The Ardent Heart

I knew J.D. Salinger. But he did not know me. I could not call him up whenever I felt like it. No one could. Because I knew J.D. Salinger like you knew him, the way he wanted to be known, through his work.

Umapagan Ampikaipakan mourns the passing of a favourite author in The New Straits Times, and he remembers how he read Catcher in the Rye at 13 :

I did not know J.D. Salinger then. All I knew was what some kid told me at school. He told me that John Lennon was dead, that someone had killed him, and that he done so after reading this particular book. ... For weeks afterwards, I would pore over the 192 pages of my tattered red and white Penguin edition, scanning through its minuscule 10-point font, for hidden messages, for secret codes. For something, anything, that would inspire murder. I read it forwards. I read it backwards. Needless to say, I discovered very little.

I remember reading the novel when I wasn't much older (probably 15 - in those days I had a very long bus journey to school and that was my perfect reading time). It was the quintessential teenage novel, the one that you had to read. 

But it was only last year that I came across his short fiction in Nine Stories (a tatty copy that Dina Zaman wanted "rehomed") and would consider myself haunted by the stories (particularly the autobiographical For Esme With Love and Squalor) and hungry for more.

Much of his short fiction though remains unpublished and there is also the hope (probably unfounded)  that there may be some unpublished works in his safe that  could at last see light of day. I hope so.

Do read Adam Gopnik's moving piece about Salinger in The New Yorker. As he quite rightly says  :

Writing, real writing, is done not from some seat of fussy moral judgment but with the eye and ear and heart; no American writer will ever have a more alert ear, a more attentive eye, or a more ardent heart than his.

(Pic from The New Yorker)

An Uncle’s Legacy

What did I learn from Uncle Shah? ... To be proud of being a writer because when it is done well, it touches the lives of others. To be fearless when stepping into unfamiliar territory because you never know what you will find. To be stubborn and stand up for what you believe in because, at the end of the day, that’s what really matters.

Dzof Azmi pays tribute to his uncle, Shahriza Hussein, in Starmag today with a very moving piece.

I was never sure how much of the story in Legacy was fact, and how much fiction. Shahriza actually denied that it was his own family history being retold, when I asked him about it. But  Dzof says :

Legacy is based on what he had learned about our family, passed on through the generations. My grandfather (Uncle Shah’s father) had once told me that if it wasn’t for his grandfather being cheated of some inheritance, we would still be part of a royal lineage. The novel goes some way in explaining what could have happened.

I like the way that Shah asked Dzoh to write the screenplay. The novel would translate wonderfully to the big screen, so I do hope he takes up the challenge.

Shahriza Hussein Passes Away

I just received the sad news from his daughter, Narissa, that Legacy author Shahriza Hussein passed away on the 23rd January following a fall. He was admitted into ICU under sedation and then passed away two days later. Narissa says that the ultimate cause of his death was attributed to heart failure, and he passed away peacefully.

Shahriza had been unwell for some time, and those of you who came to Readings@Seksan in June 2008 will remember how frail he was then and how his friend, Yew Lie, read for him.  (Mind you, he was chain smoking in the background.)

My love and condolence goes to his family. I had not known him or his wife Sermsuk long, but they became immediate friends when I went to the house to collect a copy of his novel. I liked his slight curmudgeonliness (which reminded me of my own grouchy, but funny, other half), his keen intelligence, and the mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

Legacy remains HIS legacy, and it is a local novel well worth reading.

The plot is set in motion by the killing of Birch, and his pocket watch falling into the hands of Mastura, a member of the Perak royal family, who vows to return it to the rightful owners. It follows Mastura and her descendants through 80 tumultuous years of Malaysian history, culminating in Independence. 

One of the great pleasures of the book is the way it brings alive real historical characters and pivotal scenes from Malaysia's past - here's Birch marooned on a sandbank in the Perak River,  here's Swettenham at Carcosa, here's a meeting about the drainage problems of Kampong Baru.  The novel is meticulously researched and he quite effortlessly opens a door and lets you slip back in time. I learned such a lot and am deeply grateful. 

