#AtoZChallenge: N for Nusantara

I’m tired, so I’m going to cannibalise part of my dissertation essay (EN5528 Assessment 2: Writer’s Journal) for this one, updated with the new name of the novel (i.e., The Weight of Strength changed to Amok).

Setting the Scene: How Centring Nusantara Changed the Backdrop of the Novel

[One] one development in the final version of Amok is its deliberate setting in a magical version of Nusantara, which first started during the planning module. Part of this epiphany came from reading books within the diversity movement, including The Weight of Our Sky (Alkaf, 2019), Natalie Tan’s Book of Luck & Fortune (Lim, 2019), Lost Gods (Yongo, 2018) and Three (Udayasankar, 2015). As I said in a recent blog post:

“…diversity is what people are looking for now. People of colour are looking to see themselves represented in fiction—and it can’t just be the colour of their skin. Not just being the token brown guy. It has to also be the way they speak, the way they mix languages, the thoughts and feelings that cannot be divorced from who they are. 

We read to make sense of the world, to discover who we are. But even more, we write to discover who we are, who we are becoming. Even if it’s only to say that we’re leaving parts of our heritage behind.”  

Amok draws primarily from my background in Malaysia, which has cultural similarities with neighbouring Singapore, Brunei, and Indonesia. This sub geographical area, historically referred to as Nusantara or the Malay Archipelago, was once united under the Majapahit and Srivijayan empires, and shares deeper cultural and linguistic roots as compared to the more Sino-influenced members of Southeast Asia such as Thailand, Cambodia, and Vietnam.

My research included reviewing the different ruling dynasties in the Malay Peninsula, with Perak, Johor, and Melaka (Malacca) as the primary royal families of note. I decided to follow the structure of the Malaccan Sultanate, from which the Perak and Johor Sultanates were later established. 

Whilst Malacca had a well-defined hierarchy in their court structure, I decided to group these officials into the “Majlis Maha”, a sort of council instead. A historian would probably point out that the recreation of the court in this manner is inaccurate—I do not claim to have represented them accurately, having taken liberties in my recreation and modernised the setting somewhat from its 14th- to 15th- century roots. It would be good to note here that most medieval fantasy novels are not 100% historically accurate either, just “accurate” within the common tropes or popular imagination of the genre and time period (Douglas, 2019). As Stuart Lee noted in his talk at the 2018 ‘Here Be Dragons’, The Oxford Fantasy Literature Summer School, many writers use the medieval period to avoid infodumps as it is a very familiar starting point (Lee, 2018). This has created a romanticising of the period with accepted deviation of facts, especially since they are often secondary worlds, not historical fiction. 

Using the Malaccan Sultanate as a base also led to some changes in the geography and landscape. In my original imagining, Bayangan and Terang were separated by land and desert. In the final version, the countries are separated by the Straits, somewhat like the Straits of Malacca between the Malay Peninsula and Sumatra. This was in direct response to the centricity of sea voyage to the Nusantara mindset. From Majapahit to Srivijaya, and later Singapura (Singapore) and Malacca, these dynasties were founded on control of the seas for trade and commerce. Popular stories revere the legendary Hang Tuah, Malacca’s most prominent Laksamana (Admiral). Unfortunately, I was not able to include that in the novel [Amok], except for Tok Rizal’s slightly deus ex-machina reappearance in Chapter 31.

In keeping with Nusantara setting, I decided to use Malay terms and names in creating the places and the characters. For example, Simson is the translation of Samson in the Malay Bible; Yosua is a form of Joshua. Some of the names are based on the meaning of the words—Maha as a prefix infers “great”, implying the greatness or strength of the capital city and the sultan; Suci means “holy” in a literal reference to it being the holy city and religious centre; the Secretkeeper’s name, “Ramalan”, means “prediction” or “prophecy” in direct relation to her gift of seeing visions. This then, wasn’t the creation of a new language ala Tolkien, but the use of modern Malay in this secondary world. 

###

That's it for today!

Head back to my theme reveal and master list.

Go check out the other A to Z Bloggers!

###

The Tale of the Hostage Prince (Absolution, #1.5) 

Yosua wears an uneasy crown. Although he is now Raja of Bayangan, he still longs for the land of his birth where everything was much simpler…and less deadly.

But peace doesn’t come easily, not for a twenty-year-old servant playacting at being king.

With his parents brutally murdered and his uncle bent on revenge, Yosua must decide where his loyalties truly lie. With his only remaining relative and the kingdom he has claimed? Or with his best friend Mikal and the sultanate that raised him as a hostage?

BUY NOW!

