Book snobs

When someone said (this was sometime ago) about one of our products, she didn't think Silverfish published 'that kind of book', we were gob-smacked. Our first reaction was, "What, what, what?!" as if we had been caught with our pant-zipper down. We were certainly confused. After we calmed, we asked ourselves, "Why did she think we wouldn't publish this?" It was quite obvious that she thought we were a bunch of snobs, but what kind?! It was important to ensure that one stood accused of the right type of snobbery. Then, we laughed.

We have met many types of book snobs in the fourteen years we have been open. Some will come into the shop and declare loudly (as if it makes a difference to us) that they don't read Malaysian books (oh dear), or only read business and management, or self-help, or non-fiction, implying that everything they don't read could be classified as rubbish. One friend even came in and declared that she only read thrash! I love her!

Anyway, going back to the title that upset the madam so much, it was a book of short stories by one author. Nothing embarrassing about that. The stories were anecdotal, but told with plenty of humour. Was humour the problem, then? In all the years we have been reading manuscripts, it is interesting to note that humour is an ingredient that is glaringly missing from Malaysian writing. Strange, isn't it? Yes, we have satirical cartoons and jokes. We love to tell Irish jokes with local minorities featured as characters, not to mention local political ones, but, as a people, we appear to have completely lost our ability to laugh at ourselves. We can laugh at others, but not ourselves. How many Malaysian writers would we regard as funny? Well, Chua Kok Yee is one, although some have remarked, "Aiyoh, why he write like that, one?" completely missing his humour. You know the Hokkien word, "Siow?" That's what Kok Yee is!

But, we have reason to believe what madam really meant was, "It is not literary." Again, "What, what, what?!"

Okay, let's go back a little in history. 'Literary' was a label publishers stuck on books that they otherwise couldn't sell (or as a reaction against Faber which had establishing itself a notch above the rest, at the time). It was, we believe, a trend that started in the late seventies, or thereabouts, and reinforced by the Booker (and other) prizes. It was generally considered to be language driven, as opposed to plot. They came to imply good prose (that beautiful turn of phrase), a slice of life, a pithy statement about the human condition, all told subtly in an understated tale. I was a snob, and I wouldn't read anything else, in the late nineties and the early naughties. To quote my favourite minstrel: 'I was so much older then, but I'm younger than that now'. 

In the last thirty years, Anglophone 'literary' titles have become mere products, another commodity, albeit one with very little appeal amongst most readers (except 'snobs'). General readers have largely abandoned them in droves for sci-fi, fantasy, horror, crime (marginally still acceptable to the L-types), thrillers, chicklit, soft porn, romance, etc, etc, where the money is. Literary books, on the other hand, have increasingly been regarded as boring. Sure, there are many that are still good, but their authors tend to be older, or the usual suspects. Unfortunately, several (including prize-winning ones) appear to be nothing more than exercises in self-gratification. Still, these are products that keep publishing houses looking respectable while they make their money elsewhere (even when they are run by CEOs who publicly -- and infamously -- declare that they do not read). An Arab-American author I met recently said that Fifty Shades was paying for her book! She would not have been published otherwise. (Someone in the industry recently proposed a new 'literary' genre. What? To drive more people away?)

Anyway, this is how we choose books to publish at Silverfish. First, there must be an interesting story, whatever the genre, solidly structured, well argued within its own internal logic, and told with empathy from the points of view of all characters. If you preach, we will reject your work. (We will also reject books on self-help, business & management, academic & text, and teenage angst (no matter how old the writers) with or without an honest reason.) Second, adequate language to convey the meaning of the story. If language skills are better, they should enhance the storytelling and the reader experience, but never stand in the way of comprehension, or shout, "Look at me, look at me. See how clever I am!" Please bear in mind that poor language skills can be fixed; a poor story cannot. (Ironically, the simpler it is, the harder it is to write.) Third, we like writers who do not have a problem with working hard, and are not unwilling to rewrite. (We can suss them out fairly quickly.) And fourth, we like writers who make a difference, who are not afraid to push boundaries, who research their work well, and who are honest.