But it is no stuffy historical tome, and there is plenty of dramatic incident to keep the plot rolling nicely. There's also a very pleasing old school correctness about the prose - the author cared deeply about his craft and for the English language.  (Incidentally,  was also an educationalist and wrote the 322 Communicative English language syllabus that was used in all secondary schools.)

If there is a problem with the book it is that the plot is rather tugged along, because of the authors desire to cover all significant historical events. My own feeling is that it really should have been published as two books and more time and space given to fleshing out the characters. "Pare back, and deepen" is what I would have said to Shahriza if I'd been sitting on the other side of the editor's desk. Sometimes too the book doesn't wear its historical didacticism very well - there are substantial chunks of background at the beginnings of each chapter which are a bit indigestible.

But I do think that this is one of the most important locally written books of the past few years, and I hope that in the long term it wins the recognition that it deserves.

You can find an extract here and Amir Muhammad wrote an excellent review of the novel.

I still have some copies of the book to sell, the money goes to Sermsuk, and I will bring them to readings on 30th January.

The Passing of a Palestinian Hero

It was as early as 1950 that the poet first realized how the poem can be “a threat to the sword” as he was harassed by the Israeli military governor for writing and reciting poetry that expressed his strong sense of Arab and Palestinian identity.

Palestinian president Mahmoud Abbas declared three days of mourning on Sunday after Mahmoud Darwish, the poet who gave a voice to the Palestinian people died aged 67 in Houston, Texas, after complications with heart surgery.

Darwish was considered one of the great contemporary Arab poets, and will be given a state funeral today, the first since Yasir Arafat died in 2004.

The words above come from a profile on his website. There are also articles about him in the New York Times, and in the Guardian. Some of his poems in translation can be found here.

(Pic from NYT shows crowds mourning in Ramallah.)

Left, but Not Forgotten

I wanted to blog about Rustam Sani, academic, intellectual, writer and blogger, when I read that he had passed away in April. But I didn't know much about him, or his work at that time. (One of the great ironies of life is that you often only hear of people you'd have liked to have known better when you read their obituaries!)

As luck would have it, Mark Disney has given me permission to reproduce his piece from Prospect magazine. The book reviews are to follow.

Three days before he was due to launch his two most recent books at the Shah Alam library – ‘Social Roots of the Malay Left’ and ‘Failed Nation? Concerns of a Malaysian Nationalist’, Rustam Sani passed away without warning at home at the too-young age of 63.

Local newspapers, the TV stations and websites duly paid homage to his contributions to the fabric of Malaysian intellectual life, and the book launch, which went ahead with his family’s blessing, was attended by a throng of politicians, academics, friends and sympathisers torn between commiseration for the loss of a leading academic light and celebration of his scholarly and literary achievements.

Impossibly impartial

Before we get to the books in question, I ought, for the sake of (im)partiality, to declare my own interest in the man and his works. Rustam was my uncle and I knew him well over the past 16 years as a familiar and jocular family figure rather than as a social or political commentator.

Our first encounter was at my wedding in 1992, when he was the spokesman for the Malay side of the family. At that time I was understandably unaware of his anti-colonial sympathies and therefore sat in bemused silence as he proceeded to gently mock my wife’s unfortunate choice of an English husband. He would, no doubt, have been struck by the irony that the day of his passing was April 23rd – St George’s Day and Shakespeare’s birthday. Of course, this makes it almost impossible to offer an unbiased opinion of the individual, or to review his books with the objectivity that he himself would have demanded.

Interested and amused

Although he was a well-known figure on the ‘Malay Left’ and was easily recognised for his distinctive voice in the blog, Vox Populi, from countless articles in local and regional newspapers, and on TV talk shows, he always struck me as a political moderate; a fair and objective observer of the local political scene. If he was angry or disillusioned with the anti-intellectual and authoritarian bent of Malaysian political life, he never showed it – or perhaps I never noticed it.

