the gift of rain

So I've finally finished The Gift of Rain.

No, not that it was an arduous task to finish the book, it's just that I haven't really been spending much time reading. For a myriad excuses, none really substantial. I left My Name is Red halfway through; I really should finish that as well.

So yeah, The Gift of Rain. Great book on Penang in the 40s. There are lots of landmarks and streets on this little island that have stood the test of time (and Japanese and Allied bombs) and the author goes through great lengths to make a mention of them. From the E&O (recently refurbished) to Chulia Street, I assume he was either born in Penang, or stayed in Penang for umpteen years. Better still, check out his site for more info on him, yeah?

The book presents the various communities in Penang at the time in contrasting light; the Brits are fixated with social status and tea parties, while the Chinese are obsessed with tradition, culture and business. There's only one mention of an Indian dude throughout the book, and he's a communist. When it comes to the invading Japs, one word: contradiction. Cultured yet barbaric, gentle yet warlike, wise yet murderous. Which pretty much sums up Japan of the 40s. I mean, who would have imagined a race capable of creating zen-inspired gardens would be inclined to kill for pleasure and cause great destruction.

Above all, the author takes the reader on a time machine, back to a time of jukeboxes and dhobi wallas and street peddlers. A time when houses had names like Le Bleu Maison and not the modern crap Wisma Biru, for example. Good thing about Penang is that it had more or less retained it's colonial past and accepted it, instead of denying all references to British rule, as is the norm in all other parts of Malaysia.

I mean seriously, Light Street sounds more aesthetically-pleasing than, say, Jalan Datuk Panglima Besar Abu Bakar or, get this, Jalan Pengaturcara.

Yes, I'm serious. Programmer Road.

Jeez!

game, set and match?

The Rules of the Game has come into my possession. [Insert megalomaniacal laughter here]

The book that trumps all other self-help books.

The book that gives the reader insight into the secret art of picking-up people.

The book that promises to turn even the dullest of country bumpkins into a suave, smooth-talking ladies' man.

I'm more than skeptical, I might even say incredulous. Yet, I'm also curious. There's this nagging itch at the back of my mind nudging me towards the first page. I lay the blame on first-hand testimonials and an intriguing book cover. At first glance, The Rules of the Game comes across as another one of those mumbo-jumbo dating aids that start off being best sellers, and end up in the bargain bin some six months later. And it appears its predecessor, The Game, was highly successful, or so Amazon tells me. Then again, almost every book on Amazon seems to be a best seller.

So am I going to get started on The Rules? Perhaps. It should make an, erm, interesting read. Something to while my time away at the cafe or Starbucks. Though I will probably have to spread my palm over the front cover; I reckon one of the Rules will be to not be seen in public reading a book on the rules of dating. If it isn't, then it ought to be inserted the later editions.

Prejudices aside, I have a strong feeling that this book is going to be just another Who Moved My Cheese - boring and self-indulgent.

Or it could just be the next best thing after the Dummies series.

I wait with anticipation.

Matthew Bartholomew Chronicles: To Kill or Cure

Satisfying.

After waiting for almost a year, picking up Susanna Gregory's 13th edition of the Matthew Bartholomew series was not disappointing. Some series have a tendency to be repetitive and utterly predictable after the third or fourth edition. Not this one. Yes, it is a whodunit, so the process and story flow is more or less similar througout, and to be expected. But the plots are devilishly ingenious whilst the characters are slowly developed over the course of the adventures.

For a while, I thought I'd be a tad bit bored of Bartholomew and co, having lain off the series since The Tarnished Chalice. But I was pleasantly mistaken; the scholars of Cambridge got a grip on me once again the moment I turned to page one. And by the end of the book, I was glad to have spent an entire evening reading and uncovering the villain. To be honest, there are several scenes that seem to drag on for no particular reason, but when the chase starts, the hunt is on. And it remains a hunt right to the end, when the heroic physician and 'big-boned' monk face their adversary in a do-or-die standoff.

So yeah, a well-spent RM 30, and a restless anticipation for book 14.

of elections and erections

So did he or did he not? Will he or will he not? Guess that's what's playing on most people's minds this evening, as approximately 25 million people wait with bated breath for the results of the by-election in Permatang Pauh. Where? Permatang Pauh, Penang. I will not even do a Wiki to discover the exact location of what is currently the hottest political battlefield in the entire country. Even as many ponder if Anwar will win, a smaller number will be pondering if he did indeed take the back door, metaphorically speaking. It just goes to show how blatantly narrow minded Malaysians are, where the sexual preferences of so-and-so play an important part in determining if that person is suited for running a constituency or the nation. That, and his race, creed and religion. Forget capability, disregard integrity, ignore honesty; for these are insignificant traits.

Enough of Malaysian politics, I feel a rumble in the wide expanses of my tummy. Gym today? Mayhaps (is there such a word?) not. Still slightly woozy from the flu attack of three days ago, and my nasal passages have yet to be properly plumbered (?). But then the question arises, if not gym, where? Don't think anyone's around for tea, and Lotus is getting to be more than a bore these days. I'm tempted by Starbucks, or even Gloria Jeans; I've been carrying Anthony Burgess' The Long Day Wanes for more than four months in my bag, hoping to make reading it a routine after work. Not a chance, as yet. I have, on the other hand, started on the third and final installment of the late David Gemmell's Troy series, titles Fall of Kings. I'm hooked, yet again. I said that about the first book, I reiterated it about the second, and I'm setting it in stone for the third. Might I say, it's even better than Troy the feature film, which I feel should have been called Achilles: The One Man Show. For that was what it was, an ode to Brad Pitt's artificially bronzed physique and unreal killer moves, literally. Disappointing, as the movie clearly steers away from Homer's original gist. Ah well, that's Hollywood, isn't it?

