The Story of Success

I’ve been out of blogging action, mainly due to this and also to a curious reluctance to go anywhere near WordPress’s Admin. An almost self-imposed blogging block, if you could call it that. Or less romantically, just plain laziness. My offline writing fared better though I have yet to run out of pages for my (oh so lovely) moleskine.

The reading has chugged along steadily, with more non-fic titles than the other kind. The latest two I’ve completed are Daniel Pink’s A Whole New Mind and Malcolm Gladwell’s The Outliers. Both are synapse-worthy reads, compelling in their presentations of ideas.

Pink proposes that the skills in demand for the future will require right-brain engagement instead of the left-brain intensive skills that are prized so highly now. In other words, abilities to do with creativity, empathy, design, symphony, play, meaning, and – best of all – story, are those that will be needed in the economy of the future, at least in “advanced” countries.

The more analytical, mundance, routine diagnostic and number-crunching work will all be highly competitive areas where there are plenty of good brains (good left-brains, rather) in countries like India that can more than handle the work. In other words, to provide value to the marketplace, you need to be more than just good accountants, lawyers, and doctors. Pink is not saying that left-brain skills are not needed, but that right-brain abilities need to be strengthened and brought into the “major league” when they’ve been unfairly benched all these years.

He includes some tips and follow-ups for you to strengthen your own right-brain abilities and become a more “holistic” thinker, and these include storytelling resources (intriguing!), mind-mapping pointers, and – even – resources for you to develop a sense of humour. (If sense of humour is necessary for success in the 21st century, then I am in a lot of trouble).

You can’t disagree with Pink about the competition that’s already abundant in routinised analytical work such as accounting, drafting of standard law contracts, programming and even reading of x-ray charts, tasks that are outsourced to varying degree to highly qualified graduates in countries such as India and the Philippines. What is sobering is that Pink labels the “Knowledge Age” as one that is on the way out for developed economies, with the Conceptual Age already upon us (this is sobering because this country is still grappling on the path to becoming a “knowledge society” and we are definitely unable to compete with India, China and Philippines in terms of providing the numbers of “left-brain” workers at the right amount of salary). In this Conceptual Age, it’s right-brain dominated abilities that will be needed. He goes so far as to say it won’t be MBAs that will be in demand but MFAs (Masters in Fine Arts).

While Pink includes the storytelling chapter,it’s Malcolm Gladwell who truly exemplifies the power of story in his book about people who have achieved extraordinary success in their lifetimes, the “outliers”. I have never been as smitten by a non-fiction book as I have by The Outliers. From the very first chapter when Gladwell dissects and tears apart the abnormally healthy statistics of a town called Roseto in Maine, he had me hooked on his stories and theories about success. And his central theory is that successful individuals did not make it purely on their own talent and hard work but that success is as much a combination of opportunity, background (yes, background – in a lot of cases, it matters whether or not you were born into a middle class or poor family), cultural heritage and even the year of your birth (not numerology here but common sense – if you are born in a certain era, you can take advantage of particular events and discoveries, such as the railroad boom and the advent of the computer).

He provides examples in the form of Mozart, Bill Gates, the Beatles, the contrasting lifepaths of geniuses like Chris Langan (an IQ reading that was ‘off the charts’) and Robert Oppenheimer (the atomic bomb creator), Jewish lawyers, Korean Air pilots and even his Jamaican mother. The stories are convincingly told and halfway through the book, he had me ensnared with his theory that a lot of external factors come into play in the making of a “success”. As Gladwell pointed out, the mighty oak tree cannot become a mighty oak tree if its trunk had been chopped, if sunlight had been blocked, if water was unavailable, and a multitude of other factors. How very true.

The theory I particularly liked (because it’s concrete and countable) is the 10,000 hour theory; that you can only be a master at some job or work if you have put in 10,000 hours or thereabouts of practise. Writers,  musicians (the Beatles practising at Hamburg), computer wizards (Bill Gates got early, privileged access to computers way before other kids did) and even lawyers who have become successful only became so after they had put in the time (and had the opportunity) to practise their craft. It is also this 10,000 hours that differentiate the merely good from the excellent. In a study he did of talented musicans at a top music school, he found that those who excelled invariably had been those who increased their hours of practice year by year. There were none among the top musicians who excelled without putting in the practice.