International purchases books2read.com/HostagePrince

Malaysia Teaspoon Publishing

Add on Goodreads

#CoverReveal: Amok

EVERYONE! IT'S AMOK'S COVER REVEAL DAY!

What is faith, except hope in desperation?

All Putera Mikal wants is to gain the Amok Strength, the supernatural power granted by Kudus to the Mahan royal family. No matter how religiously Mikal keeps his vows, Kudus still denies him the Strength—whilst his father, Sultan Simson, flaunts the Strength despite his blatant defiance of the Temple and the priests’ visions of coming doom.

Then the prophecies come true.

Taken captive, Mikal must find a way to liberate his people and restore his throne in Maha—and the key to this is the Amok Strength. But what does it take to gain Kudus’ favour?

***

Amok releases in one month, on 24 June 2021, but you can preorder your copy now!

  

Amazon | Teaspoon Publishing

***

Love the cover? Check out our cover artist's website for more: Jiwosophy

Jiwo also explains his process in this thread:

@natzers approached me to illustrate and design the Cover for her "Absolution" Series, starting with the 1st of the trilogy, "Amok". Here's a thread documenting the creation process from beginning to completion.@teaspoonpub #CoverReveal #coverart #bookcover pic.twitter.com/SMdKxdUmYy

— jiwosophy (@jiwosophy) May 24, 2021

***

About the Author (aka me!)

Anna Tan grew up in Malaysia, the country that is not Singapore. She is interested in Malay/Nusantara and Chinese legends and folklore in exploring the intersection of language, culture, and faith.

Anna has an MA in Creative Writing: The Novel under a Chevening scholarship and is the President of the Malaysian Writers Society. She can be found tweeting as @natzers and forgetting to update annatsp.com.

Find her online: Website | Instagram | Facebook | Twitter

***

Visit other stops on the Cover Reveal! Their posts will be going live throughout the day, so I'll update the links as and when I see them. But you can go ahead and see all their other bookish posts too :)

C.O. Bonham

Moments For My Thoughts

Sholee's Sphere

Mermaird | Mermaird on Instagram!

a Sith reader

Runalong The Shelves

H. L. Burke | burkesdragons

L.A. Thornhill

Kara J Lovett

Jason Joyner

Abigail Falanga

Of Endings and Goodbyes

There’s always a sense of leaving.

Today I sit on the 607 to White City, to what may be my last Ealing write-in. I usually read on the bus, but today I watch the scenery and feel a sense of... nostalgia? A sense of saying goodbye? It doesn't make sense. It’s only been a year.

Not long enough to set down roots. Not long enough to belong. Not really.

But there is a sadness in saying goodbye. I’m maudlin. I don’t leave the UK until mid-December but I am moving away from this neighbourhood in West London down to the south.

Spotify croons You’re not finished yet. You’re not finished yet.

I’m not. I have an essay to hand in that I’m procrastinating on because of this finality.

These are neighbourhoods I’ve never explored, but have always thought one day, one day I’ll get off this bus at a random spot in between and I’ll see what you have to offer. 

I never have. Now I never will. They’re just shops. A suburb. I don’t do this back home. Maybe I should.

I take photos. It’s a beautiful day. I want to remember this place. It has been good to me.

You have been good to me.

~

I don’t write at the write-in today. I read and reread my essay, tweaking it to sound a little bit more academic, a little less like an irreverent Terry Pratchett-esque commentary. Deleting my snarky footnotes does the trick.

The discussion revolves around reasons to punch a priest and the differences between the Catholic Church and the Church of England. We should read more Austen to figure out what a parish is, one says.

I order the cream tea, telling myself it’s not the last cream tea I’ll have in England. I have another three months, more than enough time for tea and scones. I finish editing the essay, leaving only the references to be formatted. I have been putting off formatting the references for half a week now. What's another few hours?

I am restless. I'm always restless.



I leave early, at half-past four, to make it in time for church.

The Piccadilly is shakier than usual. I hate the Piccadilly line but the Metropolitan doesn’t serve Ealing. There doesn’t seem to be a direct train to Uxbridge coming anytime soon, so I take the Piccadilly to Rayners Lane and change to the Metropolitan there.

~

Church is a series of telling people that I'm done, I'm almost done, I'm leaving soon. I have plans, I don't know what my plans are, I'm working on plans. I hope to tour Europe before I go, I don't know if I will see you again.

It's a rash of goodbyes, some I take care to tell that it may be my last service, it will be my last evening service. Next week, my halls will kick me out at ten in the morning, so I'll have to wake up for the morning service. We have a life group BBQ after that, and then I'll be gone.

We have dinner.

