The Damaging Irony of Big Time Bookselling

Foyles is still the acceptable face of bookselling, probably because it is still unlike the predators that are now quietly consuming the book trade throughout the world. Conquering giants now want commissions of 60 per cent or more from publishers and then they ask a sum again to display the titles prominently. They strike bargains that enable them to sell three books for the price of two, like lavatory cleaners in a discount store, and much as they draw crowds to their jangling tills, the trail that they leave behind is of closed shops and hand-to-mouth publishers and unknown but probably good writers that do not have the pull of Dan Brown or Harry Potter. This is the damaging irony of big time bookselling; that it consumes the very trade it is meant to be promoting, and many, many books from small publishers never get to be read by the wider book-reading people. So who stands to gain, who stands to lose in this dog-eat-book world? Remainder books are big business now, big enough to have their own book fairs. Testimony surely to the growing value of shelf space in the bookshops that have to be cleared as quickly as books are being churned up by the big boy publishers.

Following the closure of Borders in Charing Cross Road, Wan Hulaimi (our Awang Goneng) writes a passionate piece about the demise of bookshops thanks to ruthless and ultimately short-sighted business practices. I love his description of the eccentric way Foyles used to operate. It brings back memories of when I used to make a pilgrimage down to London as a teenager, to visit what was felt by many to be the best bookshop in the world. (Pic on right - Charing Cross Road)

Ramadan Memories

In The Sunday Times Wan Ahmad Hulaimi (who writes as Awang Goneng) talks about his memories of Ramadan days when he was growing up in Terengganu. It's a lovely piece, and of course, if you want a bigger serving of Terengganu fare, you can pop along to his excellent blog.

(Sorry it took me a while to post this - I couldn't locate it on the NST website and then a kind soul came to my rescue via Twitter.)

More Awang Goneng

I tried to capture the rhythm of the language, the lifestyle we had back then. Writing the blog liberated me from my rigid, structured background as a journalist. I was always neurotic about writing the first paragraph! But the blog was free-flow. I wasn’t writing for anyone; I was essentially writing for myself. I could write whenever I wanted.

Awang Goneng tells fellow Terengganu-ite Dina Zaman in Starmag today. It's a very nice piece but how I wish more space had been given for it. (And I wish it hadn't been padded out with words Dina did not write!

My review of Growing up in Trengganu which I was asked weeks ago to write to go with her article, doesn't appear. Perhaps by now with so much publicity for the book already in the other newspapers, it has rather timed out.

Having to stick to the meager word limit means that all almost the examples I so wanted to include had to be cut out (making it a piece that I am less than satisfied with myself).

Here 'tis though, for your eyes only:

There is a delicious irony about the fact that a book as distilled from memory and marinated in the rich spice of nostalgia as Awang Goneng’s Growing up in Trengganu actually owes its existence to the electronic media. For this is one of Malaysia’s first “blooks” (as books based on a blogs or websites are known).

Awang Goneng is actually the nick of London-based veteran journalist Wan Ahmad Hulaimi who began Kecek-Kecek (which means “just chatting” in the dialect of Terengganu) as a way of recording what his childhood was like for his children who have grown up in Britain. The blog (which can still be read online at http://k ecek-kecek.blogspot.com) would probably have remained online had it not been for proactive publisher Philip Tatham of Singapore-based Monsoon Books who contacted Hulaimi and asked him whether he thought there was a book there.

There was. And while the material has been re-editing and reorganized for print, the book retains many of the characteristics of the blog and I’d say is enhanced by this, rather than otherwise.

Just as the online reader drops by a blog casually and may read posts out of sequence, this is a book that can be dipped into at any point since each short piece is self-contained and satisfying, often flowing in stream-of-consciousness style from a thought or a photograph. This is not a book to be hurried through, but rather sipped slowly and relished.

Interaction with readers plays a very important part in shaping a blog, and Pak Awang (for so I shall call him) soon acquired a following of readers whom he credits with filling in gaps in his own recollection.

