No Chinese Laureate

We know that no Chinese who writes in the Chinese language will ever be bestowed the title of Sasterawan Negara*, unlike in Singapore where the literatures of all the main language streams are recognised and honoured with the Cultural Medallion, etc.

This from a most eloquent article by Kee Thuan Chye expressing Chinese frustrations. Uthaya Sankar S.B. has, of course made the point about no non-Malays ever holding the post before. (And there is a lot of very good discussion in the comments to the post.)  Let's hope that things really do change soon, because participation by all races of a nation is vital to its life (literary and otherwise!).

*Laureate.

Harapan

The Saya Anak Malaysia blog has a very nice write-up about Sunday's panels for Malaysia Forum, which makes me sound a whole lot more coherent than I thought I was. Here's me with Pete Teo and Fahmi Fadzil who had interesting things to say about music and film in Malaysia.

Singapore's Fiction Famine

One of the great conundrums of local writing - how come Singapore produces so many excellent poets but comparatively few writers of fiction? And why does that situation seem to be reversed in Malaysia? Of course it is something of an oversimplification, but on Eric Forbes' blog, poet Ng Yi-Sheng suggests some reasons :

... the easy answer is that poems take less time to write. Singapore’s a busy country. Most of us have day jobs; those of us still in school often have night tuition. It’s hard to carve out a chunk of time to write the Great Singapore Novel, or even a full-length play. It’s much easier to scribble out a poem on the bus in between stations, or while waiting for our systems to defrag.

Another answer is that communities of poets have developed. The seminal moment for this was the Singapore Literature Prize in 1995, which allowed unpublished poetry manuscripts. The official victor was Roger Jenkins’s From the Belly of the Carp, which has faded into literary obscurity, but the runners-up were a band of 20- and 30-somethings, eager and determined to develop Singapore literature anew.

The Class of ’95, as they call themselves, were Alvin Pang, Aaron Lee, Boey Kim Cheng, Yong Shu Hoong and Heng Siok Tian. They organised readings, lobbied bookshops to stock their works, travelled overseas for literary festivals and put together grand, ambitious anthologies (e.g. No Other City, a collection of urban poetry where names of poets were relegated to the index, so that laureates and neophytes rubbed shoulders to form a polyphonic national epic).

I was lucky enough to be present in those early years: an awkward, closeted schoolboy, chanting my free verse at Chijmes, the old National Library, Borders and the old MPH bookshop. What was really great was that these guys were approachable and inclusive, paying for our dinners at mid-priced Indonesian restaurants while they discussed politics and culture, bringing us along on overnight train rides as part of poetry delegations to Kuala Lumpur. Without their encouragement, I might never have dared to print my verse.

And today, it’s the same story. The Class of ’95 and the poets who followed them continue to be the crusaders of homegrown lit. There’s Cyril Wong and Toh Hsien Min, who run online literary journals Softblow and Quarterly Literary Review of Singapore respectively. There’s Chris Mooney-Singh, who hosts poetry slams and coaches students in performance poetry. There’s Enoch Ng, a Chinese-language poet, who cranks out award-winning volumes of verse in Mandarin and English from his one-man publishing house, Firstfruits.

Poetry in Singapore is alive and well, not just because of our preference for bite-sized creations, but because poets are working hard to make themselves heard. Thus, we’ve got communities, not only of writers, but also of readers, willing to support us as well as the newer poets who emerge year after year.

He makes the point though that the media in Singapore largely ignore the poets (but were very keen to pick up on short story writers Wena Poon and O Thiam Chin after the Singapore Literary Festival).

But, he says, he can't think of :

... a single other Singaporean fiction writer who’s emerged and published in the 2000s ... it's a fiction famine ...

He reckons though that there is hope for the future :

The literary agency Jacaranda Press is actively seeking out Singapore fiction for a global market. There’s a new grant from the National Arts Council called the Arts Creation Fund, supplying enough cash for people to actually to take a long-term break from their jobs and churn out a humongous tome. November has even been declared a NaNoWriMo: National Novel Writing Month, an exercise wherein participants are committed to churning out 50,000 words of fiction in 30 days. ... Not surprisingly, the Class of ’95 has also leapt to the rescue. Poet Alvin Pang has teamed up with The British Council in Singapore to set up a week-long writers’ retreat on the island of Pulau Ubin, with novelist coaches from the UK’s Arvon Foundation to goad us into writing fiction. I attended the retreat myself in October 2009, one of 12 participants gathering in pondoks with laptops and notepaper, five of whom were fellow poets. I’ve borne witness to the workshops, and I can assure that there’s some great prose bundled up in some of us, waiting for a moment to break free.

(This piece will be appearing in the next edition of MPH's Quill magazine.)

What We Did in Our Second Workshop

The second week of the British Council's City of Stories workshops was lead by author Ardashir Vakil, whose first novel Beach Boy won a Betty Trask Award in 1997 and was shortlisted for the Whitbread (now Costa).  His second novel One Day was shortlisted for the Encore Award. (Sadly, neither novel was available in the local bookshops.) Ardu teaches creative writing at Goldsmith's College, London.

We were worked pretty hard throughout, with plenty more tasks and readings to keep us busy in between.

We did more exercises to develop character : we took a character from our fiction and described them ravenous with hunger for a particualr food, and then wrote about the last time they had eaten it; we placed our character in a room and described it ,and then wrote about a place where they would like to be; we described their favourite object. We wrote about who we were (Me? A brit dispalced ... a neither here nor there person ... too big, too loud too messy.)