Yes, the madam was right. We are snobs indeed, but we don't apologise for being interested only in the best of Malaysian literature.

Obsessed with fame

I have always defended young people against criticisms by the old, who accuse them of being lazy, entitled, selfish and shallow. "My customers are mostly young," I protest, "and they read widely." Unfortunately, a recent study appears to show that they may be right, at least with regards to those born in the 1990s. Time magazine calls them the Me Me Me Generation, an entire generation obsessed with themselves and their fake Facebook/Twitter persona. (According to the National Institutes of Health in the US, 58% more college students scored higher on a narcissism scale in 2009 than in 1982.)

I came across two more interesting stories.

The Marshmallow experiment

First from Wikipedia. In an experiment at the Bing Nursery School at Stanford University in the 1960s by psychologist Walter Mischel, children age four to six (over 600 took part) were led into a room and offered the choice of having one small reward (like a marshmallow) immediately, or two if they waited 15 mins. So the children sat looking at their treat after the researcher left the room. Many gave in to temptation very quickly, others took a while and a few managed to get their two treats.

In the follow-up of the experiment, researchers checking in on these same students in high school, found that those with more self-control were better behaved, less prone to addiction, and scored higher on the SAT. (Was it pure self-control or strategic thinking by the nasty little buggers?)

Walter Mischel had run a similar experiment in Trinidad a decade earlier with different ethnic groups of contrasting stereotypes. 53 children in a rural area were given the choice of a 1-cent candy immediately or a better 10-cent one in a week’s time. Mischel reported significant differences due to ethnicity, age, and the absence of a father in the family. Socio-economics didn’t seem to matter. Intact families did.

To many people it would be a no-brainer that self-control leads to productivity and success. Would you rather do the more tempting ‘lepak at the mamak’ every night with friends or work on your novel? Who is more likely to succeed in whatever they choose to do? “I have no time,” is something you’d hear often from those who’d rather waste theirs on phone calls, texting, Facebook, Twitter or whatever (not that they’d see it that way). Jocelyn K. Glei, Editor-in-Chief and Director of 99U, thinks Facebook is the new marshmallow.

G is for Grit

Second, I watched a Youtube video by Angela Lee Duckworth on TED talks, which Jade recommended, on a research she is currently undertaking with children to understand the ingredients of success. Duckworth found  that while self-control was an excellent predictor of ones ability to follow through on some types of difficult tasks, it was not the most important factor when predicting success. She was suspicious of 'talent' and 'intelligence' too. Duckworth research boiled it all down to one essential ingredient she calls 'grit' or “the perseverance and passion for a long-term goal”. Grit is single-mindedness, unwavering dedication, whatever the obstacles, no matter how long it takes.

The media largely attributed Obama's victory in the 2012 elections to the use of social media, particularly Facebook, Twitter and texting. Media has always liked hype because it's sexy and it sells. But reality is quite different. US News says: In a memo released just before Election Day, the Obama campaign claimed it had contacted one out of every 2.5 people in the country since the 2008 election, much of it through personal phone calls or knocking on doors. That number is far and above the 50 million voter contacts the Romney campaign has cited. "The best data for us was things we collected at the doors," Obama campaign manager Jim Messina said. Additionally, Obama.org says that 10,000 volunteers knocked on 7 million doors on the day before the election. Now, that's grit.

And the moral of the story? One might be self-righteously indignant, or even right, but if the message is not sent out, you drop the ball. The urban middle-class can whip themselves up into a frenzy on Facebook, Twitter and other social media where broadband is ubiquitous, but in the rural areas it is done the old fashioned way -- at coffee shops, weddings, births, deaths, circumcisions, thanksgiving religious ceremonies, prayer meetings, kenduris, etc., where any politician worth his salt shows up and becomes part of the community. There is nothing like a real connection. A friend, an expatriate, sent me a photo of a kampong about three weeks before the last elections. It looked like the entire village had been gift-wrapped in blue. Even a cockroach wouldn't have been able to penetrate that fortress if it was not wearing blue. One look at the photograph and I realised that the game was up. I guessed rightly who was going to win this one, whatever the hype.