Not that he seems to have too many of those, for although he protests at one point that “The light of the present has limited recall when you open the door slightly to the dark back room of your past”, what amazes the reader is the detail in which he is able to render each scene, bringing vividly alive the sights, scents and tastes of his childhood.

Whether he’s describing listening to storyteller by lamplight, talking about how Trengganu-ites coped with the monsoon season, letting us in on the secrets of making the infamous anchovy sauce budu, ruminating on the role of chickens in kampong society, or describing a family Hari Raya, Awang Goneng proves himself an erudite and gently humourous companion, weaving personal recollection into the rich tapestry of everyday life of Terengganu of the period.

It is, though, the recollections of ordinary people, shopkeepers, hawkers, kampong folk, imams and teachers, each of them described with respect and love, none of them are too humble to be noticed, that most strikes a chord.

Another of the great delights of the book is the insights it gives into the “Trengganu speak”, a dialect (which I’ve always found impenetrable and mysterious) which has a word for everything, for “There are as many ways to speak as there are chairs for cats to scratch” as Pak Awang says.

While Growing Up in Trengganu is a book which is intensely personal it is also a stunning cultural record of a time and place greatly changed, and not necessarily improved, by “progress”. The crowds flocking to the launch of the book in Kuala Terengganu and to author events in KL have clearly taken the book and its author to their hearts. The book is now into its second reprint, just a few weeks after publication.

That’s not bad going for a writer who hadn’t even thought about making a book from his blog!

I nicked the lovely photo above from Kak Teh's blog. It shows Awang Goneng with the son of one of his old teachers.

Kak Teh wasn't only Awang Goneng's bag carrier on their recent trip back to Malaysia, she also put together a documentary account for RTM's Galeri Perdana. The first part of her Jejak Awang Goneng is here**, and even if you don't understand the Malay, it gives a wonderful flavour of the place and personalities the book is based on, and the sound of the dialect:


*And I wish it hadn't been padded out with a paragraph Dina did not write! There has to be some integrity with what material goes out in your name, doesn't there?
**The links to other parts of the programme can be found on Kak Teh's blog and on Youtube.

I nicked the lovely photo above from Kak Teh's blog. It shows Awang Goneng with the son of one of his old teachers.

The Awang Goneng Roadshow!

Awang Goneng (Wan Ahmad Hulaimi) is a writer very much in demand and working tirelessly to promote Growing Up in Terengganu.

Firdaus sent me this link to pictures and a video of his session at the International Islamic University.

His wife Kak Teh describes how Huliami was asked by the Chief Minister of Terengganu to speak at an event called Sembang-sembang Awang Goneng, and how:

... when he spoke about the need to keep the people, the soul of the city, in the city, to grow with the development, he got a bit emotional and couldn’t speak for a while.

If you have hitherto missed Awang Goneng, you can catch up with him at MPH Midvalley on Sunday 20th Jan, 3-4 pm.

Was delighted to find this short video clip of Hulaimi singing at the reading at Seksan's. This is a moment of pure magic. Thanks so much to "Akarimomar" for uploading it.


(Pic nicked from Kak Teh's blog.)

Blogs Help Develop Writers

People say lots of things about bloggers, most of them uncomplimentary, but I’m very upset about that. ... Blogs are very special tools for honing your writing skills or to get you started on writing, and I used my blog as my notebook, for rough notes which would one day form the substance for this book.

Wan Ahmad Hulaimi a.k.a. Awang Goneng is interviewed by Meera Murugesan in today's Malay Mail about the writing of nation-wide bestseller Growing up in Terengganu.

Bloggers in Malaysia have suffered every kind of insult (what were we called? liars? monkeys?* bored housewives?) and it's lovely to see someone provide the evidence for the likes of Tourism minister Tunku Adnan that blogs are a very positive force, which the government should be supporting and embracing rather than denigrating.

Pak Awang says that the most important lesson about writing he's learning is this:

Do not worry about what you’re writing. Do the best you can at that moment. Go on with it and then come back to it if you have a fresher insight.