I walk home in the gathering dark. It's getting dark earlier, there's a chill in the air. I've gone from complaining about the stifling heat to thinking I should close one of my windows. It's not that cold yet, 3/4 of my windows stay open. I don't use my scarf, though I brought it out.

I fix my references.

Submit my essay.

I'm done.

~ 

There's always a sense of leaving; all things come to an end.

You make all things new.

AAAAANNNNNDDD Draft 2 is done

Technically, it was done on Wednesday, but I was too lazy to write a blog post.

Here are the stats in all their beauty!

I should write more but I am lazy. And hungry.

Next steps: send to betas, start edits.

#musicmonday: Take Over | Shane & Shane

Thirsty, I'm thirsty for you
In a dry land with no drink, I need you
I know you made a home, inside this heart of stone
So turn it into flesh, Spirit, soften it
I give you all I have, I'm holding nothing back
Jesus, I am yours Jesus, I am yours

Take over, Lover of my Soul
Take control
I surrender, there's nothing I want more
Than to know you, Lord

What am I supposed to do with all my kingdoms next to you
You're the Lord, You're the Lord
I could gain the world and more
It's all nothing next to you
My reward, my reward 

---

The Weight of Strength: Chapter 28.

The queen looks amused. “Oh please. Don’t think I’m that stupid. Your god won’t listen to you, not now that you’ve broken all your vows and there is no priest here to reconsecrate you. You’re impure and if there is one thing I know about your god, is that he doesn’t listen to those who aren’t holy enough for him.”

Ayahanda just keeps his hands up as he repeats the litany, more voices joining in. Until I join in. He turns at the sound of my voice and nods at me. 

“You who listen to the broken, hear my pleas now. I have fallen far away, I have spurned Your Word and Your call. Now You have chastised me, You have brought me to realise the error of my ways. You who are ever-gracious, ever-merciful, ever-forgiving, I pray, forgive me now. Forgive me my wandering, my fear, my doubt, my anger, my bitterness. Take it. Take it!” His voice is a broken roar, hoarse in its earnesty. 

“Oh Kudus…”

He doesn’t complete it, but every single Mahan in the hall takes up the cry, “Maha Esa, berkatilah hambaMu dengan kuasa ajaibMu.”

Day 36: Not that far behind the #wordcountgoals, also #shakespeare

Writing comes in spurts.

I find that if I write for long hours and get about 5k to 8k in the day, I can't really write much the next day unless a) I'm under a really tight deadline, or b) it's a really exciting part of the story and I just have to keep going.

Right now I'm in the "I know what's supposed to happen but I don't know how to write it" stage so everything is just SO HARD. So I'm in procrastination mode.

Therefore, behold the great plateau.

It's getting better, though. I think. Because I HAVE A DEADLINE, so I'm panicking myself (needlessly) to actually get through writing it because once it's down I'll be able to actually edit it and make it work but as long as it's not written, it's just this nebulous cloud of idea. Or something.

---

To date I've watched three shows at Shakespeare's Globe Theatre, because you can get cheap £5 tickets and stand like a peasant for 2 plus hours. It's not so bad. I have strong legs. haha.

The Merry Wives of Windsor was slightly confusing because I went in without any idea what the play was about. The second act was pretty good though. It's not quite the kind of comedy I like, but eh.

Comedy of Errors was much better, or at least I liked the storyline better, because it's more due to chance and honest mistakes rather than being... lewd. This is probably the most accessible of the plays so far. The cast for this was also very brilliant--better than the first.

Pericles was an aesthetic choice due to having read The Porpoise. If you did not have background knowledge of the myth or the source story, you'd just be very, very confused, especially since it jumps from royal family to royal family. There are also long bits of narration in between, in classic Greek drama style, so it's different, I guess.

Day 10: I hate everything I've written

It's technically three weeks since I've started, but somewhere in the middle of last week I decided that I needed to change my POV. So instead of writing in the third person alternating between Mikal's and Yosua's POVs, I'm now doing first person present in Mikal's voice. And that's restarted the timer to something like day 10. 

I'm not entirely sure I like it. I'm not entirely sure it works. But it's what I've got. I'm at that stage where I both love and hate everything I've written. And I don't know how to fix it. I just have to finish this thing.

I'm trying to push myself to get to 30K this weekend so that I'm back on my original schedule. I don't really have to--I can probably pick up the slack over the weeks, but it feels better to go back to the plan. Mostly because the plan is structured such that I will have downtime to edit in between writing and to do other stuff. I worry that if I don't at least get somewhere near the goal posts I'm just going to keep freaking and panicking because that's what I do.