Gladwell goes on at length also about cultural heritage (cultural baggage in some cases) and I could not help wondering if some of what he posits could be applied in Malaysia to ramp up performance and results among certain segments of students (males in particular) in our public universities. Certainly, Gladwell highlights cultural heritage that help (the work ethics of farmers in China) and those that hinder (Koreans’ obsessiveness with societal hierarchy and all the rules that some with it), and also presents studies where obstructive cultural baggage was successfully removed (Korean Air pilots).

The Outliers is enjoyable and fascinating though I am not convinced that the theories provided are rigorous enough to withstand proper empirical scrutiny. Still, it’s a book that makes your mind travel through paths it’s never travelled before, and that’s (almsot) always a good thing.

By chance, Gladwell, dubbed “the rock star of non-riction” (he reportedly received a $4m advance for The Outliers and is also on a lecture tour in Britain), was recently interviewed by The Independent UK. I like to highlight his take on meritocracy in the US:

The touring Gladwell will take questions at the end of each lecture, so you might prod him on why British people should be surprised by this book’s premise; ours being a society where there may still be some correlation between success and the class you are born into. Really interesting, though, is the hole Gladwell punches through the hoary stereotype we sometimes hold about America – that by contrast, it is a classless meritocracy.

“Both countries stack the deck in favour of certain people over others,” he begins. “They choose to stack it in different ways. Americans do perhaps use more subtle mechanisms for doing so. But there is certainly an Ivy League caste system here that rewards and promotes kids by virtue of having gone to a small set of colleges and entry into those colleges. While it appears meritocratic, in large part it is not. You get there because your dad went there or you are a jock of some kind.”

That, and his book, will make you view “succcess” as not quite the simple equation you once thought it was.

Filed under: Books, Reads , authors, bedtime reading, Books, Daniel Pink, Malcolm Gladwell, reading

Just An Update

President Obama

So, you know, America has a new President who was ushered into the White House with celebration, anticipation and fervent hope. Around 1.8m people attended his inauguration, a record, I understand, and tens of millions more watched around the globe. I missed most of it, with regret, but am more keen to know what he is going to do about Palestine and Iraq. His ordering the closure of Guantanamo as well as his call to halt brutal interrogation techniques (but not all of them – just the “most severe” ones) is welcome but he has also green lighted missile strikes on tribal areas in Pakistan. Will Islam still be equated with terrorism under President Barack Obama, who spent part of his childhood in a village in predominantly Muslim Indonesia?

This list of his first 100 hours gives me some hope still that the new President will inject compassion, objectivity and humanity into the US’s foreign policy, although his silence over the deaths of Palestinians (many more over a thousand) has been deeply disappointing.

The Year of the Ox

Over on our shores, it’s holiday season again as we welcome the Chinese New Year. It’s the Year of the Ox this time around, the animal being quite a fitting icon for the stoicism and perseverance necessary to weather the tough economic climate. I’m realising that more of my Chinese friends have less reverence for this time of year, with a few even working through the holidays instead of returning for the traditional family feast. Wherever you choose to greet the New Year, Gong Xi Fa Cai, to all who celebrate. Here’s a very short tale where an ox “saved” the Austrian town of Salzburg from invaders, not by heroics but simply by being present:

To say that the humble “ox” played a pivotal role in European history might to some appear rather strange, but to the people of Salzberg, this beast is a symbol of courage in the face of adversity.

In the 1500s, an enemy army took over the city of Salzburg, Austria depriving the inhabitants of food and drink. Their cupboards bare with nary a bit of food left, the people were practically ready to surrender until they found a lone ox roaming the streets. They paraded the beast in front of the invaders to prove that they were not hungry. Then, during the night, they painted it black to show that they had more than enough livestock for the people to survive. Completely befuddled, the army retreated, leaving the people of Salzberg in peace.
(from Squidoo)

 

And click here for another story, this time from the Arabian Nights, of The Ox and The Donkey.