Nobody like to lose. Supporters of the losing team in football will accuse the referees of bias and/or incompetence, accuse the opponents of 'not playing the ball', and claim they were unfairly denied a penalty. A neutral observer might sympathise with the last if the difference was one goal. What if it is 44? 45 penalties? Can anyone score from every one of them? Or were you simply not prepared, being caught up in the social network hype, and didn't train hard enough?

Did you drop the ball?

Why I don't own a mobile phone

 
I hope this clarifies the question once and for all, though it probably will not. I'm the one without the mobile phone, but my friends, for some reason, are the ones who feel the pain. Some have been on a virtual crusade, with the evangelical zeal of Jehovah Witnesses, to 'save' the recalcitrant non-believer. Others take delight in saying, "I told you so," at the slightest inconvenience arising from my 'stubbornness'.

Truth is, stubbornness has nothing to do with it. I simply value my time and sanity more than others do, I guess. I did own a mobile phone some twelve years ago, but then someone did me a favour by stealing it. I have never been more thankful since.

First, a quantitative analysis. To say that the mobile phone is a 'bloody waste of time' would be an understatement. Let's assume that one makes five phone calls a day, and receives another five. If each call takes ten minutes, that would result in 100 minutes a day spent talking on that stupid instrument. Do I have one hour and forty minutes to waste everyday? What do you think? No, I don't play golf, either. What if each call takes 15 minutes? 20, 25, 30 minutes? (I know of people who can talk for up to an hour each time!) You have a calculator? Figure it out. I think my time and my life is far more important than that. Furthermore, I think it should be made a criminal offense to talk more than one minute on the phone during any call, and waste other people's time. A mandatory death sentence should do it.

Next, a qualitative assessment. It's eight thirty in the morning and I'm in the toilet, doing whatever it is that people do in toilets. The phone rings in the bedroom. Ring! Ring! Pick me up, pick me up! Right now, you moron! Right now! I ignore it, but it has already annoyed me. Then it stops. Thank God, I think. Then, a minute later it starts again. Same thing. Ring! Ring! Pick me up, pick me up! Right now, you moron! "Damn it," I swear, hurry up, wrap a towel around my waist and go out. "Has someone died?" I want to scream into the phone, but I know I will not, because I don't want a divorce, and I'm not that badly brought up, although sometimes I wish I was. Besides, if someone was already dead, it wouldn't be urgent, would it? Anyway, I'm sure the call is not be important, and it isn't. (99% of all calls are not important, in my estimate.)

The mobile phone is the new ball and chain, the electronic ankle bracelet. It is the new dog collar of management. We had a temp called Mohan one time; a delightful young man with some other qualities as well. One day he came to work with a brand new mobile phone. (He didn't have any before.) "My girlfriend bought it for me," he explained sheepishly. "Hahaha! You're dead, man! Your girlfriend has just put a dog collar around your neck." "I know," he admitted, with even less enthusiasm.

Bosses like their employees in dog collars. No matter how shiny they are, how many games you can play on them, or videos you can watch, and no matter what else it can do with them, they are nothing more than dog collars, man. If your boss wants to unload a monkey onto your shoulders at 2 o'clock in the morning, or whenever, you're 'it' man! That's what mobiles phones are for. Passing monkeys. Slightest problem? Scroll down the 'contacts' list and look for someone to unload it on. Bosses, friends, relatives: they all do it. "It's their problem, now. I've done my job." Have they? What do you do when someone unloads a monkey on you? Scroll down name list and pass in on as quickly as you can. And on, and on, and on in an endless game of shirking responsibility.

