Recently in Books & reading Category

Was scheduled for a medical check-up yesterday and intended to bring a book along with me, only I forgot to grab said book in the mad dash out of the house in the morning. I was dismayed... I don't like waiting, and the only way waiting can be made palatable is if I have a book to read. Otherwise I fidget, send text messages on my phone, watch other people around me, or daydream.

However, I was elated to discover that I had a book in my car. Plus, it was one which I'd planned to read but hadn't yet gotten down to reading (something that can be said of 80% of my books!). I snatched it from the back seat of my car and walked into the clinic.

As it turns out, I had ample time to savour the book, since I spent four hours at the clinic. Unfortunately, I soon realised that the book was making the waiting more difficult, rather than helping me to while the time away!

What's really sad is that Don't Sit On This Book: A Collection of Chinese Taboos ought to be an interesting read. I'm Chinese, but my family has never practiced many of the old Chinese traditions and superstitions, so I thought this book might fill in the blanks for me. Give me a better understanding of Chinese culture. Show me where I'm from. And provide me with interesting bits of trivia.

Too bad the trivia and interesting information got lost and buried in the writing style.

Take the opening paragraphs, for example. Almost every description of a taboo, superstition, or belief starts out with a general statement; a discussion of Chinese New Year beliefs and traditions opens with the paragraph,

Even in the age of e-commerce and space travel, the Chinese community has retained their penchant for celebrations and merry-making. (page 188)

General opening statements such as this are boring and unhelpful. They don't give the reader any idea of what's coming next, or what the essay is about; they don't draw the reader in and make him want to find out more; they don't tell the reader anything he doesn't already know. It's a lousy way to begin an essay.

Let's say the reader decides to brave the uninspiring opening paragraph in the hope that the best is yet to come. He'll then discover that the writer seems to have some sort of aversion to paragraphs that are more than three sentences long. I'm not kidding -- the paragraphs in this book are so short that they sound like bullets, which in turn causes the style of writing to be choppy and difficult to read, never mind enjoy. Let's go back to the Chinese New Year essay:

After the elaborate reunion dinner, the elders must present the younger generation with money-filled red packets or 'ang-pows'. Children and youngsters will be happy to receive the red packets.

However, the money is not to be used. It is for depositing into the piggy bank. The reason is, it is a taboo to have an empty piggy bank on the eve of the Chinese New Year.

After putting the money in, one should also stick a piece of red paper with the Chinese characters 'always full' on it. This way, you may be blessed with a constant supply of spending money throughout the coming year. (page 189)

Facts, facts, facts. Dry facts. It sounds like a newspaper report. The same short paragraphs with bullet-like bite-sized information. No narrative, no story, no elaboration. No flow.

The lack of flow is exacerbated by the inappropriate use of tenses and lack of adequate description or explanation. "Children and youngsters will be happy to receive the red packets"? Of course they'd be happy! Which child doesn't enjoy receiving gifts? Instead of wasting space with that completely irrelevant remark, the writer could have inserted a short explanation of the history of ang pows, like how they came to be given out in the first place and why the money is always packaged in red envelopes. Why not yellow envelopes? Or blue? Or orange? It would also have been helpful to note that only married people are expected to give ang pow; singles (no matter what age they might be) are exempt. Again, I'd love to know why this is. I'm probably going to have to google it.

I would've liked more stories about ancient China, how certain practices originated and evolved, why they are still considered important today. Don't just give me a statement like, "It is a taboo to bathe, shower or wash your hair on the first day of the Chinese New Year." I know that. What I want to know is why it is a taboo! The lack of explanation makes me think that the writer did not research the topic thoroughly; if one aims to give others a better understanding of Chinese culture (as is stated in the book's Preface), then explanations -- not just dry facts -- are necessary. Facts are well and good but a lone fact seldom helps anyone to understand anything.