My Reading

At the individual level, I’ve done quite a bit of reading over the past month, and am glad for it though I wish the writing will catch up. I’ve completed Neil Gaiman’s The Graveyard Book (a creative delight!), Stephen King’s Just After Sunset (too mild), Clare Wigfall’s The Loudest Sound and Nothing (beautifully written), David Sedaris’s  When You Are Engulfed in Flames (hilarious), Paulo Coelho’s The Alchemist (second reading – it resonates more this time around), Jonathan Kellerman’s Gone (you know, I believe my reading tastes have changed; the story wasn’t as engrossing as I had expected it to be) and William Zinsser’s On Writing Well (I recommend this highly).

Right now, in my book “basket” are: Barack Obama’s Dreams from My Father (so far, he is proving to be as eloquent in writing as he is in speech), Francine Prose’s Reading Like a Writer (I could not resist this beautifully matt paperback and what it promises for the reader and writer), Aravind Adiga’s The White Tiger (for its anticipated irreverence and humour), Robert Schlessinger’s White House Ghosts (am honestly stuck on “W”, however hard I try to move on), and John Pilger’s Freedom Next Time (it gets too depressing in one continuous dose but it provides the necessary reminder that we world citizens need of the injustices wrought by governments). I have also stuffed an old book (I realise that I have a whole shelf of writing books, actually, populated since my teens), The Writer’s Digest Handbook of Short Story Writing, which – ahem – is supposed to get me to write better short stories. But I’ve to sit down and complete my tales first. Particularly before the 31st March closing date for the MPH-Alliance Bank Short Story Writing Contest, which I, uh, intend to, sort of, I think, perhaps, enter.

And ps, one of my goals this year is to read the late Roberto Bolano’s mammoth “2666“ though goodness knows if I’ll get to finish it before 2010 rolls around. Here’s a link to the The New Yorker’s 2666 Reading Challenge.

Filed under: Books, Personal Note, Reads, World, Writing , barack, Books, library, reading, US, Writing, year of the Ox

Good Yarns at Great Prices

I grew up on popular fiction; the words of Stephen King, Agatha Christie, Tom Clancy, Patricia Cornwell and Jeffrey Deaver paved my reading journey for years before I stumbled into the avenues of more “literary” works where words are not just conveyor belts for stories but are artistic details in their own right. I still, though, love a Very Good Yarn, and more times than not, popular fiction serves the shot more immediately than its literary sister.

And so it is that on a recent excursion to MPH in Bangsar Village 2 over the weekend, the racks of some older but good quality fiction titles caught my eye and tugged me back to my reading roots. At RM10 for three, they proved irresistible, and will tide me over until the wallet allows for the latest Jeffrey Deaver and Patricia Cornwell.

Now, I am once again on Alex Delaware’s couch (and car and lonely apartment) as he solves an LA murder of a beautiful young actress wannabe (did I mention LA?) by getting into the minds and lives of some twisted souls (“Gone“, Jonathan Kellerman, 2006). I shall also be revisiting James Patterson and getting introduced to someone other than the brilliant and famous Alex Cross (“Step on a Crack“, James Patterson, 2007), and will find out for the first time if Jack Higgins can equal Tom Clancy or John LeCarre in international intrigue and conspiracies (“The Killing Ground“, Jack Higgins, 2007). At RM10 for all three works from these famous authors, I walked away with a fantastic deal.

All I have to do now is to find a way to get by on more Story and less Sleep.

Filed under: Books, Personal Note, Reads , Books, jack higgins, james patterson, jonathan kellerman, popular fiction, reading, Reads

Saved by Starbucks

Note: This is another of my not-a-review-but-a-collection-of-thoughts kind of note

I don’t know how I missed this book the first time around, given how addicted I am to overpriced coffee.

