There was no point in  further talk. I never saw my books again. (One officer told me that someone in the Ministry didn’t like the way some of them were written, and so they decided to seize the lot. Everyone is a critic.)

Yes, it does appear that I am willing to compromise and live with censorship. Let me assure you, that’s not true; but I’ll have that debate on another day.

First, let’s establish some civility, human decency and freedom from fear in this country.

Raman Krishnan
Publisher
Silverfish Books

Panflation: the devaluation of everything

I read this story in The Economist recently, and was quite amused. Panflation is described as a ‘virulent monster’ that is ‘dangerously out of control’ and ‘” needs to be recognised for the plague it has become’. I had to read on a little more to see where this doomsday scenario was leading.

World traveller

The first example quoted is the size of women’s dresses: ‘Estimates by The Economist suggest that the average British size 14 pair of women’s trousers is now more than four inches wider at the waist than it was in the 1970s. In other words, today’s size 14 is really what used to be labelled a size 18; a size 10 is really a size 14.’ The reason for this is obvious: marketers have decided that women feel happier buying dresses in smaller sizes. I have heard this before but I still don’t get it. They do have mirrors at home, don’t they?

Another example is super-sizing: what used to be small, medium and large, is now regular, large and very-large, which may soon give way large, very-large and humongous. (Hold your breath; it is going to happen – in some form – sooner than you think.) Then there is the ‘deluxe and luxury’ that used to be ‘standard and deluxe’; and one would no longer need to endure the ignonimity of the ‘economy class’ because some airlines are already calling it the ‘World Traveller’ class.

Six times cleverer

Then, there is the scary bit; grade inflation. The story says, ‘In Britain the proportion of A-level students given “A” grades has risen from 9% to 27% over the past 25 years. Yet other tests find that children are no cleverer than they were. A study by Durham University concluded that an A grade today is the equivalent of a C in the 1980s. In American universities almost 45% of graduates now get the top grade, compared with 15% in 1960.’

I have always wondered about that during the ‘PMR (School Leaving Certificate) exam result season’. During my time in the 60s, the best a top student could score was 8 ‘As’. Now, we have a handful of students scoring 20 ‘A’ all over the country. If these results are a fair reflection of today’s generation, the top student now is two and half times cleverer than those in the sixties, and since there are two and a half times as many in the top bracket, and the entire younger generation is more than six times cleverer than the old. Scary, right? But, walking around Bangsar, I wonder where they all are. Facebooking? Building nuclear powered rockets in their backyard? Attending Bersih rallies? Maybe, they’re all living abroad. (Utusan story for picture on the left: Seramai 4,117 atau 7.69 peratus pelajar di negeri ini berjaya memperoleh semua A -- 4117 students score As in in all subjects in the PMR exams in Johor.)

Literary super-sizing

Naturally, this brings me back to the book world. I read another story in The Daily Beast, ‘Are Books Becoming Too Long to Read?’ Says Marc Wortman, ‘We read books by the word. But lately publishers seem to sell them by the pound. For a book to win recognition as BIG these days, it must be weighty.’

So, is there a case for literary supersizing?

Certainly, we have had customers who value books by the kilo (perhaps keeping future resale value to the paper-lama man in mind). ‘Aiyoh, why the book so expensive, one. So few pages only, what?’ That's not an uncommon reaction. Parent’s balk the most when buying books for their children. “Before we go home, she already finish reading in the car, lor.” So they make their children read the same book fifteen times, and then they fight.

Incarnation

Still, I don’t get Marc Wortman’s beef. Are big books only a modern phenomenon? War and Peace comes to mind, and so does Crime and Punishment; and Gone with the Wind. And  A Suitable Boy. Methinks  Mr Wortman has forgotten (though I agree with his view of the Steve Jobs book by Isaacson which could have easily been halved: what a waste of paper).

In the seventies, I don’t recall Catch 22 by Joseph Heller being a small book, nor Alex Haley’s Roots. The eighties had John Fowles and John Irving who both didn’t write too many small books. In the seventies and eighties, big books were ‘in’ if one wanted to look erudite, or impress chicks. So, nothing much has changed. I now balk at big books for a different reason: not enough time left in this incarnation, lor.

New way to impress friends

If there was supersizing in the book world (note the past tense) it was in the mega store business. Whatever the chains may say, blaming the e-book for their woes, the collapse of the mega bookstore was due to poor business plans: too many large bookshops (sometimes on the same street), renting very  expensive real estate, and undercutting one another on prices, particularly of best sellers (where the meat is).

Big books will always be around; but with the advent of the e-reader, they may no longer be necessary to impress friends.