Anyway. 30K might not actually happen by tomorrow, but if I push a little, I should start June with 40K and can take time off to actually plan my Great UK Dissertation Road Trip. :D

---

I think I'm afraid of first person because it's too close, too raw. I'm obviously not a sixteen-year-old boy, but the core of what he's struggling with is all too real. 

I'm afraid that the yearning will grow all too strong, and that the bitterness and the grief will overpower the rest of the story. 

I need to reach the catharsis of the story, but there's also a chance that where Mikal finds his strength, where he finds his faith and his power and his certainty, I will only lose mine. 

---

I have never been certain. I don't know if I ever will be. 

My April/May West End spree

Right after formal classes ended last month, I went a little crazy and decided to buy tickets to as many shows as I could afford. Obviously, I'm also rather cheapskate and I need to save money, so I ended up buying cheap, upper circle tickets to three shows (altogether less than GBP100, so yay me).

My selection felt rather eclectic overall so I thought I'd talk a little about why I picked the shows and also what I thought about them. 

The first show I watched was Betrayal on 15 April, for two reasons: I've still regretted missing the PenangPAC run with Marina Tan and OHLOOKIT'STOMHIDDLESTON. Lame? Maybe. But I'd heard that the story is amazing, and it has a famous actor, so why not? 

Well, the show was fantastic. I do have to admit that I didn't always pay close attention to the acting, mostly because I was fascinated by the staging as well as the moving pieces of the stage. (This might be a thing with me; I remember being super distracted by the moving stages in Lion King too LOL). I was waaaayyyy at the back so I might probably have missed some frontal projection cues if they were blocked by the overhang (and maybe super close facial expressions), but it was a really good vantage point to see the lines between the actors, the use of space, that revolving stage indication of going back in time. It was a really minimalistic staging (except for that revolving thing) that played a lot with lights and shadows--the silhouettes were so sharp you could actually just watch that instead of the actors. 

I loved Tom Hiddleston's and Charlie Cox's performances, but Zawe Ashton just gave me the feeling that she was trying a little too hard? I don't know what it was but somewhere between the tone of her voice and some of her actions/reactions, I just got a little annoyed at her. I might probably be judging her a little too harshly (always that but *I* wouldn't have made those acting choices) but I could just be disliking the character, though (which by implication would mean Ashton did a great job, so idk).

The next one was The Phantom of the Opera on 29 April. A classic choice-- loved the songs, wanted to see it because I'd seen the movie and wanted to see how they could do all that on stage. Realised that I have fuzzy memories of the plot, so there were some bits where I was like, eh, did that happen? Not sure if there were substantial changes in the movie version, though. (I have read the book, the book is 0% like the musical. Well, 20%. The characters and the basic setup are the same-ish. If I recall correctly (it's been decades), it was very much focused on the phantom, I think, and Christine was really a side note. But reading the book you'd be like, how did this become the musical?!)

Anyways, mixed feelings about this. I'd been pre-warned by Choon Ean that it might not have aged well, seeing it's a really old show and it's using the same original stage, so whatever was new/fresh/impressive then would seem kind of old-fashioned now. 

I liked all the dungeon scenes, with the moving bits and the lights and the smoke and the candles and the tilting walkways and the boat! (See, moving stages gets mentioned again haha). The singing was impressive, the staging and the acting and the mirrors and illusions... everything was AWESOME, except the one key bit that spoiled everything. 

When the chandelier "fell", you could literally SEE THE STAGE HANDS WALK OUT THROUGH THE CURTAINS AND CATCH IT. 

Another thought that struck me though, was that my memory of the Raoul-Christine-Phantom triangle seemed rather romantic? The Phantom had a sort of sad romantic vibe, like, aww you like this girl so much but she doesn't love you in return, poor puppy let me give you a hug. Seeing it again, the Phantom was all kinds of creepy. Like the friendly neighbourhood dad/teacher/helpful uncle/starstruck fan, who suddenly turns into a perv. And I was going like, NO THIS IS NOT ROMANTIC. The Phantom is AWFUL. And then the songs don't seem so romantic anymore. lol. 

Finally, I caught Fiddler on the Roof yesterday! This was 100% nostalgia and throwback to the time when we were stuck in a house in Sweden and had the movie on replay until we could sing all the songs word for word. I can't do that now, but I *know* all the songs. 

It was fantastic! No moving stages for this one--it was flat and static boo--but the scene changes were as interesting to watch as the show itself, so yay. I might decide to watch this one again from a better vantage point--the place I was sitting had a bit of a restricted view, so there was this corner/angle of the stage that I couldn't quite see. Idk yet though, if it comes down to it, I'd rather watch a new show than to re-watch one. We'll see. 