Published sometime in the third quarter of 2007, the book tells the story of Michael Gates Gill, a once high-flying ad executive who lost his job after more than 25 years of slog, and who – wonder of wonders – got desperate enough to accept a job in Starbucks where his new Boss, Crystal, is not only an African American female but is also half his age. A fifty plus guy working under a young lady boss of a different ethnicity is not exactly head-twisting stuff in this day and age but it’s a remarkable turn of events for a “son of privilege” like Michael Gates Gill, son of New Yorker columnist Brendan Gill, who had everything from school to grand piano to first job handed to him on a silver platter.

The author, I suppose, must be commended for being quite honest about all of his mistakes and prejudices, though his air of naivete does make you wonder whether it’s all real. I give him the benefit of the doubt and choose to believe his change of heart and newfound happiness behind the bars of a Starbucks outlet in New York.

The excerpt below is at the beginning of the tale, when Michael revisits his childhood home and finds himself longing for those comfortable times again.

How far I had fallen from those happy times. I had come a long way from my childhood, when money was never mentioned. I was now nearly broke.

Turning away from the comforts of the past, I looked for some comfort in a latte. One of my last remaining treats. A Starbucks store now occupied the corner of Lexington and Seventy-eighth, where during my childhood there had been a pastry shop. In my depressed daze, I did not notice the sign in front reading: “Hiring Open House”—not that it was the kind of sign that I would have noticed anyway. Later, I was to learn that Starbucks has hiring events at different stores every week or so in New York. Managers from other stores in the area come in to interview prospective employees. Looking back now, I realize that the good fortune that had left my life returned the moment I chose to step into the store at the corner of Seventy-eighth Street.

What does smack of commercialism is his raves about Starbucks. However much I love coffee and appreciate Starbucks for being here in Malaysia to serve up RM8.50 lattes and RM12.50 frappucinos, I can’t imagine it to be the workplace heave that Michael has made it out to be. A lot of its employee policies sound great – healthcare benefits, study loans, a conscientious effort to locate its staff closest to their homes, an entrenched culture of mutual respect and open communications - but perhaps they got the raves from Michael because his former place of work treated him so unfairly. When you’ve been mistreated, kindness, fairness and courtesy gain higher currency in your eyes.

Starbucks photo from Barneto.net

If you give in – yes, give in – to the book and its message, it is a heartwarming tale of how a fair and positive work environment can do wonders for an employee’s morale, confidence, performance and general sense of well-being. It also fosters incredible loyalty, as the Starbucks “partners” demonstrate. In the store, Michael also finds out what it feels like to be in the minority in terms of race and age (he’s white, and he’s one of the oldest employees), and it’s clear that he thinks the world of Crystal, his new Boss. What’s touching is how much he’s willing to learn from his much younger colleagues, and how much of his own past ego he’s willing to let go. Now that is unusual.

This is not a book to read for its writing but for the tale that it tells. It’s a nice story, made meaningful because it’s true but made suspect because it raves just too much about Starbucks. Take the lessons offered – that life is full of surprises, many of them nasty, but that it’s still possible to deal with change and be happy – and soak up the myriad things you would learn about Starbucks (it provides a chart for displaying pies and cakes and has a system of calling out beverages ordered for its baristas). The story is also a sobering reminder of the yawning gulf that exists between the haves and the have-to-work-for-it groups.

It’s only in America, I suppose that a high-flying ad executive could be fired, broke, divorced, humbled, renewed, and then land a rich movie deal through the whole experience. Yes, that’s right, Tom Hanks has secured the rights to this story, so it’s likely that Michael will be the richest Starbucks barista very soon. B

Well, given the recent troubles the chain is facing, Michael’s story and Tom Hanks’s visual dramatisation, could be just what it needs to heat up its business once more.

As for the author – well, all I can say is, well done. And in the spirit of Christmas and the New Year, let’s all take whatever inspiration we can find to make our lives brighter, bigger and better. Whatever time that we have left in this world, let’s make it good.

Merry Christmas, all, and Happy New Year.