In some places, the taboos are not even presented as fact; they are put forward in such a way as to sound like instructions or commands:

Never go empty-handed when visiting. Fresh bouquets and health food and beverages are appropriate get-well presents. Fruit are also popular gifts. However, please remember not to offer pears as get-well presents. Pears are not appropriate according to Chinese customs. (page 115)

I found this terribly off-putting. If you're describing a custom, you should say so. How hard is it to write, "The Chinese believe that it is rude to go empty-handed when visiting a friend"? But nooooo, instead it sounds as if the writer is trying to give orders to his readers. Eek.

All in all, it was a sadly disappointing book. There are lots of non-fiction books out there which succeed in being both informative and entertaining; unfortunately, this wasn't one of them.

I grew up reading Reader's Digest. When I got my hands on the latest issue, I'd always flip to the funnies first -- Laughter, the Best Medicine, Life's Like That, All in a Day's Work, and Humor in Uniform. Much like how, when presented with a newspaper, I always flip to the comics first. I just like things that make me laugh, y'know?

The cool thing about the Reader's Digest was -- and still is -- all the little anecdotes scattered through it. After reading the funnies, I'd flip through page by page, looking for the other funnies. Then I'd read Quotable Quotes and Points to Ponder. After that I'd go through the articles, winding things up with Drama in Real Life just before finishing with the longest one, the Book Section.

I normally do have a system, even if I look like I don't!

Today's Reader's Digest somehow just isn't the same. It's not as funny or as heartwarming and insightful as before; it's also thinner, and seems to have less content. When I was in my mid-teens, my parents stopped subscribing to it for that very reason, and Dad began subscribing to National Geographic instead. I didn't always read the National Geographic articles, but I was fascinated by their gorgeous pictures.

There are very few things from your childhood that you can go back to and find still as captivating as before, but the Reader's Digest seems to be one of them. I'm re-reading some of the old issues and laughing just as much at the jokes as I used to. Luckily I don't have a very good memory, so I don't have that "I think I've heard that joke before" feeling to spoil my fun!

 

      Two children were bragging about their intelligence. "When I was eight months old, I could walk," said one. 
      "You call that intelligent?" responded the second child. "When I was that old, I let them carry me."
--Laughter, the Best Medicine, Reader's Digest (September 1994)

Did you know that Louisa May Alcott did not like Huckleberry Finn? In fact, she disliked it so much that she reportedly was instrumental in getting the committee of the Concord Public Library (in the state of Massachusetts) to ban the book from their library.

Basis for the ban? The book's "tawdry subject matter" -- after all, it was a story about a black slave and the son of an alcoholic -- and "the coarse, ignorant language in which it was narrated" -- because it was written in the vernacular, the sort of dialect a young, uneducated boy would use. [source]

The story goes that Twain, upon learning of this ban, proceeded to take out advertisements in newspapers across the country, saying, "My latest book, Huckleberry Finn, by Mark Twain, has been banned in the state of Massachusetts FOR ALL OF ITS DIRTY INCIDENTS." Sales of the book, which had been slow, picked up overnight.

I'm rather sceptical about this advertisement business, though, because I've only been able to find one reference to it, from Elliot Engel in A Dab Of Dickens & A Touch Of Twain. Makes for a good story, but needs more verification.

Nevertheless, I found this little tidbit interesting. Perhaps because it makes Alcott less of a one-dimensional name printed of the cover of a book and brings out her human-ness. But also because I wouldn't have expected her to dislike or criticise the work of another well-loved author. I mean, you'd think she'd recognise good writing when she saw it, considering the fact that she herself wrote so well. But nooooo--!

Moreover, it's astonishing (to me, at least) that she felt so strongly about the book that she even approached the board of the public library to get it banned. Obviously, the book aroused some fierce emotions in her, so fierce that she wasn't content simply to criticise it or write angry letters to the author. She had to Do Something.

Come to think of it, I didn't even know that Alcott and Twain were from the same time period, let alone that they knew of each other. I always somehow think of authors as autonomous entities who churn out books... not as real people who might interact with one another! Especially when their books are as unrelated as Little Women and Huckleberry Finn!