We put stories under the microscope to see how they worked : The Kiss by Chekhov, in which a man's life is changed by a single kiss a mistake in the darkness and Jumpha Lahiri's Sexy (from The Interpreter of Maladies).  We saw how economically character can be brought to life in one or two telling details, and at how so much meaning can be carried in just a few words. ("Less is More" was one of the mantras of the workshops.)

And we looked at a much more complex and skillfully handled story, Five Points by Alice Munro, we looked at shifts of time and how transitions were made. (And now I realise what a bad reader of Munro's work I have been.  You can't hurry them, need to read and reread, and tease them out.)

We spent all day Saturday workshopping pieces of our own writing. It was done kindly and everyone I think took something very useful away from from the experience.

And one of the most fun things we did on Sunday was to go down to Petaling Street, to watch the crowds and record the things our senses took in.

(We sat down to write wherever we could ... and of course a nice beer helped!)

We had to make notes on one particular character who we could use later for our fiction.  (I met this fascinating guy called Jack who was selling bamboo whistles from his motorcyle tricycle.)

We came back to the British Council to share pieces of writing that had inspired us and pieces of writing from our notebooks which we had written over the previous few days.

I'm sad that the whole thing is over - I've come away from the experience feeling re-enthused and validated, and I feel I know how to move forward with the pieces I shared.

My greatest wish is that we could have more workshops of this kind so that more local writers can benefit. My greatest thanks to Ardu and Sarah and to the British Council for providing us with this opportunity - I feel mighty privileged to have been part of it.

Postscript :

Do read Damyanti's excellent take on the two workshops too. She fills in the gaps and says all the things I forgot to say.

Read Great Lit to Save your Souls

Malaysian youths must be exposed to more local literature that highlight noble values like respect and responsibility ... Reading high-quality literature needs to be encouraged because it is the best way to inculcate the culture of knowledge and instill positive values in our youths.

said Education Minister Tan Sri Muhyiddin Yassin (who is also the deputy PM) at the presentation of the Hadiah Sastera Perdana Malaysia (Malaysia Premier Literary Award), The Star reports today. (There's a much fuller account of what he actually said on the Bernama website which actually reads much better.)

It is great to see such support of literature, but I'd remind the minister that we read for pleasure, the rest follows : along the way, it might actually make us better people, but it "being good for us" is never the reason why we pick up a book.  

But I do agree with him that it would be great to see local literature make the transition to other media, but please make translation into English a priority!!

And it's good that there is a RM200mil Creative Industry Fund, but it would be nice to see some of the money spent on what writers actually need in this country - courses, workshops, resources,  grants and bursaries. 

And not just for Malay language writers - those writing in English are doing so much to put the country on the map internationally, and there are Chinese and Tamil writers to consider too.

But anyhow you can't just throw money at something and expect it to happen.  Those that are making a mark internationally are, in every case,  those who have had the gumption to do something for themselves and the willingness to make big sacrifices.

It is indeed sad that the Award has now dropped its English language category, and I feel *big sigh* there is something symbolic in that too. it also strikes me as really odd that the awards were for books published several years ago - this gives the impression of some not-being-on-the-ballness which might give the prize an image problem.

Anyway, all this minister speak has overshadowed the actual results so here are the prize winners :

Among the works that received the award were a children’s novel, Azrul Wira Anak Laut (by Hassan Omar), a novel for adolescents Me­­nikam Kalbu (Faisal Tehrani), an anthology of poems entitled Salju Shibuya (Muhammad Salleh) and anthology of short stories entitled Mekar Sakura di Mimbar Cinta (Ilham Hamdani) .... Arena Wati was given the HSPM 2004-2005 posthumously for his book Armageddon Jilid 1: Mandala.

Biggest congrats on your success!

Encouraging Writing in English on Both Sides of the Causeway

English matters. As a medium of communication, we reach the world with it and the world reaches us. That’s a fact we can’t ignore. Hence, Malaysians writing in English is a bridge for us to connect with the global audience. ... And, since English is a widely spoken language in the country, it’s a medium for us to connect with each other as well. ... Malaysian literature in English is unique to us. We wrestle with demons uniquely our own and our works reflect that. But are we seeing enough Malaysians write in English?

asks Rizal Solomon in today's New Straits Times. He says that he was stung into feeling guilty by Wong Phui Nam's words at the Singapore Writers' Festival KL press launch : wasn't he himself guilty of not really paying attention to local writing talent? He took the opportunity to talk to writers from both sides of the causeway at the festival.

Veteran novelist K.S. Maniam says (and I personally really applaud this) :

I think they have to break down this wall between writing in the national language and writing in English, Tamil and Chinese. We have to say all writing is Malaysian.

Maniam mentions some of the factors which will really help and encourage local writers - much more translation, workshops, competitions and awards.

Singaporean Wena Poon tackles an attitude problem:

Many Singaporeans complain there is no point producing art because there is no audience in Singapore; people won’t buy tickets or books. They assume the readers’ lack of sophistication and everybody gets depressed. That’s a non-constructive view ... Even in America, the typical layman doesn’t give a damn about the arts, poetry, theatre or novels; so don’t expect a heartlander to shell out for a book. You play to a certain audience, in every society. If you, as an artist, care about ticket or book sales, then it’s your job to figure out what readers want ...