As for me, I'm not playing that game anymore. Send me an email. I strongly believe that the email is a most civilised form of communication. It allows the recipient to respond in good time without being impolite, giving the person sufficient space to think of a reply. That's why I hate it when some insist I speak to them on the phone about their manuscripts, and call my staff all sorts of names when they can't.  Look, send me your manuscripts by email, okay? I'll will read it (promise) and reply. If it's suitable, I'll say yes. If not, I'll say it's not suitable for our list. No amount of snake-oil salesmanship over the phone (or in person) is going to make me change my mind. It will only annoy me and take me off the work I'm focusing. (Note to writers: do yourself a favour by not annoying potential publishers.)

Yes, I'm focused when I work. Like hell, I do. In fact, I get so zoned out when I'm doing something, that I jump when the  phone rings. There's nothing worse than a telephone call to interrupt a creative thought process. Now, double that with the annoying sales pitch from the other end and my endless struggle to remain polite. Triple that for time required for recovery and getting back to work, usually 20 minutes. Now, calculate the amount of productive time wasted.

Multitasking? I don't believe that's even possible. (Sorry, fire-fighting is not multitasking. It's only one task -- passing monkeys around. See above.) I like to do only one thing at a time and give it all. (But that doesn't mean I cannot work on five different projects simultaneously -- when I'm on one, the others don't remain in my head; I have an on/off that works.)

Okay, a confession: I was tempted like hell when the iPhone first came out, because I am a gadget junkie, and have been an Apple user since the late seventies. But, was it something I wanted? If truth be told, I was quite disappointed with my favourite tech company. It was like the time when Bobby McFerrin sold out and went commercial with Don't Worry Be Happy, and all the plebeians lapped it up, having never heard of his Blue Note records.

I now have an iPod Touch, which is really an iPhone without the phone. Problem solved.

Censorship in Malaysia

A news report in FMT on March 23 said that Berjaya Books Sdn Bhd, which owns the Borders bookstores in Malaysia, and two others today succeeded in their attempt to quash the decision by the Federal Territory Islamic Department (Jawi) over the seizure of Irshad Manji’s Allah, Kebebasan dan Cinta in May last year.

Justice Zaleha Yusof said at the time of Jawi’s action, the book was not subjected to the prohibitory order that was only issued three weeks later.

So is that the end of another sordid episode in the annals of book publishing in the country? Not by a mile, no!

Store manager Nik Raina Abdul Aziz still has a Syariah court case pending: she was charged on June 19, last year, with distributing and selling the book, said to contravene Islamic law, at the Borders Bookstore, The Gardens Mall, between 8.41pm and 9.45pm on May 23 – before the book was 'banned'! (The copy of the Gazette notification that we have is dated May 29.)

This story might illustrate why Silverfish Books had a visitation from two officers (no names mentioned) from JAKIM, the federal religious police who were polite and threatening at the same time. One of them asked why we were still selling the Irshad Manji book. My reply was that a book was not banned until it was signed off by the minister and gazetted. I said we'd follow the law stop selling the book once it was, but not until then. Then the officer asked if I knew that if we had a Muslim staff working for us they'd arrest him or her and charge them with selling the book even, if they were only employees. I was furious, but there was nothing I could, except stare at them. There was nothing they could do either, except stare back.

That afternoon two others showed up panting up the stairs, this time from the Home Ministry, with a copy of the gazette notification (of which they gave us a copy), and we surrendered our copies of Allah, Kebebasan dan Cinta.

Freedom to Publish

I got an email last month from an organisation called Freedom to Publish, a program of the International Publishers Association (IPA) asking some question regarding censorship in Malaysia under the Universal Periodical Review (UPR) Working Group of the UN Human Rights Council mechanism that reviews the human rights records of all UN Member States. It was one of those emails that made one want to cry and laugh at the same time. Another survey by a bunch clueless civil-servant box-tickers, I thought.  Do they have law A? Yes. Tick. Do they have Law B? No. No tick. Jeez! Equating the existence of laws to human rights is like equating elections to democracy. How naive can one get?