A complete 180; Zoosk isn't that great. The way everyone (i.e. two people) was going on about what a great medium it was to meet singles, I thought it was some singles club. Alas, a sizeable number of Zooskers are attached, while a bigger number don't seem to remember that they have a Zoosk date card (Zoosk jargon). And there is something so wrong with putting up a baby or child's picture in the profile box. I mean, there's something fundamentally sick about someone flirting with a person who has a little girl as the profile picture. Fundamentally sick.

Anyways, it's 7.03 pm and there's still no update on the results. I should get a life and leave office now. I should.

Matthew Bartholomew updates - updated

Just a quick one. It appears that there are two more Matthew Bartholomew books in the market, which I haven't had the pleasure of reading yet. To Kill or Cure, and The Devil's Disciples. The former was published mid last year, while the latter, mid 2008.

Trust Malaysian bookshops to be on the ball. Thank goodness for Amazon and Wikipedia.

Breaking news, 20 Aug 08: Yey, managed to get To Kill or Cure last night. Still no sign of The Devil's Disciples.

Burdett's Bangkok Trilogy

What can I say, what should I say, what will I say.

About the Bangkok trilogy [sic].

At first glance, John Burdett's novels come across as yet another attempt by a middle-aged Caucasian trying to unveil the sleaze and corruption that is synonymous with the backstreets of Bangkok. Yet, delving deeper into his novels, and I find the bloke has, almost, a native's grasp of the goings-on in one of the most vibrant cities in the world. It doesn't hurt having been to Bangkok a couple of times. All the 'landmarks' are there, from Patpong to the dodgy sois.

Burdett weaves fact, fiction and surrealism, and the result is a slightly over-the-top trilogy of books revolving around the investigative skills of Detective Sonchai Jitpleecheep. I found the laidback detective quite engaging, not the run-of-the mill dashing P.I with a gun and a quivering member. Not a cop who is disillusioned and thinks only of downing whiskey shots and screwing every skirt that appears on the pages. So protagonist wise, Burdett had me at page 1.

The story unfolds slowly, irritatingly slow at times, but is littered with plenty of 'insider information', if you wish. Obviously Burdett is one author who has done extensive research into Bangkok, digging deep into the underbelly of the city, and not just merely defecating words that most ignorant tourists also know about Bangkok by heart - sleaze, go-go bars, girls in go-go bars and crooked cops. No, what we get is a deeper understanding of the enigmatic City of Angels, and a firmer grasp of the complexities of the apparently-simple Thai society.

What I don't dig is the ending to each novel. I'm all for twists and turns and stings in the tails, but the magnitude of the surrealism interwoven with the finale leaves a mildly dissatisfied taste on my perceived literary taste buds. Most of us crave a clean ending to any whodunit, maybe with enough of a trail for a sequel, though an open-ended approach is more my preference. Not intending to spoil any potential reader's anticipation, let me just say that the endings could be better, while maintaining the surrealistic feel that accompanies each of the three novels.

All in all, a must read. Followed by a visit to Krungthep (that's Bangkok to the uninitiated).

More info? Visit www.john-burdett.com

Matthew Bartholomew Series

Crime fighters and mystery solvers come in many guises. From the humourless Sherlock Holmes of Victorian Britain and his 'poorer' counterpart Sexton Blake, to the egoistic Hercule Poirot and wry Miss Marple. Who can forget the multitude of sleuths Enid Blyton has given birth to – the Five Find-Outers, the Famous Five and the expanded Secret Seven. The Americans have also sent their representatives to the world of crime fighting – Jupiter Jones and Co., the Hardy siblings and Nancy Drew.

But a scholar and a monk? Hard to imagine, but very real. Enter Brother Michael and the hero of the piece, Matthew Bartholomew. Take your mind back to 15^th century England, the grand walls of Cambridge university, the sludge-strewn roads, the hogs and the peasants. Yep, that's the Matthew Bartholomew chronicles for you. A scholar cum physician cum reluctant sleuth, who meddles into the diabolical masterplans of cunning villains and cold murderers. Of course, Holmes needed Watson, Poirot infuriated Hastings, and Bartholomew is no different. Aided by the far-from-slim Brother Michael, and often by the enigmatic mistress-of-the-night Matilde, this recourceful yet simple healer does his best to ensure that the truth of every murder comes to light.

What grabbed my attention after reading a dozen pages or so of the first book was the detailed description of this famous academic town. Having first hand knowledge of Cambridge has really helped Susanna Gregory in taking the reader (i.e. me) through a time portal, back to an era of hardship, dirt and danger, all endured in the thirst for academic excellence. Or at least that's what most of the scholars in this book want. Other have ulterior motives, a few have no motives and Rob Deynman has no idea what motives are.

The characters are thoroughly memorable, from the bigot Father William right down to the insane Clippesby. From being experts in their respective fields, to being downright ignorant of reality, these characters serve more than just to fill the background. Their personalities are well-documented and very much alive, rather than the common one dimensional periphery characters.

All in all, Susanna Gregory's Cambridge tales make an enjoyable and absorbing read. The books start off slow, but gain steady pace and are nothing short of frantic in the last few chapters. It would be best to start with book 1 and go along the series, as characters are introduced and developed as the novels increase. To date, there are 12 novels in this series, the most recent being The Tarnished Chalice.

For more information, visit www.matthewbartholomew.co.uk