Writer/artist Sonny Liew (whom I am ashamed to say has slipped beneath my own radar despite being nominated for the prestigious Eisner Award, while the recent French translation of his graphic novel Malinky Robot won the 2009 Prix de la meilleure BD award), quite rightly points out that things are changing for the better for writers with the Internet :

... which allows easier networking and online publishing, means there’s less isolation and less dependence on traditional forms of distribution and publication

Amir Muhammad says :

I never believe in ‘scenes’, just in individual writers. And on that note, there are a few rather strong writers indeed. Among fiction writers, Brian Gomez and Shih-li Kow are world-class and inimitably local.

As Rizal says at the end of his column, really it is up to all of us to give out local authors a chance!

I must add that I find it greatly encouraging to see space given to this discussion in the NST and hope there will be much more to come. Now that's a great way to boost local writing!

Literary Berlin

More and more, the city is expanding on its historic role as an incubator of books. Award winners and anonymous scribblers, locals and expatriates, everyone in Berlin has a book in him and everyone with a book in him seems to have roosted in Berlin. ... The teeming masses of authors are supported by a superstructure of foundations and grants and ubiquitous antiquariat (used-book stores) seemingly on every corner, not to mention the noble cultural villas, like the Literarisches Colloquium Berlin and the American Academy in Berlin, both on the same lovely lake — the Wannsee — near where the poet Heinrich von Kleist killed himself in 1811 after first shooting the incurably ill Henriette Vogel.

Nicholas Kulish writes about the literary health of Berlin in The New York Times. One can't help but be envious. Foundations ... grants ... used bookshops ... cultural villas ... *sigh*

Why Non-Malay Writers Must be Recognized

... as with their role in public institutions, non-Malays have some legitimate grievances about the lack of recognition of their contributions to the development of literature and the arts. ... Malay leaders and Malay society as a whole should be more forthcoming in rewarding the accomplishments of these non-Malay writers, artists and singers, especially when their medium of expression is Bahasa Malaysia, the language of the land.

One of the recommendations made in Dr. Chandra Muzaffar's* op-ed piece, Ways to Understand the Other, in today's New Straits Times. He discusses ways that the different communities of Malaysia can "reduce mutual distrust and forge better inter-ethnic ties".

One of the saddest things for me is to see our writers achieving recognition overseas and with readers locally, but receiving no official recognition of their quite amazing achievements. Any other country would be hanging the bunting out ...

*Dr Chandra Muzaffar is president of the International Movement for a Just World (JUST) and Professor of Global Studies at Universiti Sains Malaysia

We're Doing Something Right!

(Malaysian literature is) going through a period of growth at the moment, thanks not only to writers but also to those working in the background: organisers of monthly book readings in the city, poetry performances, and creative writing classes. Many of these people run these events for the love of it. There are more platforms now for a writer’s work to be seen, heard, read and, consequently, they have spurred more people to write, to create. ... I also feel that there’s a generation of younger people who no longer feel they must enter the traditional professions of their parents: doctors, lawyers, accountants, engineers. Credit should also be given to these parents, who are strong and brave enough to allow their children the space and freedom to be writers, film-makers, playwrights, dancers.

Tan Twan Eng talks about Malaysia's developing writing community, his influences, Anwar Ibrahim, and much else in this interview with Paul Mozar of the Far Eastern Economic Review.

(Above the Serbian translation ...)

Postscript :

Another interview - this time from the WaterBridge Review (a journal of Pacific Rim literature) which gives more insight into the man behind the author.

A Case for Pessimism?

This month's Time Out has a piece (which Eric has put up on his blog) by S.H. Lim about the state of local writing. Lim interviews the guys who should know - senior editor of MPH Group Publishing, Eric Forbes, and bookshop owner and publisher Raman Krishnan.

Raman says that despite the successes of our overseas published authors :

... these successes are just here and there. Sporadic. Intermittent. There's no pattern to suggest that things are different now. In any case, these are writers who live overseas (most of the time and make occasional visits to our shores to press skin with local readers to promote their books or to have face-time with their families), and are published there. Not here.

Eric points to the need to put in place the right building blocks if you want publishing locally to thrive :

You need writers, literary agents, good editors and publishers and a reading public. When local works don't sell, publishers don't invest. After all, publishing is about ringgit and sen. About the bottom line. It's not about charity. Or, heaven forbid, the art of writing and the message delivered.

(I wrote on this here.)

He points to the fact that although he receives manuscripts, few of them are of publishable quality. Most local publishers want almost-ready-to-print scripts and just don't have the resources to work with a writer closely on rewriting, so that the authors themselves must learn to self-edit and/or employ the services of a freelance editor.

Raman talks about how :

There are thousands of stories that tell us who we are as Malaysians ... They need to be told. They need to be written. But we don't have enough writers. We don't have enough people writing. We need stories about ourselves. Our history.

and how his approach is not to find new writing but to nurture a group of writers and bring them up to publishable standard, as he did with the three authors of News from Home.

I must say that overall, I found the article more negative than it needed to be. There is plenty wrong, plenty that isn't happening yet, but I believe that things are improving, albeit slowly, and both Eric and Raman (among others) are playing a very necessary part in all that.

And despite what Raman says (I think he's unfairly dismissive) one of the biggest shots in the arm our local writing community has had is seeing other Malaysians doing so well on the international stage.

These authors too are major encouragers of local writers, sharing their thoughts about writing through articles for magazines and blog posts, and taking part in local writer events including Readings@Seksan. Perhaps the most important contribution they've made is to show Malaysian writers "Look this is possible" ... and of course they set the standard.