Filed under: Books, Personal Note, Reads, Work & Productivity , authors, Books, coffee, how starbucks saved my life, michael gates gill, movie rights, not-a-review, reading, starbucks, tom hanks

At the Mags Rack

The magazine racks at bookshops are always enticing – the text and images on the covers of a lot of publications compete for attention and it’s not surprising that customers station themselves for quite awhile at the racks.

As a former magazine hound, I can tell you that it’s the cosmetics as much as the content that enthralls. There’s pleasure not just in making new discoveries about your surroundings, which can be as immediate as your living room and as expansive as the universe, but also in absorbing the colours, photos and layout of an article. Subjects are liberally spiced by magazine’s big injections of graphics and photos; science, economics, business, politics, all perk up when the writing is complemented by pretty pie charts and prepossessing tables.

I’ve dropped magazine reading for a number of years now, namely due to the steep prices of the magazines I would like to read, and the sheer volume of reading that I need to plow through already which makes magazines a guilty distraction.

Still, I haven’t gone cold turkey. Stores such as Reissued on the second floor of Amcorp Mall that offer older issues of international mags for RM9.90 each, make magazine reading lighter on the wallet. Slick, online versions of magazines are also an avenue to satisfy zine-lust (my vote goes to The National Geographic website for both content and visual stimulus). If you ask me though, online mags are not as satisfying as the real thing in your hands.

In terms of the real thing, the socio-literary Off The Edge, home-decor mags Haven (English) and Anjung Seri (Bahasa), as well as MPH’s lovely book mag, Quill, are my regulars. With our recent home move, a slew of other interior decor titles have found their way onto my bookshelf in the past year, supplemented on and off by Madam Chair, a big (in terms of size) refreshing publication for career women that unfortunately eludes a lot of bookstores’ mag racks.

I have recently added a new title to the list of regulars: Discovery Channel’s Magazine, a beautifully-produced magazine on science and nature, containing excellent articles on a diverse enough range of topics to appeal to eclectics like me. I’ve bought two issues and have been delightfully apprised of: termites, space travel, high-rise farming, the Baja Desert Race, Chinese navigation, the Sydney Opera House construction and – in the latest issue 5 – the not-quite-so-humble-after-all pencil.

The quality of writing in Discovery is excellent and the layout, graphics and photos make reading a visually immersive experience. Given the content repository of the Discovery Channel, of course, the depth and breadth of coverage should not be such a surprise. It also taps into the decades of magazine-publishing experience of that old reading favourite of many of us, Reader’s Digest. I hope the magazine retains its eclecticism and piquant design for the issues ahead.

It’s great that a magazine is launched when the industry as a whole is fighting a losing battle  to remain relevant in the age of freely available dots and bytes. Perhaps in the not-so-distant future, and particularly so with ebook readers such as the lustworthy Amazon Kindle presently gaining ground, magazines will all migrate to the electronic form.

But until that time, the glossy, sometimes audacious covers, funky layouts, catchy titles, sharp writing and arresting photos of magazines still work their magic best through the print medium.

Filed under: At the Stores, Personal Note, Playing Favourites, Reads , discovery, magazines, reading

Office Humour

When there’s nothing much to smile about, at work, I turn to:

Dilbert.

 

A creation of Scott Adams, the history of Dilbert could serve as a sort of inspiration to cubicle inhabitants everywhere. Essentially, Dilbert was created by Scott when he himself was a cubicle-ite, and was an amalgamation of his co-workers. He used Dilbert for his work presentations then was encouraged by the response to try Dilbert for syndication. United Media signed him up and in 1989, Dilbert was launched. Scott still held his day job until 1995, and his work experience (he worked from 1979 to 1995), I believe, is what makes Dilbert and his experiences immediately recognisable to office workers all around the world. So who says all that nastiness you endure at work can’t translate to money, huh?

Dilbert now appears in 2,000 newspapers in 70 countries, and the Dilbert web site, which is fantastic by the way, was the first syndicated comic strip to go online in 1995.