---

As a minor writing update, this is today's stats!

I didn't do all this today, it's just that I didn't update my stats yesterday, being out and all. Things will seem more slowgoing from now on though, since I've reached the end of my pre-edited stuff. From now on, it's actual writing and slogging!

Deep dive into the novel: Day 2

So. The plan is to go into a deep dive from May 6 - June 30 and write 10K per week to reach 80K (and the end of the novel) over 8 weeks.

Unfortunately, due to events over the last week (last minute plans, unexpected laziness), I did not manage to clear up all the things I wanted/needed to do before the start of the week. Which meant all of yesterday and half of today was spent catching up and finalising consignment statements and accounts, chasing people to reply emails and generally a lot of hair pulling. Which means I'm starting off 1.5 days late.

The good part is that I've already got working drafts of chapters 1 - 3, approx 8K-ish words, so I do have some time to get into the groove. I've thus spent most of my time reediting chapter 1 today. And googling the Malaccan sultanate as well as church hierarchical titles. (This will make sense eventually. hahahaha)

So I'm still sorta on track!

I don't know how often I'll post updates (I might do a dailyish blog, but I might not) so if you want to keep tabs (and push me on), here's my goal tracker.

Note: The dissertation actually only needs max 40K, but well, I might as well get the whole novel done, no? The other goal is to get an agent before I leave, for which I do need a completed novel. lol.

Limbo

When do you stop?

I feel like I'm going, I'm moving, I'm pushing, but I'm just going in endless circles, pushing against nothing, achieving nothing. I want to be done with this, to move on, but I don't want to, it's too much effort.

I'm exhausted from doing nothing, honestly. Or rather, from telling myself to do things that I then fail to do.

All I can tell myself now is that in 1.5 weeks, this will end. With that stupid assignment that's dragging out of the way, and the last of the formal classes done, I'll be able to sit and focus and write.

No distractions.

No excuses.

But for now, I have a lot of things to get out of the way by the end of March.

... how is it already March?!

I signed up for the #atozchallenge and need your help!

Okay, in line with my facebook fast for Lent, I now need to find *ALL NEW WAYS* to procrastinate on homework, and this idea came to me in the shower. (Shower thoughts are the best.)

I've been doing a module on writing in the community and in education, so what better way to procrastinate than to put into practice all the things I've learnt! HAHAH. At least it's productive! Somewhat.

This April, I will be writing flash fiction based on words suggested by YOU, yes all you people who are reading this post. All you have to do is open this google sheet and give me random words/themes/thoughts that begin with the letter for the day. (Or leave a comment here and I'll add them in.) The only rule is let's keep it kid-friendly, eh? Bonuses if you go the mythological/folktale route.

Yes, that's it.

GIVE ME A WORD

My past A-to-Z Challenge posts/themes:
2011: Fiction, on a now defunct blog. I think it became a single, interconnected story
2012: Unrelated flash fiction, words (mostly) chosen from the last word for each letter in the dictionary.
2013: Unrelated flash fiction, mostly influenced by icebreakers and KOL.
2014: Flash fiction: mythical creatures. This eventually became Coexist.
2015: Worship songs, because I was doing camp nano and couldn't write two things at the same time.
2016: Anna's A to Z of Worship Leading, which was compiled into an ebook.
2017: Princesses, which comes with pretty pictures on ind.elvenstar.net.
2018: Absolution, where I merged campnano with A to Z and ended up blogging about my WIP, which is still my WIP, and an offshoot of which will now be my dissertation. Don't you love it when all your projects become one. massive. *insert swearwordy* thingamabob.
2019: Community writing HA.

p/s If you want to throw in a guest post on any of the letters, let me know! Email me at posts [at] annatsp [dot] com and we'll work something out.

---

It's the Blogging from A to Z Challenge's tenth anniversary! This is my ninth year with them, so that's pretty great. A quick summary of what it is: we blog a post a day (except Sundays) following the alphabet! Anything goes--there's a wide range of topics from everyday stuff, photos, music, research, locations, art, fiction, as long as it follows the sequence of the alphabet. Then everyone hops over to other blogs on the list to see what they're writing about!

If you've always wanted to start a blog but didn't know how, this is a quick, easy way to get started. It comes with a guide of posts for the month (A to Z) and it comes with an inbuilt, interactive community (other participants) who will cheer you on the way. 

#fridayflash: The Other Woman

It’s the announcement that he’s leaving that surprises Iman the most.

“Why now?” she asks. The baby is due in two months. Their daughter Tulen is not yet four. She can’t do this alone.