Nope, I won't be pessimistic yet.

How Indian Is Indian Writing In English?

The other day Uma raised the issue of why our published-to-critical-acclaim- overseas-Malaysian-authors :

... seemed to be everywhere else. To be anywhere but here.

The same is true of course of Indian authors. (And Pakistani authors, and Bangladeshi authors, and Sri Lankan authors, and Nigerian authors and ... the list goes on.)

Abhinav Maurya writes a very interesting piece about the phenomenon in LittleIndia [found via] :

The next time you walk into a bookstore to browse English books penned by Indian authors, try this little game. Turn to the author biography to see which continent he currently calls home. If you are pondering established names on the literary scene, chances are that nine times out of ten, you will hit upon the phenomenon of the Indian English writer in self-imposed exile.

He ponders the reasons for this, muses on the effects on the writing :

The multiculturalism evident in the works of émigré Indian writers is a result of the alienation they have suffered from both cultures, Indian and western, and their struggle to bridge the gap between the two. It is often because of the distance these writers must contend with between themselves and the milieu of their stories that a certain longing and sentimentality often creeps into their works. Though this element of nostalgia has often been debunked by the critics, it may well be seen as the hallmark of an emerging class of Indian writers.

And in the end recognises :

Whatever the reasons, the exile has done more good than harm to the Indian literary scene, with publishing houses and literary agencies setting up base in India, in recognition of the growing importance of Indian writing in the global scene. The press has been flooded for some years now with stories of major publishing houses like Penguin, HarperCollins and Random House flocking to India in expectation of a literary boom in the country. This in turn has helped many English writers living in India find good publishers and recognition for their work.

Not to mention of course the encouragement for writers inherent in seeing someone from your own part of the world succeed globally.

By the way, I take issue with Maurya saying that Hari Kunzru is an Indian author settled abroad! He was born in Britain and brought up in Britain, but yes has an Indian father! Does everyone need to be pigeon-holed neatly into boxes that identify them as exclusively this and that?

Silverfish Writers' Forums

Good for Raman for taking the initiative with this. (It's very badly needed.) :

After repeated requests, Silverfish Books is organising a writers' forum. The intention is for it to become a monthly meeting for aspiring creative writers in English to read their works, request feedback, network, form their own splinter writers' groups, and to share their stories with others having similar interests. We have been pondering this for a while. The original intention was to make it exclusive to Silverfish Writing Programme participants. But after discussing this with others we have decided to open it to all (including writers from Singapore if any want to make the trip). No fee will be charged.

It is proposed that this free forum be held on the first Saturday of each month ( as long as interest lasts) and the first event will be on
Date: Saturday, 5th July 2008
Time: 2.30 to 4.30pm
Venue: Silverfish Books, 58-1, Jalan Telawi, Bangsar Baru

This session is ideal for you if:

1. You write short fiction, biography or travelogues
2. You have unpublished short stories, biographies or travelogues of around 2000-3000 words to share
3. You crave constructive criticism on your writing to help you improve
4. You want to continue writing till you die
5. You are willing to work hard to improve your writing
6. You are passionate about writing
7. You intend to write enough stories for a whole book (not a one-story-in-ten-years writer)
8. You are thick-skinned and resilient and not afraid of criticism

This session may be a waste of time for you if:

1. You want to write mainly to make money
2. You only want to be a writer but you are not interested in the hard work (or you merely want to be famous for being famous)
3. You are not open to criticism of your writing
4. You are not willing to share your stories.
5. You are not interested in reading various genres and authors
6. You think writing is all about glamour
7. You think your writing is already perfect
8. You have a weak heart
9. You like to dominate events by not allowing anyone else to speak (or present their stuff)
10. It's all about you, you and you.

Great list too!

Malaysian Book Academy

So Malaysia now has a "Book Academy"? I only realised this when I read this editorial about Malaysian reading habits in the New Sunday Times :

While offering information and entertainment, books also provide an architecture to make sense of life. More importantly, reading civilises our inner self. And in a multiracial nation such as Malaysia, a passion for reading about each other's ways can help prevent cultural or religious conflict. Which is why any move to improve the reading habit among Malaysians -- such as the establishment of the Malaysian Book Academy -- is most welcome. The academy, launched on Friday, aims to train people for the book publication industry, and encourage writers. Admittedly, past efforts do not appear to have turned Malaysians into rapacious readers. Which is why, bearing in mind that the availability of more books does not equate to a greater readership, the academy must work in tandem with bodies such as the Education Ministry and libraries if it is to produce results.

Here's Bernama's report dated 29th Feb (which, forgive me, I'm quoting in full because I think it is very important) :

The country's book publishing industry has yet to reach the desired standards with its rate of publication of less than 10,000 titles a year, National Book Development Foundation Chairman Datuk Khalid Yunus said.

He said not only were there insufficient publications for general reading, the type and quality of the publications were also limited.

"Compared with Korea and Japan, we are still far behind. Taiwan, whose population size is about the same as Malaysia, has 30,000 books published a year," he said at the launch of the Malaysian Book Academy by Culture, Arts and Heritage Minister Datuk Seri Dr Rais Yatim here today.

Khalid said publication companies in the country were not managed professionally and their staff were not exposed to modern technology.

"It is for this reason that the Malaysian Book Academy is set up," he added.

He said besides collaborating with the Culture, Arts and Heritage Ministry, the setting up of the academy would involve cooperation with the London Book House, Insitute of Book Publishing New Delhi and the School of Publishing New York.