Our Star carries Dilbert in its tech section on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but in black and white. A pity.

At any rate, while you laugh at Dilbert and co (and many times thank the Lord that you do not have a Boss like his), some of his characters and stories will eerily remind you of real life. There is truth in art. And actually, this Dilbert comic strip below is based on a true story:

This guy got fired for posting a Dilbert strip that described managers as “drunken lemurs”; Scott Adams knew about it and created a series of strips around the incident (as above). Not only that, Scott also posted the guy’s resume on his blog, and voila – the guy has now found a new position with one of Adams’s fans. The article quotes Adams as giving this advice though:

“Stick with ‘Garfield.’ No one ever got fired for loving lasagna.”

Heh. I shall continue loving my Daily Dilbert.

Filed under: Collectibles, Playing Favourites, Reads, Work & Productivity , humour, office humour, work

More Books (From Various Bookshops)

I trust that life has treated you well?

I missed this blog (visiting is not the same as inhabiting); I missed writing (jotting down observations of human reactions and conversations is not the same as personal writing), but I have kept up with my reading.

On my reading table, the most notable non-fiction that has kept me riveted (no mean feat) is Tariq Ramadan’s In the Footsteps of the Prophet. Tracing the life of the Prophet but staying away from pedantic religious fervour, Tariq’s narrative on the Prophet Muhammad’s life and character draws out useful lessons for Muslims on leadership, faith, courage, kinship (with Muslims and non-Muslims), and surrender to God. Rich with references to the Quran and the Hadith, the book is a good reminder that the Muslims had a great and noble leader in the Prophet, who led not by rhetoric, but by example. The Prophet’s humanity is thoughtfully highlighted, and throughout the book, Tariq often emphasizes on the much less publicised aspects of Islam – the compassion, justice and humanity of the religion. It’s a wonderful, enlightening read, and a timely reminder of politics and leadership from the Islamic perspective. This title was purchased from Amazon, and the title was found through their computerised recommendations.

For fiction, I reverted to my reading roots: popular fiction, and scooped up Jeffery Deaver’s More Twisted from the under-refurbishment Times Bookstore in Bangsar Shopping Centre. I loved his tales, once upon a time, and absorbed Lincoln Rhyme a long time before Denzel Washington made him celluloid. More Twisted is the second of a collection of his short stories, all centred on murder, suspense and – of course – endings with a twist. I’m three quarters of the way through the book already, so yes, the drought of popular fiction through these months have made me hungry for stories that entertain. There are weaker stories in the collection (“Afraid”, for one, which however can pass off as a mild precursor to the chilling “Saw” movie-trilogy) but most are – well, thrilling. My favourite is “Born Bad”, of a daughter who turns out differently than what her parents hoped. Or so it seems, at first. Deaver also wove in Sherlock Holmes in one of his tales, set in the late 19th century, “The Westphalian Ring”, a tale of cunning and cerebral one-upmanship. These, and the rest, are all delicious tales, serving mini-shots of adrenalin to keep you turning pages past your bedtime.

I also bought a copy of Bill Bryson’s The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid, not fiction but a true-life account of his life, growing up in a small city in America in the 1950s. This copy, I snagged at a stationery store in Subang Jaya’s Taipan, half an hour before closing time, when we had to make an emergency purchase of art supplies for our son. For some reason, the store frontlined this title (a pile of it greets you right as you walk in) and I got it for RM30, not such a bad deal. I am a quarter-way through and appreciating that while we humans may live continents apart, we can still laugh and appreciate one another’s growing up experience. It’s refreshing, at any rate, to know that Bryson’s Mom wasn’t such a great cook (I thought all Moms of that era were!), and seemed to be just as harassed as today’s Moms are, at juggling kids and work and husband. Bryson’s account of fifties America though make me nostalgic for more innocent times, but not the fifties as that time, for Malaysia, was a time of great impending change. While America was in its glory years, our country was negotiating for a new life – for Independence from the British. We’ve come a long way, Malaysia, but there’s still – oh so much we have to learn.