"What? You're done? How can you be done? I haven't even covered the other side yet!" I exclaimed to Lynnee and Erna.

Yep, we were at the Penguin & Pearson warehouse sale yesterday, where I was systematically going down row upon row of books. So as not to miss anything, you know. What to do, I'm kiasu (afraid of losing out). Not to mention a bit OCD at times.

But the place was so hot and stuffy, and my feet were killing me -- I was wearing high-heels because I'd had a meeting in the office that morning -- so in the end I gave up and didn't canvass the entire left portion of the place at all.

Still, I ended up with far more books than I could afford to buy. "I'm only bringing RM100, so I can't spend too much," I'd laughingly told friends. Who knew that, even with that wide a margin, it would be so frustrating?

After much weeding out, I ended up with these:

• Saki because I've wanted a collection of his stories for ages;
• 1984 because it's one of those books I know I should read, but haven't, although of course I know the rough gist of the story;
• In Silence: Why We Pray because prayer is still very much a mystery to me -- our contemporary culture is more au fait with the "God, please bless me, help me to be successful and give us good weather for tomorrow's picnic" type of prayers;
• Poirot In The Orient because it was 3 stories for RM12 and Agatha Christie is a genius;
• So Many Books because it incorporated this quote from Socrates: "If books don't encourage us to live life to the fullest, they are dead";
• Call Me Elizabeth because it's a story of a mother who became an escort to put food on the table for her children; and
• The Gift of Stones, Fascination, Innocent Eréndira and Children Playing Before A Statue Of Hercules because they're short story collections, which are easier for light reading -- plus Gabriel García Márquez is a well-known literary name (more well-known to me than the other three, anyway).

 
The ones that got away:

• Eyeris and Suanie both mentioned seeing Stardust but I couldn't find it, much to my disappointment;
• Erna bought a collection of John Donne's poetry but there was only one copy left  *sobs*;
• Left behind the two Bridget Jones' Diary books because I was over quota, and though they're entertaining it won't kill me not to have them, even if I did kinda identify with Bridget;
• Was contemplating collecting Ian Fleming's works but decided that can wait (what I really want are books by Leslie Charteris, creator of The Saint. Anybody???);
• Gave up Poems & Readings For Funerals because, well, in the balance, I'd rather buy something that makes me happy;
• Discarded Miguel Street by VS Naipaul on Erna's recommendation: "Naipul no need lah. Very hard to read." I thought the premise of the book was fascinating though;
• Placed Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass back on the pile... I do like his poetry, but figured I'd give priority to prose instead.

 
Now to read them all! I haven't even read those I got from the last book sale...

Remember the book I wanted so much, way back in August? I saw it at Big Bookshop yesterday. Going for RM12.

I couldn't believe my eyes!

Of course I grabbed it. It was the last paperback left. The hard cover version was going for RM19.

And what, you might ask, was I doing in Big Bookshop? Err... ah... um...

I've been such a good girl; I even stayed away from the Payless Books warehouse sale last weekend (granted, I was having exams, but did you really think a puny thing like exams could possibly stop me from going to a book sale?!). Yet today I found myself walking into Big Bookshop's warehouse-like outlet in Atria Shopping Centre. Uh-oh.  *cue ominous music*

The good thing is, I only had RM50 in my wallet and was fully cognisant of my stomach's needs -- that is, I still had to buy dinner for myself. And I have been living a plastic-less life since 2003.  *chants: Say no to credit cards!*  So I knew I couldn't splurge, no matter how much I might long to do so. Nothing like economic realities to make a book lover toe the line.