Meanwhile, Rais, when met by reporters later, said he believed the setting up of the academy would help overcome problems in the industry, like book tax, tax on printing machine, ways to promote publications, etc.

He also hoped it would encourage people from other races to publish books in Malay, saying that the books could be sold at the more than 2,000 rural and public libraries nationwide.

If the sale of the book reached 3,000 copies, it was already a best-seller, he added.

On reading habit in the country, Rais said people read English publications more than those written in Malay as reflected in the statistics on English and Malay newspaper readers.

If this works it could be a real shot in the arm for local writers and publishers and I really am looking forward to hearing more.

A Post on Kindness and Criticism Written in Horribly Clashing Metaphors

I love having my friend Guat Chuah Eng back and now in the literary conversation in our Malaysian blogosphere, and now she's turning over the stones and debating whether there is a future for Malaysian literature in English.

While the larger question might now seem passe (and surely can only be answered with a *yawn* of course lah!? seeing as how a number of Malaysian authors are producing work of quality both locally and on the world stage) some of the other questions she is asking are very pertinent.

And I've nothing better to do at the moment (no need to cook dinner tonight) so I'm up for a good argue.

In her latest post she writes:

I found particularly depressing the comments on our aspiring writers' poor command of the English language and their lack of writing skills. Depressing, not because it is untrue or because it is all too true, but because--dear oh dear--haven't we been through all this before?

Where, I ask myself, would Amos Tutuola's classic, The Palmwine Drinkard, be today if the editor who received his manuscript had returned it to him for corrections? Where, indeed, would e. e. cummings be if his editor had told him he shouldn't write until he had learned how to punctuate? Wasn't it in 1963, if not earlier, that Raja Rao said, "We cannot write like the English. We should not." (Should there be a question mark here? And where should it be placed? Damned if I know--or care!) And right here in Malaysia, as long ago as 1976, novelist Lloyd Fernando, then Head of the English Department, University of Malaya, reminded us that for local literature to develop, "for some time at least, it would be more profitable for critics and scholars to confine themselves to the less spectacular role of recorders concerned to nurture, rather than critics giving evidence of their perception and integrity."

Are Malaysian writers in English so thin on the ground? Or is the ground in fact thick with writers dead and dying under the weight of hopes dashed and dreams shattered by their critics?

The balance between encouragement and criticism is crucial in a writing community as I've argued before. (My famous fishtank metaphor!) And I've been concerned with the question of when and how to criticise emergent writers since I started the blog and I'm only too aware (as someone who's been a beginning fiction writer, and as a writing teacher) that they need a safety zone and that confidence can be destroyed with harsh criticism too early on.

The dilemma is that (to use a botanical metaphor) with too much early criticism, the tender little plant will wilt and possibly die. But at the same time, without the right kind of criticism at the right point, the plant will grow straggly and no-one will want to look at it.

Where exactly does that right point for criticism come? The best first criticism is from a writing teacher and fellow writers. Possibly from friends you can trust. It should be kind and supportive and stress the positives and help you see the direction you might move your work in. It shouldn't jump up and down on your work wearing jackboots and waving it's own aren't-I-clever flag. (World War II metaphor.)

But I would say that it comes when your work is put between the covers of a book and start to charge the public for it, you have to be ready for critical open season. If you aren't, sit on your manuscript, hide it in a drawer, keep it in a file on the computer that only you know the password for. Being published is the point of no turning back.

This post I wrote on "the gentle cycle" (washing metaphor) says it all I think, and I hope that if you write, you will take a moment to go back to it.

I haven't commented on this blog about the stories in some collections by local writers I've read, and one reason is that I feel that new writers need space to try things out and yes, make their mistakes.

(As a little aside. The Silverfish collection I edited got reviewed very fairly, I thought, in the NST. Just one of the contributors got totally slammed in the piece. She happened to be the youngest writer and one I thought was promising ... but not yet arrived. I never told her about the review and I don't think she saw it. I just didn't want her to be discouraged. Now, years on, I can laugh about it with her because she is proving to be a very successful and in demand writer. Would she have given up if she'd seen the review? Or was she made of far tougher stuff from the beginning?)

I did review the Silverfish collection News From Home the other day (and honestly with trepidation) largely because it was interesting to see how Mr. Raman's new venture was working. Raman (who asked if I would review the book on my blog) felt the comments were fair, but I hope that I haven't stepped too hard on the toes of the writers in question who all have promise ... but like all writers are on a journey.

A good editor will not put out work that is rough around the edges, and will gatekeep so that the writers who are published are ready for public scrutiny and are in that sense protected. And the editor as I've said before has a responsibility not to put crap work before a public paying good cash for their copy. (Remember - a locally produced book generally costs only a bit less than an imported mass market paperback of a top international author which the reader could be enjoying instead!)

Now as a book-buyer, I don't want to see books with a multitude of typos and tense mistakes. It isn't necessary. And this is how painful the reader finds it.

Now about the two authors, Guat mentions:

E.E Cummings' lack of capitalisation (in his poetry though, not his own name) was a deliberate stylistic choice, much like Cormac McCarthy's annoying trickiness with apostrophes.

I love Amos Tutuola's The Palm-Wine Drinkard which is written in West African pidgin English as I have loved other books, comics and poems written in that dialect. A good editor will see immediately whether it does or does not work.

So encouragment and criticism - where should one end, the other begin?

I think you do everything possible to encourage the writer, but only publish, in the end, the very best.