He seemed able to maintain an amused and amusing, as well as an interested and interesting perspective on local developments, and was far from being the ‘leftist firebrand’ that his father, Ahmad Boestamam, by all accounts was. He was obviously affected by the lengthy prison spells that his father suffered for his political beliefs in both the pre- and post-independence periods and therefore chose academia rather than agitation as a vehicle for expressing his views on the state and direction of the nation. He cared passionately about Malay language, literature, culture and politics, but from my perspective, Rustam was always a listener rather than a talker, a writer rather than a demagogue.

Kawan, Kawan

Perhaps this academic detachment was one of his strengths and one of the reasons why he continued to command respect from across the political spectrum, despite his association with Parti Rakyat Malaysia, and even after he became linked with the Reformasi movement in the late 1990s. The huge crowd that turned out at the book launch (seldom big occasions in Malaysia) clearly admired the work, but more touching, at least to me, was their obvious regard for the man. It was refreshing that despite the appearance of a number of VIPs like Anwar Ibrahim and the Selangor Menteri Besar, Khalid Ibrahim, the interminable refrain of “Tan Sri, Tan Sri, Datuk, Datuk” was replaced with the solidarity of “Saudera, Saudera, Kawan, Kawan.” Rustam would have approved.

The launch lasted more than two hours with a succession of speakers recalling his life and times. Syed Husin Ali, the former UM academic and President of PKR, gave a biographical account of his academic and political input; the national laureate, Samad Said, spoke about his literary endeavours (he wrote poetry and short stories and was the first to translate Tolstoy, Conrad and Maupassant into Malay); and Hishamuddin Rais, the political activist, recalled meeting him at UM’s Socialist Club in 1971 before bumping into a smartly dressed Rustam at a Reformasi rally almost 30 years later - “nobody but Rustam would go to a demo in batik shirt and leather shoes!”

Anwar Ibrahim spoke at length about Rustam’s intellectual contributions and even the Prime Minister, Abdullah Badawi and his deputy, Najib Tun Razak, sent their private condolences to the family. Perhaps the best summaries came from the Australian academic Clive Kessler, whose wife Noraini Othman, spoke glowingly on behalf of her husband of, “A Malay who was cosmopolitan, open-minded, fearless, as well as grounded in Malay culture. This is not just a loss to his family but to the wider family of Malaysia.” His son and daughter, Azi and Rinnie, concluded the speeches, with Azi observing that Rustam was never a complainer or a wanton critic, but a man who wrote simply and constructively for the masses. He finished with an observation endorsed by everyone who feels that combination of fondness for, and frustration with, modern Malaysia; it is an epitaph that serves as an appropriate introduction to his writings: “He knew that we could all do much better.”

Biodata :

• Rustam Sani (11/8/1944 – 23/4/2008)
• Born in Ipoh
• Tanjung Malim School and Victoria Institute
• Universiti Malaya 1967-70 (Malay Studies)
• Universiti Malaya – Lecturer in translation theory
• Further studies at the universities of Reading, Canterbury and Yale
• Universiti Kebangsaan Malaysia – Lecturer in Anthropology & Sociology
• Universiti Kebangsaan Malaysia 1988-90 – Associate Prof in Political Science
• Recipient of the Hadiah Sastera Negara 1989
• ISIS 1990-95 – Senior Fellow
• Universiti Malaya 1997-99 – Centre for Civilisational Dialogue

Arthur C Clarke Goes Back to the Stars

Sci-fi legend, the visionary Arthur C. Clarke has died at his home in Sri Lanka aged 90 after experiencing breathing problems. He had been battling post-polio syndrome for half a lifetime.

Clarke was the author of more than 100 books, including 33 novels, the most famous of which is 2001: A Space Odyssey; as well as short-story collections and non-fiction.

Gerald Jonas pens his obituary in the New York Times. Worth reading too on his life and work is this Wikipedia entry.

I will link to other tributes to Clarke as they come online.

Remembering Lloyd

Kee Thuan Chye refers to his friend Lloyd Fernando in today's Starmag as :

... truly a scholar and a gentleman ... a man of grace and polish ... (who) loved literature and imparted his knowledge to his students with such passion that it made an indelible impact on their lives

He describes how Lloyd achieved his own education under difficult circumstances, migrating with his family from Sri Lanka when he was 12, and then during the war years having to work at a succession of menial jobs (including trishaw rider - can you imagine?) before he could continue his studies.