On the local literary scene he says that many local authors rarely, if ever, get support despite their talent:

I blame the local infrastructure, the publishers, distributors and editors for not promoting local books. Many good local writers are being ignored. They’re simply not being given the exposure they deserve and yet, when such authors thrive overseas, we want to hail them back and claim them as our own. There’s something wrong here and those responsible have a lot to answer for.

I missed the links to last week's coverage of the book launch in the New Straits Times, so here's Su Aziz's very nice piece.

You're feeling like a superstar yet, Pak Awang?

*It's worth noting that Hulaimi's wife, Zahara Othman (who blogs as Kak Teh) was singled out by Khairy Jamalludin as one of the monkeys. It shows how much (or rather how little) not-too-clued up son-in-law-in -waiting actually understands about blogs and the people who write them.

** Hulaimi was quite amused by the fact that one politician who has been most vociferous in his condemnation of bloggers was right at the front of the queue to get his copy of GUiT signed at the launch!

Boredom

I'd never thought of boredom being a western disease until I read this in Awang Goneng's Growing Up in Trengganu but this makes sense:

Boredom is an English word, and even then, a recent one. The noun bore came aboard in the second half of the 18th century, and it was only in 1823 that Lord Byron divided the world between the bores and the bored.

In Trengganuspeak — and I daresay in standardspeak too — we've been bored for as many years as the arm is long, but only in the sense of bosang (standardspeak, bosan) to mean "I've had enough" of something, a noise maybe, or someone's constant nagging. But the idea of being bored by having nothing to do is a new one, imported from the Western fixation with instant gratification, and the need to do something when nothing is being done, or to be moved by some manufactured outward stimuli because the moon, the sun, the shade, the trees and the chirping of birds aren't enough. Suddenly bosan becomes an intransitive verb, a reason in itself.

This obsession with external stimuli has given rise to many weird and unwonderful things, like the blaring video player in an express bus trundling down the motorway from Kuala Lumpur to Kemaman in the quiet of night, television sets blasting out in shopping malls and even in hospitals, and recently — in London — one public library I went to had games blasting out from PCs when everything should've been still and quiet. It was to attract the kids, and irony of ironies, in the world of books that was the only way they could think of to keep them stimulated.

Definitely there's a cultural difference here. Westerners always see time as something to be filled, productively if possible, entertainingly if not. As for me - I can't sit for any length of time without a book or newspaper in my hand, or a pen to scribble away with in a notebook!

Readings Gets Respectable ... Well Almost

Readings@Seksan's drew its biggest ever crowd this Saturday and it was standing room only! And the audience seemed a lot more ... *cough cough* respectable than our usual boho-chic crowd. (Although KG in his shorts and orange hair, I think tried to even up the balance.) We had *gasp* a politician ... and blow me down, even our national laureate, A . Samad Said in the audience!

I'd like to think exponential increase in numbers was due to my charm and personality, but I rather think that it all had something to do with Awang Goneng bringing his fan club along.

There was definitely an east coast theme to the afternoon, with the first of our Terengganu-ites Dina Zaman kicking the afternoon off with extracts from her short stories, The King of the Sea and a new piece (I think) called Nightwatch. She's sitting on such good material (I know because I've read some of it) and I really hope that it all gets collected into a book before too long. (Nag nag, Dina!)

Patrick Teoh, actor and radio personality (and much more) read a couple of his Teohlogy columns from Off the Edge so beautifully that it's no wonder that he's been dubbed "the voice of Malaysia". The crowd just loved his-tell-it-like-it-is critiques of Malaysian society and politics. You can catch up with Patrick on his blog Niamah!!! (a useful Cantonese swear word!).

We had a very extended break (I was waiting and waiting for the call to prayers from the Bangsar mosque, as we can't read through it ... and it caught me out yet again.)

I was going to leave Awang Goneng (the crowd puller!) until nearer the end of the afternoon, but the presence of a photographer from the Star who had to leave early forced some last minute rescheduling.

Awang Goneng (Wan Ahmad Hulaimi) began by telling us how he began blogging about his childhood in Terengganu for his children who had never lived in Malaysia. He talked about how rhythm is important to his writing (something that has struck me reading Growing Up in Trengganu*) and before he read from the book, he sang some of the songs and nasyids that he remembered from his childhood days which had helped to develop that sense. (My goodness, it was so beautiful!)