Over to you, Guat.

Postscript:

I've put together an index of all my posts about building a writing community in Malaysia, which you can find here.

826

Author Dave Eggers has just won an award worth US$250,000 ... but it isn't just for his writing. The 2007 Heinz Award in Arts and Humanities honours both his creative work and community involvement.

Mr. Eggers certainly doesn't lack literary credentials. He is the author of author of (among other works) the memoir A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius and the recent highly acclaimed novel What is the What (about the "lost boys" of Sudan), as well as the founder of literary quarterly McSweeney's.

Now an inspiring story from the Los Angeles Times tells how Eggers has been doing something really good for children across the US by setting up a chain of nonprofit literacy centers. The first, 826 Valencia, opened in San Francisco's Mission District in 2002 and he has gone on to found 826 centres, set up in retail shops with colourful and inviting store front windows. There's a pirate store, a space travel supply company, a superhero supply centre and even a boring store. (Egger's prize money is going directly to the centres.)

Doesn't this sound good? :

The playfulness of the retail shops is echoed in the work of the literacy centers. In addition to standard tutoring, they emphasize creativity and storytelling. 826LA has published two books of student work, with hands-on help from Lakers Coach Phil Jackson and Los Angeles Mayor Antonio Villaraigosa. In a popular workshop, kids can make a book and take it home the same day.

Hmmm ... are you thinking what I'm thinking?

Wot? No More Silverfish New Writing?

Meanwhile, back in Malaysia for the moment, Raman announces in the same breath the list of stories that have made it into the Silverfish New Writing 7 (and big congrats to all, new names and familiar ones) and the imminent demise of the short story anthology:

By the way, this will be the last in the Silverfish New Writing series. We have decided to stop here. There will be no Silverfish New Writing 8, nor anymore after that in the foreseeable future. To all those who have contributed in the past, thank you for making the series an unqualified success.

Very very sad. These short story collections have been extremely valuable to local writers - and I'd include myself in that (and editing Collateral Damage was a tremendous experience). There are some really heartfelt comments on the post and I really sympathise.

As Deepika Shetty points out there's a funny kind of irony here. I was sitting with her on her veranda at the Honeymoon Guesthouse in Ubud a couple of mornings and we were talking about the series and how it had given so many writers - including myself - a start.

Sharanya Manivannan got her start as a published writer with a piece in the anthology I edited (though it would only have been a matter of time before she broke through somewhere).

And I was on cloud nine after going to Mohammad Cohens' book launch for Hong Kong on Air during the Ubud Festival (left): the first chapter had appeared as "an extract from a work in progress" and it was the first piece of fiction he had had published, a validation that he tells me he is still grateful for.

Repeat this story through the other collections - the grateful writers who got a break, who knew their work was worth something because the book itself was worth something; the unsuccessful writers who kept reaching higher because the collection set the bar, and perhaps after some time reaching it.

As Deepika says:

I'm sure the reasons for this are sound. Publishing isn't for the faint-hearted and Raman did open so many possibilities for aspiring authors, some of whom are now full-fledged novelists. And for that he deserves to be applauded. I do hope that someone will see the potential of such a publication and continue what he so bravely started.

I don't know the reason behind the decision but will have a chat to Raman and find out. And perhaps there is some way to keep this anthology going, or begin to something along the same lines. We need it.

Update:

Raman says the series hasn't achieved what he wanted it to achieve when he started the project. I didn't press further 'cos I didn't want to hear any more about how terribly disappointing Malaysian writers are. And anyway, I don't believe it.

Postscript:

Amir Muhammad's take on the matter. Amir was the editor for Silverfish New Writing 1. He describes the move to discontinue the series as:

... an impoverishing one ...

but reckons the series would have been much stronger if the focus had remained on Malaysian and Singaporean writers.

And yes, as Amir says, Raman has probably got the next plan for world literary domination up his sleeve!

Another Postscript

From another editor, Robert Raymer, on Raman's blog:

I do hope you reconsider. This series has been a great inspiration for a lot of writers. It's the carrot on a stick that I hold out for my creative writing students (this semester I'm even teaching a class for lecturers), that by completing their story and rewriting it later they have somewhere to sumbit it too, by March 31th. That deadline gets them going! Several of my students have in fact been published in the Silverfish Series (2 in SF6!). I know I have personally benefited, both in my stories being accepted (four including two in SF7!) and also as one of the editors (SF4) who has had the pleasure of discovering some talented writers (including at least two who have popped up in SF7!

The Expat Malaysian Author

Silverfish's Raman sends his congrats to Tan Twan Eng but (typically!) uses his post to hit other local writers on the head.The question he raises though is interesting and very relevant:

While basking in the glow of vicarious glory, one cannot help but notice something: all these writers live outside the country. Why? Are Malaysians only able to get anything done when they leave the country? One can't help feeling that there are so many more successful Malaysians outside the country than inside.

... Is the lack of Malaysian writings the fault of our education system, then? Sure. Who hasn't heard of the many disturbing stories about our schools and the teachers? If it is, then how does one explain the writers mentioned above? Did they not attend the same local schools when they were here? Maybe they went overseas for their tertiary education, one might say. That could be it. But then how does that explain the 'failure' of those who come back from overseas after their education? No stimulus? No peers to push them on? It cannot be that we have no talent. The writers mentioned above were born here too.

So what's your take on this?