He completed his Senior Cambridge exam, and then worked as a teacher before he was able to enter university at the age of 29 and became an assistant lecturer at Universiti Malaya. He did a PhD with Leeds university and became a full professor in 1967. (Later of course he also became a lawyer and set up in practice.)

His contribution to Malaysian literature was enormous :

He was really the only person at the time visibly promoting new writing in English. He edited the landmark anthology 22 Malaysian Stories (1962) that gave recognition to fiction writers, the most outstanding of whom was Lee Kok Liang. Deservedly, that volume has seen numerous reprints and been adopted as a text in literature classes. It was even reissued more than 40 years later, in 2005.

Lloyd also brought attention to Malaysian playwrights. He edited New Drama One and New Drama Two (both published in 1972), which presented the works of Lee Joo For, Edward Dorall, Syed Alwi, and others. Without these two volumes, some of the plays of our pioneering playwrights might have now been lost.

Chye goes on to talk about how Lloyd:

... often spoke about his vision of a multicultural Malaysia transcending race and religion. That was something we had in common, together with our concern for racial integration and equality.

He dealt with these themes in his novels, Scorpion Orchid (1976) and Green Is the Colour (1993). Some have criticised his style as being too academic in its detachment, but the message shines through nonetheless.

I regard the novels as two of the most important works of Malaysian fiction in any language. They came from a writer who loved his country enough to advocate eschewing narrow tribal concerns in favour of humanism and harmony.

Lloyd once told me that one of the challenges he encountered in his writing was his constant attempt to find ways of expressing himself in English without sounding “English English”. He avoided stock epithets and turns of phrase. He strove for Malaysian inflection. Those who mistook him for a patrician professor of English – no doubt reinforced at one time by his pipe-smoking penchant – never saw the colloquial Malaysian side of Lloyd.

I think Shirley Lim's tribute to him is particularly apt :

If Malaysia had more like him, our history would have been very different, and as a people and a nation we would be in a much better position.

Professor Lim Chee Seng in the New Sunday Times calls Lloyd :

... the man who can be said to have shaped the Department of English at the country’s oldest university. He also calls him a literary activist (a term I really love) and mentions his setting up of the Malaysian Association for Commonwealth literature and Language Studies (MACLALS) which is still active to this day.

He says of Scorpion Orchid and Green is the Colour :

These novels focused on the theme of nation in ways which stimulated thinking on the urgent questions of what it means to be a Malaysian and how significant it is to be thoughtful in approaching the issues of living together in a multicultural society, in which demagogues and propagandists can sometimes usurp and sometimes distort the public discourse about the profoundly important issue of building the nation in prosperity and harmony.

Prof Lim says that he intendeds to celebrate Lloyd's life and work with a

... festschrift* volume with the working title, Essays In Honour Of Lloyd Fernando, which will feature academic essays, poems, reminiscences and even photographic work to honour a deeply influential and much loved professor, novelist, friend, husband and father.

And I reckon the best way for the rest of us to commemorate Lloyd is to read his novels.

(Ignoramus me didn't know what this word meant and had to look it up.)

Lloyd Fernando Passes Away

I just got news from Kee Thuan Chye that author/playwright Lloyd Fernando, passed away last night. Even as we speak words of tribute are being written by his friends, and I will be linking to those over the next few days.

Lloyd spent the last 11 years of his life wheelchair bound after a major stroke. I met him just once before that, and was impressed with his warmth and sincerity.

My condolences and love to his wife, Marie, and daughters Eva and Sunetra.

Postscript :

Zedeck on the Kakiseni blog remembers him through his work :

I read Green is the Colour in one sleepless night, and while I did not completely enjoy it, it affected me more than I had anticipated. I grew up with 22 Malaysian Stories in my family library, and it was the very first artifact of Malaysian English-language literature I consumed.

Raman in his obituary on the Silverfish website :

You have done your bit and you will never be forgotten. It will be for us to carry on. You made have that a little easier though.