Bakar stares at her. “You knew? Of course you knew.” His face pinches as he folds his arms and spits, “You and your witchery,” before turning away. 

It’s not witchery, but Iman doesn’t have the energy to argue. “It’s not—I’ve let you—” She drops her hand and stares at the wooden spoon she hadn’t realised she’d been waving about. “Just… why now?”

He slumps on their tattered couch, runs a hand over his face, scratches at his beard and mumbles something.

Iman leans forward. “What? I didn’t catch that.”

He looks up, exasperated, and repeats louder, “I said, she’s pregnant. Can’t you read that off my mind? Do I suddenly need to spell everything out for you now?”

“But I’m pregnant too.” It comes out in a bewildered rush she hadn’t meant to speak aloud. I’m pregnant too and he’s also your child. And Tulen is your daughter. You should be there for them. For us. Not this other woman.

Bakar just gives her a weird look. “So?”

“So? So? What do you mean ‘so’? This is your child. I am your wife. She is nothing. A whore.” The girl is not a whore. She’s a sixteen-year-old kid flattered that a good-looking man ten years her senior is paying her interest. Iman knows that but she doesn’t care. She wants things to go back to the way it was before. Before, when she was cooking lunch and ignoring the fact that she knew her husband was cheating on her. He’d done it four years ago when she was pregnant with Tulen, as if a few months without sex would be the death of him. She’d ignored it then too. Maybe she shouldn’t have.

He sighs and leans his head back against the backrest, covering his eyes with his forearm. Iman steels herself to fight, for the careless words she knows will cut her to the bone. She’s thrown when all he says is, “Her parents are kicking her out of the house. I can’t bring her back here. That’s not fair to you.”

Just as quickly, her self-righteous anger deflates. It’s nice to know her husband has learnt some responsibility, even if it’s not towards her. She leaves him to stew on the couch and heads back into the kitchen, where she’d been making soup. It’s starting to boil over and she hurries to lift the heavy pot off the coals.

Iman stirs the soup and tastes it absently, her gaze fixed on the blue sky outside the window. The sun is warm, but she is cold. It’s not until she feels heat on her cheeks that she realises she’s crying. I told you so, she imagines Rahsia saying, You knew he would cheat on you. She hates this talent that she and Rahsia share, this ability to read minds. There are many things about her marriage she would rather have not known.

They need to talk through this. Iman washes her face and sets the table. As much as Bakar assumes she can read everything on his mind, that’s not true. Her talent is weak and untrained—the main reason she knows about the girl is because Bakar dreams very loudly about her every night when he sleeps in their bed.

Bakar takes his place at the head of the table when she tells him lunch is ready.

“Where’s Tulen?” he asks.

“Out with Rahsia,” she says. Her best friend had come over this morning and taken the four-year-old out shopping for her upcoming birthday. Iman wonders if Rahsia had known something, whether she’d read something off Bakar’s mind. Had she planned for them to be alone? Iman wouldn’t put it past Rahsia.

They start eating.

Iman breaks the silence. “How long?”

“Huh?” 

“How far along is she? Her pregnancy?”

Bakar shrugs as he spoons more soup messily into his mouth. “Long enough to show a little.”

“How long have you been seeing her?” She could guess, but she doesn’t want to. She wants to force a confession out of him, as if that would make her feel any better and him any guiltier.

He manages to almost look contrite. “Six months.”

“So the minute you knew I was pregnant.”

He doesn’t say anything, just continues eating.

“You do know you’ll need her parents’ consent for marriage.”

His spoon clatters, spilling soup everywhere. “Marriage? What?”

Iman’s anger burns cold. “You’re leaving me to take care of your underaged mistress because she’s pregnant and you’re not going to actually marry her? You’re not going to legitimise your own child? What were you planning to do? Just live together so everyone would think she’s a cheap whore?”

“No! I mean yes! I—How do you even know how old she is?”

“I snooped, okay. Happy? You were dreaming about her every night you were home and I was angry so I wanted to find out who she was and I—” 

It hadn’t been her finest moment, storming up to the house, banging on the door demanding to see that slut only to find a pair of confused parents and a frightened teenager. She’d pretended she’d gotten the wrong address. 

Iman shakes her head, hoping she isn’t the one who has caused this tragedy. No, it was his fault for sleeping with her. “What did she tell you?”

“She said she was nineteen.”

Iman snorts.

“I’m sorry.”

She knows he’s not, but she nods. “You’d better marry her. You’ve already ruined her life.”

---

So I have all these short pieces I've been doing for class and decided it was time to post one up.