I'd say first, the situation is nowhere near as bleak as Raman makes out. There is some very good local writing talent, much of it young, and some very interesting work being produced ... as anyone who has been to the Seksan readings recently can tell you. (I can tell you of others who have done my course, and others whom I know through the blogs.)

What is lacking is the follow-through, the getting manuscripts actually finished and in marketable form and then out to publishers. (And here Raman is right, I think.)

Perhaps there is a crisis of faith too ... one that I hope the success of our local-authors-made-good-overseas can help to the writing community here to overcome, by example, and by involvement. (Kudos to Beth Yahp who comes back and runs courses, to Tash who took the trouble to run workshops at the litfest, to all those who share their knowledge and experience via blogs, published articles, and writer gatherings.)

So why do these award winning authors live outside the country? I posted a reply on Raman's blog and will expand on it a bit here. Here are some of the factors I can identify, although for most authors it will be a combination of things, of course:

Some go for education (boarding school, tertiary education) and stay on for the better job opportunities or because there feels like home in a way that Malaysian doesn't.

Some stay overseas for personal reasons. Love is the great kidnapper of Malaysian talent. And if you choose to marry, it's almost impossible to get a job for your spouse/partner in this country, let alone one that pays well.

Some go initially because of the availability of creative writing courses overseas and find themselves more recognised and encouraged as writers there. (There are a couple at UEA at the moment and one recently finished.)

Some go because ... and this is the controversial one that will have me clapped in irons ... Malaysia - let's face it - has a wonderful knack of stifling creativity.

In an environment where freedom of expression is seriously curtailed, where books and films are banned and restricted, where politicians take offense at satire, where Malay filmmakers and authors are harangued for letting the race down, where folks of different races do not feel they have an equal stake in the future of the country, where gays and lesbians face discrimination, where Malay women writers who dare write their mind have their websites hacked and receive death threats ... is it any wonder that authors look for a place where they can create without fear of censure? You see, everything is connected. One very prominent Malay writer told me that his most prized possession is his passport, and he's ready to leave if the current political and social environment becomes anymore restrictive.

Some become authors because they are overseas! Tan Twan Eng's The Gift of Rain for example, is redolent with nostalgia for the country he was missing so badly while he was in South Africa. (Would the book have come out as well if homesickness were not factored into the mix?)

These authors of course publish overseas because the local market isn't big enough, and local publishers have so far proved ineffective at getting the work of local authors onto a world market. They also know that they will not be able to have a shot at most of the world's literary awards unless they live or publish overseas.

One reason that Malaysian authors are doing so well on the world stage now is that readers in the West are discovering a hunger for fiction from the Far-East. Some Malaysian authors resident in the US fit very nicely into the Asian-American fiction niche market (e.g. Tinling Choong, Shirley Lim).

One wonders anyway ... would these authors have got published here and if they had, what would have been the fate of their work?

Raman's wrong about one thing. Although The Gift of Rain was written in South Africa Tan Twan Eng was living and working (and writing!) here until April (around the time of the litfest) and had even gone into Raman's shop on occasion as a customer. He will be back next month and also is one of the authors representing Malaysia in Ubud. He ain't as overseas as you might think he is!

And anyway, should we be as hung up on hereness and thereness as Raman appears to be? Let's celebrate all Malaysian authors regardless of language, race, religion, gender, sexual orientation, political stance, or place of abode. And see each other as part of the same encouraging writing community.

(Am very anxious to hear your thoughts, especially if you are one of the overseas published! Do drop Raman a comment too.)

Postscript:

Deepika has posted a very good piece on her blog about this issue, along with excepts from her Channel News Asia interview with Tan Twan Eng:

Just when you think the congratulatory messages should be pouring in, the insider-outsider debate is back. ... At the risk of detracting from this post, I'll add that this isn't something that's unique to Malaysian writing, take a look at Indian writing and you can count the outsiders who have made it big globally. Authors who have moved outside and decided to write about their home reality will always tell you about the pining for home, the sound of rain, the heat, the dust, the sights, smells, sounds - all of which turn into a heightened sense of reality when you are away from home.

Later she quotes Twan's thoughts on being away from Malaysia when he wrote the book:

I think (being in Penang) wouldn’t have helped. I felt the emotions were stronger while I was away. The sort of longing for something which is familiar when you are sitting out there. Outside its almost a desert landscape and there you are longing for a tropical rainstorm. In Penang, it’s almost like part of your being. You are in the landscape, life has a pattern, going to the beach, walking, eating. It’s the absence that drove the book – absence in a good way.

As I said, authors often write because they are away!

What We Need

The StarMag team have done an excellent job with the ReadsMonthly supplement again. Tunku Halim (dubbed Malaysia's Stephen King) is on the front page, interviewed by Daphne Lee. His new book 44 Cemetery Road is a compilation of 21 dark tales previously published in other collections, and three new ones.

It's nice to have a prince as a pal who comes round to tea (!), and Halim is the youngest son of Tunku Abdullah of the Negri Sembilan royal family. He told me that it is his grandfather's portrait (did I get that right?) on the front of all the ringgit notes. He now lives with his wife and children in Tasmania, but we've been lucky enough to see him back in KL a couple of times this year. He's yet another Malaysian lawyer turned author, writes full-time now, but also deals in real estate.

What Halim says this about the needs of our local writing community really strikes a chord with me:

"There is a vibrant writing culture where I live. ... There is a writing centre that organises talks for budding writers on how to write and to get published. There is a lot of sharing and encouragement. The community spirit is strong, which is important as writing can be a lonely activity, and yet the fruits of writing depend on others’ notice to thrive."