This is a gist of my reply:

1. There is censorship by law, where the publications that are judged prejudicial to public order are proscribed by the Home Minister after a debate, or none.  Most bookshops will not carry books on the list (not openly anyway), but as the list gets longer it becomes more difficult to comply.

2. Censorship by harassment. Government employees walk into bookshops and seize books which they (arbitrarily) deem offensive, not necessarily on the list. The newspapers will carry the stories, and all other bookstores will start to act defensively by removing them from their shelves, effectively 'banning' the title. When confronted, the Minister will argue that the books are being investigated, after which the matter will be duly forgotten. (Yes, it's that predictable.) If a bookseller or dealer protests, he can be punished by arbitrary withholding of his future shipments at the customs, inspect every single one of his 100,000 titles, with more raids at the bookstore designed to scare away customers, having all his mail scrutinized, and more.

3. Censorship by refusal to protect the victimized. This case was highlighted when the office of the publisher of the Malay translation of a book by Canadian writer Irshad Manji was 'raided' by a group of twenty from a religious department. This was clearly illegal intimidation, but the authorities refused to take action, or to protect the publisher. Most publishers, booksellers and distributors in the country live in fear of arbitrary seizure and prosecution, and know that they cannot depend on protection from the Government, and, worse still, could be subjected to more harassment.

4. Censorship by those who consider themselves the law, whose actions the Minister is indifferent or afraid to question. A Heinemann, 1992,  edition of The Prophet by Khalil Gibran is banned in Malaysia. (So, technically, only that edition is banned.) Silverfish Books imported 300 books (other titles) by Khalil Gibran and had them all seized by the Home Ministry officers at the airport once (who made several unmentionable remarks about the ministers and the PM of the time). Later, we got a a letter from the Home Ministry saying that all the titles had been proscribed (although none of them were on the 'banned' list). We never saw the books again (nor did any of the titles show up on the infamous 'list'). Knowing the consequences of further protest we decided to accept our 'fate'. (An inside source told us that someone in the Ministry didn't like how the books were written. A literary critic in the Home Ministry! Brilliant!)

Human rights

Censorship laws exist in Malaysia like in many other countries. One could argue about it, say it's out of date, call the censorship board names, or whatever, but unless a major change, or enlightenment process takes place, there's nothing one can do about it. It's something that will be fought over for a long time. What is of more concern are those who operate from outside the law.

First, we have outlaws, those criminal types, both blue and white collar; pirate DVD sellers, drug dealers, illegal bookies, conmen, bribe takers, robbers, buglers  ... you get the idea. Their operations are clear-cut. They fight to win too, but they know they are breaking the law and are prepared for the consequences if they lose.

Second, are those who believe they are above the law, that they can get away with anything, that they have so much influence that they are untouchable.

Third, there are those who think they are the law. Like little governments within a government. Like pocket Napoleons out of control. Like warlords with private armies. In the case above, Nik Raina Abdul Aziz was randomly victimised and mentally traumatised, one of many. Those who victimised her will not be punished. Nothing will happen to them, because they don't think they are not obliged to follow the law, because they are not accountable, because they are only 'doing their job', because those in power don't have the testicular fortitude to stop them. They will go on to victimise others, and the whole process will be repeated (as we have seen in the past). But so what?

What's worse is the Malaysian civil service mindset that anyone running any business is kaya, so it's all right to inconvenience them, or if they lose some money. It's only an extra cost for doing business. (So, is it a surprise that so many look for jalan to kow thim?) They don't know, and don't want to know, what a struggle it really is.

Should have been a pirate DVD seller. The only requirement would have been coloured hair-dye and some bribes.

The rules for illegal businesses are clearer. Those who live by the law, will continue to live in disgrace.

(The record of the gazette notification can be seen here amongst a total of 1519 titles, including Conan Saga Vol.1, No. 27 July 1989. You can read a story about it in The Malaysian Insider story here.)