This one is a snippet on Tulen's mother, and how/why she separates from her husband, so it happens before both Secretkeeper and Absolution. If you've read the short Shattered Memories on The Painted Hall Collection, you'll recognise Iman and Rahsia. 

How do you measure productivity?

I don't know whether to count the last two days as productive or not. I did stuff, but they weren't really big stuff?

I'd planned to go for a book launch/signing on Thursday because part of our homework is to review a live literature event. But then after an incredibly full day of classes + Writers series talk + dinner on Wednesday, I just didn't feel like moving at all. So I spent the day mostly in bed, reading Dreams of the Dark Sky, which I'd gotten as an ARC for review. Then I forced myself out of bed to go to cell group and then stayed up late doing a beta read.

Which of course meant that I was terribly unproductive this morning, though I managed to do some receipts for MYWriters. In the afternoon and evening, I edited a couple of blog posts for Teaspoon Publishing, wrote the review and scheduled it for next week, updated some links on the website(s) and sent off some super random microfiction for a postcard project.

It sounds like I did a lot but actually... I've been procrastinating on assignments again (said live literature event, which I could have gone for a library talk on some Holocaust book tonight; 1K word short on setting; interview questions for Paths essay) so it feels like I didn't actually do anything of importance.

Well, I washed my towels. I suppose that's important.

Snowwwwww

Our Chevening Malaysia whatsapp group is filled with pictures and videos of snow because... what can I say? All these tropical kids have never seen snow before. lololol. (Well, I have, but still.)

AT ANY RATE.

Critical Commentary has also been submitted, so that's last term's Elements of Fiction assignment all done. 

I also wrote a long email detailing the type of posts and materials needed for a blog tour, so I decided I might as well turn that into a post for my self-publishing blog next month. Now I'm just prepping for tomorrow's classes, drinking lots of tea, and looking forward to starting two beta reads!

Done! And a #RealmMakers kickstarter!

I'm primarily here to say I HAVE FINISHED MY PORTFOLIO AND I AM NOT CHANGING A SINGLE WORD. Noooope.

(Now on to finalise that essay.)

But I am also secondarily here to say SUPPORT THIS KICKSTARTER! Even better, ask everyone you know to support this kickstarter so that we can get to the stretch goals! 

Because more money = more stories, and more stories = opportunities to submit! To quote:

Above, I also mentioned that we would have the ability to add more stories to the anthology if we raise funds beyond our initial goal. For every additional $500 we raise, we'll add another author to the book.

Well, ain't that cool :p (scuttles off to plan a hero story)

Full press release below the line!

*

#bookreview: Catch-22 | Joseph Heller

Catch-22 by Joseph Heller
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

So on my second read, mainly because it's on the reading list, I think I enjoyed it a little better.

It's still confusing, but maybe a little less so because I have some sort of a basis to start with. I do find that Heller executes the little time jumps back and forth very seamlessly, so that you do feel like you're reading one single novel, rather than several pieces stitched together. Heller leads you through a narrative that flows from timeline to timeline, character to character, scene to scene, though gentle jump-off points. Sometimes this seems jarring if you stop reading at a chapter and come into the next chapter that seems to be about something totally different, but if you backtrack a little to the end of the previous chapter, you can kind of see the little clues that the narrator is going to change tack soon. (Not all the time, but quite often) That doesn't mean it isn't disorienting, though--I found myself mostly keeping track of when it was by noting how many missions they're supposed to achieve at that point in time. (Colonel Cathcart keeps raising the number.)

One thing to remember in reading Catch-22 (at least for me) is that it's meant to be satire. Which means everything that happens IS going to be over-the-top (whether funny or stupid or ridiculous) and it's not supposed to be realistic in any sense.

Though I suppose death and dying is realistic.

I wouldn't say I particularly loved or hated this book. I rather enjoyed bits of it. But it's not the kind of story--or the kind of wit--that I particularly like.

View all my reviews

#bookreview: Suspense week, with a lot of blood!

Baptism by Max Kinnings
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Well, I generally like crime thrillers, so this one was pretty fun to read. It was also an interesting turn (for modern-day thrillers) of having a Christian terrorist instead of a Muslim one. The use of symbolism (baptism of fire and water) was chilling.

Kinnings moves things along quite quickly with the jumps between perspectives and places through the use of time, tracking movements of the main players in this drama throughout the day. He does start at a strange place though, somewhere probably in the middle (well, 10 hours in, if I remember correctly) before jumping back to the start of the story. I'm not quite sure what that was for, because it wasn't anything that we really needed to know at the start? Unless he wanted to start us off with a tragic death and high stakes.