Well, I grabbed Meg Rosoff's Just In Case, like I said earlier, and also picked up Martina Devlin's The Hollow Heart. The latter is a story of the author's experiences with IVF and her longing to conceive. I've always wanted to have children and took for granted the fact that I would eventually meet someone, get married, and have a family with him. At 29, I'm starting to accept the fact that I might never marry, which is okay... but the desire to have a child is something that's inborn, not manufactured, and I'm curious as to how Devlin dealt with it -- ultimately, not only were her attempts at IVF unsuccessful, her marriage also crumbled and fell apart under the strain. Talk about blow upon blow.

Of course, as my father said, "You don't need to have a husband in order to have children," but I can't see myself bringing up a child alone. For one thing, I'd have to be seriously financially secure in order to do so, otherwise I'd be spending all my time trying to provide for him (or her) and end up not having much time to spend with the little one. Parents in dual-income families are already facing the same dilemma; how much worse would it be if one were a single parent?

Anyway, to get back to the point, I walked out of Big Bookstore with those two books. Yes, just two! I'm so proud of myself!  *beams*

Some movie adaptations are so amazing, they make you want to read the book. Or at least, they make you curious about the book, which is close enough.

This afternoon I exited the cinema after seeing Stardust in 1Utama and made a beeline for MPH Bookstore. You see, I remembered Eyeris -- a huge Neil Gaiman fan -- saying that it wouldn't matter whether you were to read the book first or watch the movie first: he said the book wouldn't spoil the movie, neither would the movie spoil the book. I took that to mean that the book would only enhance the movie experience, and that since I liked the movie, I'd probably love the book.

Guess what? I scoured the Fantasy Section and couldn't find the book. In fact, the shelves seemed devoid of anything with Gaiman's name. The only thing I could find was an anthology he had co-edited with someone called Ed Kramer -- The Sandman: Book of Dreams. Way to go, MPH.

Which reminds me... when Lynnee and I went to see Hairspray at The Summit USJ, we were so awed by the music that we went looking for the soundtrack CD as soon as we got out of the cinema. Enquiring at MPH, we were told that not only did they not have it; the person who attended to us said the soundtrack wasn't out yet, but a few days later Lynnee found the CD at Tower Records.

Sounds like somebody in MPH is asleep on the job, if you ask me.

Talking about being asleep on the job... I couldn't believe my eyes when I spied CS Lewis's The Four Loves in the Fantasy Section. Okay, maybe his Space Trilogy is excusable, although it really belongs in the Science Fiction section, but The Four Loves?!? Hello? That's not even FICTION, for crying out loud!

I also found Georgette Heyer's Footsteps in the Dark, Penhallow and The Unfinished Clue shelved in the Romance Section. Yes, Heyer was well-known for her Regency period romances, but she was also well-known as an author of detective fiction. Somebody in MPH really is asleep on the job... do they not even know what kind of books they are purchasing?

At the moment there is no book I want as much as The Art of Punctuation by Noah Lukeman, and to my chagrin it is nowhere to be found in this cosmopolitan city, never mind the entire country. I only saw it once, but I happened to be going through one of my regular "No, you cannot afford another book right now" periods. Then Mr twwt2001 promised to gift it to me for my birthday, but more than a month has gone by and alas, he cannot find the book anywhere.

This is enough to make anyone bawl.

I know my friend the Icy Queen Goddess is horrified at the thought of anyone wanting to read a book on punctuation, of all things, but really, it all depends on how the book is written. Besides, I'm dorky enough to be fascinated by the names of the various symbols. Did you know, for example, that curly brackets -- { and } -- are called braces? And angle brackets -- ‹ and › -- are called chevrons? What do you mean, nobody else is curious about this kind of stuff?

Mind you, it's dangerous to dwell too much on punctuation and like matters. You might end up over-identifying with one of the punctuation marks. Because you see, I am the human personification of the dash. In me, it comes to life.
 

You are the dash.



There's no denying that you have a certain flair. You don't mind being around others, especially your little brother, the hyphen, but you rarely emerge except when needed. You respond well to those who know how to treat you, but have only contempt for those who don't -- you tend to embarass them every chance you get. Your only enemy is the colon -- he will sometimes try to move in on your turf.
Which Punctuation Mark Are You?