The fact that so many people turned up to the launch in Kuala Terengganu, the fact that so many people turned up today, shows just how deep a chord the book has touched. The book about Hulaimi's childhood becomes a book about other childhoods as well.

It was lovely too to see Hulaimi's wife, my friend Zahara Othman who blogs as Kak Teh.

M.K. Ajay is an Indian expatriate who has been working as the director of an American company here for the past three years. He has published a collection of short stories and two books of poems, including his recent collection Sweetness of Salt, which was released last month by Plain View Press in Austin, Texas. Ajay read several poems including Shadow that Became Rains, Definitions (and I was very taken with the image of the Petronas Twin towers as a honeycomb), Dialogue and Curry Leaves.

I will be writing more about Ajay and his book soon.

The other east coast writer (from Kuantan) was our bad boy blogger (or rather ex-blogger since he's taken his posts down and is now concentrating on other projects including film making). Amir Hafizi can always be relied upon to lower the tone. I issued a health warning before he began so that anyone with delicate sensitivities or weak hearts could leave. And bless him, he was on true Malay Male form, reading a very funny piece he'd written while drunk the night before about how he wants to get paid for sex** ... but realising first he had to get into shape had gone to sign up with California Fitness, and then of course there's the signing up process to deal with and the communication gap with the girls on the front desk!

Sadly, Shinji Moriwake didn't manage to make the event (his band had a gig at Central Market and he sms-ed to say he wouldn't be free), but I do hope that he can make it another time. (I quite fancy having a hip-hop influenced Readings ...).

Anyway, after the event people partied on and Awang Goneng signed books which were snapped up incredibly quickly. (Look how many this lady is buying!).

Thanks to Seksan, as always, for the beautiful space.

(And in case you're wondering, the artist whose work provided the backdrop for this month's event is Chu Yuan, and you can read all about her in today's Metro section of the Star.)

Thanks to all who read and all who came and cheered them on.

Thanks to Shahnim for the blog poster. (Irman's turn next month since he's so picky about fonts.)

Thanks to Eugene and Leon who washed all the glasses and cleared up.

Friends who stayed back for a chat afterwards ... and Reza had the best Christmas hat (though Adrianna Noordin came a very close second).

A very Happy New Year to you all!!!!

*By the way this is an older spelling of the state now known as Terengganu.
** If there are any takers who find him via this blog, you can pay me a small commission!


Postscript:

Nice write up on Hic Sunt Dracones blog. Manal enjoys meeting the writers. Kak Teh gives us a charming behind the scenes glimpse of what it takes to be Pak Awang's manager!

Sufian has great pictures as usual, and Firdaus adds more here.

Awang Goneng Goes Back to His (Bookish) Roots

The pseudonym apparently means "mischievous local boy" but for anyone still not sure who Awang Goneng, the author of Growing Up in Trengganu is ...

... he's actually veteran journalist Wan Ahmad Hulaimi, the blogger behind Kecek-Kecek, and husband of another very well loved blogger, KakTeh aka Zahara Othman.

And, of course, he's reading tomorrow at Seksan's.

I'm a little shamefaced that I haven't written anything about the book yet, but this is because 1) I'm reviewing it for Starmag and 2) this beautiful book is just to special to hurry without savouring each short chapter fully. (I am a fair way through it though.)

The picture from the Star shows the book launch in Kuala Terengganu on Tuesday, at the Alam Akademik bookshop where he once bought his first books and his father bought his kitabs (religious books).

The book is already doing very well and is going into a second-print run of 3,000 books.

Trengganu - Blooked!

I predicted way back that with some of the freshest, most interesting Malaysian writing emerging on the blogs, and it was only a matter of time before publishers noticed.

Biggest congratulations to Awang Goneng whose forthcoming Growing Up in Trengganu (due to be released in a couple of weeks) is Malaysia's first blook (book based on a blog). Congrats to to Philip Tatham of Monsoon Books in Singapore for being so proactive and not waiting for printed manuscripts to hit his desk.