He feels that Malaysian writers could benefit from a stronger writing community to support them. He suggests the formation of a “writers society”. “Through such a society, ideas and skills can be exchanged. It will be supportive of local writers and their writings. The society can, once established, also offer writing courses to members.”

Halim feels that a variety of writing courses should be offered. “Not just a standard creative writing course. How about offering courses for the short story, the novel, non-fiction, poetry, popular fiction, plays?”

He laments the fact that in Malaysia, budding writers don’t really have much to aspire to. “Their work gets scant publicity,” he says. “Unlike fine art and theatre, local writers and their books seem to be hidden in the background. When was the last time a local writer gave a talk at a school near you?”

Halim remembers entering a writing competition organised by the New Straits Times and Shell. “I didn’t win but it was exactly the spur I needed to get writing. Young writers need incentives like that.” (The competition ran for several years but is now defunct.)

As for already published authors, Halim suggests a “best book of the year award, from a recognised body, even if it’s only at a municipal level, for example, the local library.”

He also believes in mentorship. “It would be good for experienced writers to work with those who are just starting out,” he says, adding that local publishers may be able to act as “networking vehicles for all writers”, putting published and experienced writers in touch with those who are still aspiring to the craft.

He is willing to help other authors in any way he can and has set up a blog, Write lah! expressly to share writing and publishing tips with younger, less experienced writers – specifically Malaysian writers, as the blog’s subtitle is “Writing for Malaysians”.

I talked in a blog entry way back about how I would love to see a writers' centre set up here, half wistful thinking, half manifesto. A while back, my friend Jean sent me a poster showing all the activities for writers in Perth ... courses, workshops, meet-ups, talks ... and I felt sick with jealousy! We so badly need this here.

Update

One can never predict which way the discussion in the comments should go, but I think those in the book trade (publishers, booksellers and distributors) should take a look at the conversation that resulted from this post. Your feedback to the comments very much welcomed, because there are some serious issues to address! (And c'mon lah, I KNOW you read me!)

Where Novels Thrive

(Novels) require a book world which can review, alert, display and advertise to the consumer, and dispose of and renew its stock several times a year. They require diverse network delivery systems to the end users (libraries, bookshops, book clubs). Those end users have to be habituated and habitual consumers - good for innumerable repeated orders. The consumer of fiction needs to be educated and literate. The advent of the novel, it is fair to say required a more sophisticated creation, distribution, reception and consumption apparatus than any other cultural form until the arrival in the 1890's, of the cinema. ... The novel is the product of a developed, institutionalised, and commercially advanced society. The abiltity to read a novel intelligently, I would maintain, is the mark of a mature personal culture.

I post this extract from John Sutherland's How to Read a Novel: A User's Guide as a sort of postscript to the previous entry about the growth of the Indian writing community.

I think that when we ask ourselves why so few novels are emerging from Malaysia and Singapore, we tend to focus narrowly only on the writer and publisher, not on all the rest of the complicated machinery that needs to be in place to make writing a novel a viable proposition. And the fact that we need to have an intelligent readership.

Sutherland makes the point that the novel (as opposed to the poem, play, or short story) is a product of an industrialised society, which is a slant that hadn't occured to me before.

It's a whole ecosystem, as I've already said, and pondering how the parts of it might be put in place giving me much happy mental exercise.

Writing from Here vs. Writing from There

Kathleen McCaul writing in the Guardian discusses the current literary scene in India and how the focus is changing from the NRI (non-resident Indian writer i.e. living in the west and writing for a predominantly western audience) to homegrown writers. (Of course, there are some interesting parallels with the situation for Malaysian writers.)

Literary critic Nilanjan Roy (who turns out to be Huree Babu of the Kitabkana litblog!) explains why so many Indian authors have moved westward in the past:

For the Indian writer working in English, going abroad was one way to reach the marketplace, to lessen the very considerable distance between publishers, editors and agents in the west and the writer at 'home'. Vikram Chandra and Amit Chaudhuri teach at universities abroad; other writers have shifted because they have access to better jobs, more scholarships.

But other Indian writers feel they want to stay close to their roots, and author Altaf Tyrewalla talks about his difficulties writing as a NRI:

I don't know how, for instance, I could write from the perspective of an imaginary butcher in a chicken shop if I wasn't also suffering the humidity like him, suffering the noise of a ghetto like him, and yet trying, like him, to think amidst this discomfort, this cacophony ... Midway through writing No God In Sight, I went to New York to be with my fiancée (now wife), hoping to continue with the novel there. I assumed I could write anywhere, that I could stretch my imagination wide enough to surmount the distance of thousands of kilometres. I was back in Mumbai in two months. It was a very expensive misadventure.

The article points out the need for a local literary infrastructure for writers. Delhi-based reviewer Hirsh Sawney says:

There aren't as many literary institutions in India so writers aren't challenged to produce better work - aren't nurtured.

However, things there do seem to be improving and there's another sign of a maturing literary culture - Indian writers are beginning to write novels set in parts of the world, says Rana Dasgupta*

I have a lot of pressure from my publishers to write about India (but) it is a colonial hangover in publishing to think that writers in India, Africa and the Caribbean must write about their home cultures while writers from the West could write about anywhere. Mature literary cultures should feel like they can write about the world.

*Rana Dasgupta has a very cool website - you can leave your graffiti all over it!

Pic of a Calcutta bookseller nicked from the Guardian.