I don't remember my parents encouraging me to read. In fact, I distinctly remember them trying to discourage me from reading.

Because I read too much. And would get so engrossed in my books that I'd forget there were things such as house chores and school homework. (Not that I needed much excuse to forget those!)

So my mom was always confiscating my books. My parents would bring my brother and I to the public library to borrow books, then upon reaching home, the books would promptly disappear. "You do your work first, then you can have them," was the common refrain throughout my growing-up years.

Interestingly, I don't recall my parents trying to influence or guide our reading choices, apart from the time when my mom denounced Mills & Boon romance novels as "trash". Other than that, they never told us, "You shouldn't read that" or "You should read this".

It's interesting because my parents themselves read very different kinds of things. At dinnertime, my dad would always finish first and leave the dining table to sit on the sofa, reading the newspaper. After dinner, when my brother and I sat in the study room doing our school homework, he'd join us, reading his medical journals or business magazines. As for my mom, when not busy ironing clothes, cooking, or doing other "mom stuff", she'd usually either be reading the Bible or Christian books she'd borrowed from the church library. They obviously had their own preferred reading material, but neither ever said that one was "better" than the other.

Now that I think about it, my family is fairly bookish, isn't it? I seriously never noticed because... I mean... that's just how things are in my family. I knew we were kinda weird because the television was rarely on in our house (my dad called tv the "idiot box"), but it never struck me that my parents read almost all the time.

I wonder whether reading can possibly be in the genes?

There's something about the Anne of Green Gables books that is so... so... good. Not good in a gripping story kind of way, but good as in wholesome. Reading them renews my sense of optimism. It's difficult to remain cynical in the face of such goodness.

Little Women is just the same. Both tales are built on the same kind of noble ideals. They're really very moral books, yet the two authors -- LM Montgomery and Louisa May Alcott -- succeeded in making their stories moral without being preachy. That's quite an achievement.

The 'little women' (Meg, Jo, Beth and Amy) and Anne all strive to be good, kind, and true... they want to be good, for good's own sake, because that is a worthy goal in itself. In today's world I think that's rather rare; personally, I often want to be good just so that I don't get into trouble, y'know? To escape punishment. Or if not, to look good in front of other people. I'm powerfully motivated by self-interest and so, I'd dare to say, is almost everyone else.

Reading these stories makes me want to be a better person. It makes me want to reach for noble ideals and dream great dreams. It gives me the feeling that I could change the world by being true to myself and living for something above my own wants and desires. It reminds me that every person is precious and special and unique. It causes me to view others with compassion and kindness.

Very, very wholesome. There's simply no other word for those books.

I've been amazingly restrained the whole of this year -- the part that has passed, anyhow. I haven't gone to any of the warehouse book sales, including the Pay Less Books sale that was on this weekend.

This doesn't mean I haven't been buying books, though. I haunt the 1Utama Shopping Centre Pay Less Books outlet incessantly, and yesterday I bought three books from there.

In fact, I'll confess I was weak and foolish and did something I'd never thought I'd do: I deliberately bought copies of books I already have.

The thing is, I did so want to reread them, but they're back in my hometown, and I have no idea when my next trip there will be. Ever since my parents moved to Sabah at the end of 2005, I haven't had much occasion to go home. Visiting the folks is a given, but everything -- my books, old mementos, photographs, letters from teenage pen-pals, high school essays -- all that is back in Sititawan, as far away from Sabah as you can imagine.

Anyway, I consoled myself with the fact that each book only cost RM8, and that I only purchased the first three books in the series, not the entire eight. Eight would have been rather too much, methinks. My conscience (not to mention my wallet) couldn't have stood it.

So I spent the whole of today doing nothing but reading. That's the perfect way to spend a Sunday, if you ask me: curled up on the couch, making the reacquaintance of Anne of Green Gables. It was like being embraced by an old friend, one I had loved a great deal in my girlish youth.