Pak Awang writes:

The book has been my top secret project this year, and even my better half Kak Teh only knew about it when the editing work was nearly done. My regular readers will know that Growing Up has been a regular and eccentric feature in my blog and if numbers are to be believed, the series has gone through many hundred thousand parts. But fear not, it is not coming out in many volumes but in just one small collection with cover design by a talented lady in Ireland, published by a small but reputable (and no doubt talented) publishing house in Singapore, and a cartoon of me on the writer's bio page was drawn by a talented but no small cartoonist called Lat; and it is even embellished with photographs sent in by readers from as far away as New York and Canada. I am, needless to say, over the moon.

The idea of Growing Up in Trengganu being snuggled between covers was one that never really seriously crossed my mind, though I did — once or twice, in moments of fanciful thought — toy with publishing it myself. And then Monsoon books came in with an email asking if there's a book there: and of course there was, and so it now is.

And I can't wait to have a copy.

Postscript:

Cheryl Hagedorn of the excellent blog Blooking Central has put up an excellent post about this book/blook. Amazing that such a buzz is created even before the book is out.

The Englishman Who Shouted Merdeka!

Was delighted to see Fredrick Lees interviewed by Wan A. Hulaimi in the New Sunday Times today.

Some of you will know Freddy as the author of Fool's Gold, a novel (published by Silverfish) based on his own experiences as an officer in the Colonial Service in Malaya, and may have met him at the first KL Literary Festival.

I met Freddy through my friends Jean and Barry who also have a house in Rye, in Sussex.

He really is a fascinating storyteller and I loved hearing about how things were here "back then", particularly when he took my head on a virtual tour of KL in the fifties and I saw the skyscrapers dissolve and the mansions along Jalan Ampang swim back into view.

But the best story and the one I told him really must be written was his account of how he - an Englishman - was actually the person who lead the crowds in the rousing call "Merdeka!" on that auspicious day.

Freddy had been enlisted as a member of the committee that organised the Independence Day celebrations:

At midnight, Aug 30, 1957, Tunku Abdul Rahman delivered his independence message to the people. "A new star has risen in the eastern sky, a star of freedom for yet another Asian people." From his drawer, Lees pulls out a bound copy of cyclostyled sheets, the schedule of events on the morning of Saturday, Aug 31.
Everything was timed exactly as it should have happened. "At 7.36 HRH the Duke of Gloucester arrives at the stadium and greeted by Datuk Abdul Razak and Encik Abdul Rahman Talib," he reads from one page.

But not everything went to plan, the Declaration of Independence as read by the Tunku and which everyone now takes as the highlight of the event, was not read as timed in the sheets. "What happened was a bus came up to the front of the Merdeka Stadium, drove into the storm drain and could not be removed. So the whole ceremony took place one hour later," recalls Lees with a chuckle.

He also remembers another incident that still gives him great satisfaction. Lees was in the stadium’s control box with Umno’s then rising star, Syed Jaafar Albar. Just as they were studying the schedules and looking out nervously for possible glitches, "Tunku Abdul Rahman popped his head in" on his way down to the stadium grounds.

He asked Syed Jaafar to lead the crowd in cheers of "Merdeka" at the conclusion of the event. This Syed Jaafar did. "Merdeka! Merdeka!" he shouted into the microphone as the dignitaries were moving out from the specially built Merdeka platform in the stadium.

The crowd responded with equal gusto, and then, according to Lees, another hitch: Syed Jaafar lost his voice. "Syed Jaafar turned to me and said, ‘My throat’s gone, my throat’s gone. You do it!’ "I did and shouted ‘Merdeka’ into the microphone, and ‘Merdeka!’ the crowd responded. Again, ‘Merdeka’..."
In his house in the peak of Rye, at midday, in front of the landmark church of St Mary the Virgin, Lees speaks his gruff voice into an imagined microphone of 50 years ago. "Merdeka! Merdeka!" Lees proclaims to the whitewashed room of his book-lined study. He sits back with a broad smile.

"I thought then, ‘This is marvellous, it gives me tremendous satisfaction. This is why I came here.’"