Norman Mailer Dies

American author Norman Mailer passed away, aged 84, on Saturday.

Mailer, who was both a journalist and novelist, is profiled in obituaries by James Cambell in the Guardian and Charles McGrath in the New York Times. There's a lovely compilation of anecdotes about Mailer on the salon.com website.

Mailer it seems was the original celebrity author, in a an age where writers generally kept a low profile, and there's lots of colourful stuff in his life including (according to A.O. Scott in an essay for Salon.com):

... six marriages, the failed campaign for mayor of New York, the fistfights, the wife-stabbing, the disastrous forays into filmmaking, and the political grandstanding ...

all of which threatened at the time to overshadow his contribution to literature.

Mailer wrote some 30 books, among them The Naked and the Dead, a partly autobiographical novel about World War II, and his non-fiction novel The Executioner's Song based on the life of the murderer Gary Gilmore, executed in 1977, the first person to suffer the death penalty in the US after a four-year moratorium.

He won the Pulitzer twice, as well as the National Book Award, and is credited with transforming American journalism by introducing the techniques of the novelist.

Time for some of us to discover him!

L'Engle Dies

Author Madeleine L’Engle has died aged 88. She best known for her 1963 children’s classic A Wrinkle in Time which won the Newbery Medal and has sold 8 million copies. Douglas Martin writes her obituary in The New York Times.

The book has the distinction of being one of the most banned book in the United States: she was

... accused by religious conservatives of offering an inaccurate portrayal of God and nurturing in the young an unholy belief in myth and fantasy.

It also began with one of the most famous first lines in literature:

It was a dark and stormy night ...

The Passing of Grace Paley

In the New York Times Margalit Fox pays tribute to Grace Paley, one of American's greatest short story writers, who died this week aged 84.

Fox notes that:

Ms. Paley’s output was modest, about four-dozen stories in three volumes ... But she attracted a devoted following and was widely praised by critics for her pitch-perfect dialogue, which managed at once to be surgically spare and almost unimaginably rich. ... Ms. Paley’s stories short on plot, and much of what happens is that nothing much happens. Affairs begin, babies are born, affairs end. But that was the point. In Ms. Paley’s best stories, the language is so immediate, the characters so authentic, that the text is propelled by an innate urgency — the kind that makes readers ask, “And then what happened?”

There are a couple of excellent interviews with Paley about the craft of writing on the salon.com website, one here and the other here.

And if you want to discover Paley's work for yourself, all her stories have been collected into one volume.

Postscript:

The god of bookaholics was looking down on me this evening!

I had just been chatting to Eric about Grace Paley (he blogged about her here) and both of us were saying we wanted collected stories so much but that it would probably be a while before we saw it here.

I said goodbye to him, strolled out of MPH. Saw Pay Less books with racks of second hand books in the concourse. And spotted the book immediately.

With 70% off and in mint condition!!!

Sheldon Shuffles Off This Mortal Coil

In the comments to the last post seems that everyone wanted to talk about Sidney Sheldon's passing on. (Hey, should readers dictate the contents of a blog? ... Oh, all right then.)

Sheldon died on Tuesday from complications from pneumonia. His best known novels included Rage of Angels, The Other Side of Midnight, and If Tomorrow Comes. Several of his novels became TV miniseries.

Sheldon called writing novels:

... the most fun I've ever had ...

and said in a 1982 interview:

I try to write my books so the reader can't put them down. ... I try to construct them so when the reader gets to the end of a chapter, he or she has to read just one more chapter. It's the technique of the old Saturday afternoon serial: Leave the guy hanging on the edge of the cliff at the end of the chapter.

He said of his strong female characters:

I like to write about women who are talented and capable, but most important, retain their femininity. ... Women have tremendous power - their femininity, because men can't do without it.

(Right!)

And I hadn't realised that Sheldon didn't start writing novels until he was 50!

(Still time for me then.)

I was too much of a booksnob in those days to read Sheldon's novels, (though I'm sure I must have watched the miniseries). And I probably missed out because of that.