Yesterday, at Popular bookstore in Ikano, when the kids bought their Rotten School and Singapore Ghost Stories titles (Elder is already writing his own ghost stories, so there’s a Tunku Halim and a James Lee in the making, perhaps), I couldn’t resist snagging another fiction title. This time, by author Jodi Picoult: Nineteen Minutes. A tale of a seventeen year old boy, a victim of school bullies, who decides on revenge and shoots dead ten of his schoolmates in a rampage that takes – you guessed it – nineteen minutes. The story is on the why, as his Mother pieces together past events and people who could have driven her son over the edge. I’m still on page 39, and Picoult’s characterisations are compelling me on. There were other dark, complex storylines by the same author at the bookstore, and I suspect I’ll be reading more of Picoult should the rest of the story bear up the first forty pages.

Last night, old friends, let’s call them Senor and Senora Snarky thrust another title into my hands, which they say I MUST read: Khaled Hossaini’s The Kite Runner. Don’t watch the movie, they advised, but read the book. Their siblings have all read the book, and it’s mandatory “family reading”, so how could I say No? This erm – snarky - couple is probably reading aloud passages to their beautiful baby boy, Snarky Junior, as I type this! I haven’t started on the tome (I was secretly hoping I could get off the literary guilt wagon by just watching the movie), but with recommendations such as this, how could I not read the novel?

And now, we come to today, when Chet – who I had not met for some time – texted me this morning to join her at The Atria. Now, one cannot go to The Atria without visiting the Big Bookstore, that cavern of discounted books that will most likely deplete you of your last few Ringgits. It’s particularly dangerous when Big Bookstore has a sale, as it did today.

I spent around RM73 but bought about ten titles for the kids (Animorphs for RM1 each!) that included volumes on Space and Architecture, and – after Chet left – found two titles for myself: Zadie Smith’s The Autograph Man, for RM12, and Philip Roth’s Everyman (hardcover edition), for RM19.90. I greatly enjoyed Zadie Smith’s On Beauty – it was rich, and funny without being insensitive – and look forward to this celebrity-inspired tale. I’ve never read Philip Roth but for some inexplicable reason, I’d had this title on my To-Read list for at least a year. The tale is of a 70-year long life that ends up becoming – well, not much at all. Isn’t that the greatest fear in all of us, we everyday people, that we will die not ever becoming a fraction of what we hope to become?

I do have to mention some other titles that caught my eye at the big bookstore: Monica Ali’s The Brick Lane, Nick Hornby’s The Polysyllabic Spree (if it wasn’t for the price, I would have snapped up this hardback), The Poe Shadow by Matthew Pearl (I’d read and respected The Dante Club), The Secret History by Donna Tartt, and the seemingly-delicious ”killer Mum” tale, Notting Hell (though this is a bit too light for my current mood). Chet also highlighted a Julia Cameron title, “The Sound of Paper“, but since I failed to finish her Artist’s Way, I left that one alone.

Oh, and I was tempted by Jeremy Paxman’s The English, but the author’s name somehow reminds me of Jeremy Clarkson, and he now reminds me of a friend I sorely miss, a wonderful, exasperating conversationalist who is no longer around, who used to lift my spirits with witty asides (off-the-mark though some may be) and colourful, candid remarks. The friend was one of the few who could make me turn to the dictionary, so you see why I miss the company.

Anyway, there’s no better company than the company of books. The words may plunge you into deep depression but it’s the sort of depression you feel after watching a particularly sad movie; in other words, it’s sadness from a distance. The real world is the one that has the ability to cut you up and make you bleed. Real people (authors and gentle readers aside, of course) are the ones who gleefully mutilate and feast on torn and bleeding wounds. In stories, you find heroes and acts of courage and heroism, people who stand up for what’s right; in real life, it seems to be very hard to find such people.

I still have hope, though, that not all hero-worship is in vain.

For now, I shall return to the stories, where heroism is thankfully still in good supply.

Filed under: Books, Reads