The story is also particularly twisty. Every time you think there's going to be a solution, something else happens to make things worse. Yet I also spent a lot of time thinking: can people really be that deluded? At the risk of being a little spoilery, there are at least three characters who don't act like normal, rational people. Well, the terrorist, for one, because obviously there's something wrong with him to commit such a heinous crime and for no obvious reason, other than "God told me to". The second is his assistant, who just follows along and accepts everything blindly. It feels as if there must be something wrong with them; maybe they're defective? Mentally ill? A little slow? And the third one, unexpectedly, is a person so blinded by ambition and fear that he would turn to murder to save his own skin? It feels a little unbelievable... but then again it's fiction so... idk.

Overall, I enjoyed it, though there are little niggling things (as mentioned above) and also the fact that the people in Cruor Christi who knew, or had at least some forewarning, of the things to come were absolutely useless and brainless. Maybe I'm a little too rational for a story where almost every character is acting irrationally.


The Intrusions by Stav Sherez
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

The Intrusions takes you into the realm of cybercrime. It kind of reminds me of that TV series my mum watches, Law and Order I think? Being book 3 of the series (I did get books 1 and 2 because the series sounded interesting, but I started with this first because it's on the reading list), Sherez alludes to things that presumably happened in the earlier books. Nothing that very jarring, just some odd moments of confusion going, "uh, what was that then?"

The thing about The Intrusions is that, at times, it feels like the murder itself is only part of the story, instead of being the main focus of this detective novel. A lot of the complications in the investigation seems to arise from the personal problems of the DI, Carrigan rather than any active intervention on the part of the killer; in a way, this echoes Rebus in Rankin's famous series. Actually, I think I had quite a lot of throwbacks to Rebus when reading this, although there wasn't any random song titles thrown in and Carrigan isn't quite as depressed and drunk or repressedly traumatised.

One thing that really threw me off quite a bit was having a female character named Singh because in Malaysia, Singh = male, Kaur = female; or, at least, that's what I've been told. Maybe that doesn't work in the UK because of the insistence on surnames?

View all my reviews

#bookreview: Global Fiction

Back on the reading list, we read two stories deemed "Global Fiction", one of which was written by one of my tutors, Christy Lefteri. So obviously I had to get her to sign my book :p
(She said, "This is so weird." But why should it be? haha)

By the Sea by Abdulrazak Gurnah
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

By the Sea is beautiful, a meandering story of remembrance that takes you from Zanzibar to London, through Malaya and Persia, a story of business, love, and revenge.

Wandering through Saleh Omar's memories and Latif Mahmud's accusations, Abdulrazak Gurnah reminds you again and again that what you perceive as a child may not always be true. Related tenuously by marriage, the two men's lives have been intertwined by a series of slights and betrayal, each branch of the family grasping for the property and wealth of the deceased as their own family's prosperity rises and falls over time. Behind the scene, pulling the strings, is Hussein, who both entrances and tricks, then disappears home to Persia to let things fall out as they may.

Yet it's not Hussein himself who brings about their downfall. It's their pride and greed, hidden behind a veneer of religion and holiness, supported by a belief in their own perception of right.

At times, the story seems to drift too far into the past, and you end up on distant shores wondering why Abdulrazak has left you there, but down each branching river, you end up by the same shore, realising that each diverging stream had an effect that ultimately led to Saleh's persecution and need for asylum. And it's by the sea in London, where Saleh tries to build a new life--or at least to let what's left of his life end peacefully--that he has to face the painful past and finally lay it to rest.


A Watermelon, a Fish and a Bible by Christy Lefteri
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I'm fighting the urge to write only complimentary things because Lefteri is my tutor lol.

Again, I feel that the reading of this book was slightly impacted by the fact that I was reading it in spurts, mainly while on various trains, and whilst really sleepy. Still, this goes to show that it wasn't particularly exciting to me, because I've powered through books in the middle of the night whilst dead-tired because I really wanted to know what happens next. At any rate, I liked it enough despite the fact that it's historical fiction and not fantasy, so *shrug*. Thinking it over, I'm not too sure if the 4-star is impacted by bias. Now that I'm writing the review, I'm wavering down to about a 3-star, so I'd say it's a tentative 3.5-star book, just because I'm not sure.

The best bits of this book are the beginning and the end. It starts off with this really fairy-tale like sequence, full of symbolism. It's beautiful, and sad, setting you up to journey through war-torn Cyprus in 1974. Lefteri moves you through the capture of Kyrenia through several viewpoints: Maroulla's childish innocence, Adem Berker's loss and guilt, Richard's longing, Commander Serkan Demir's anger and hatred, Koki's fear. Sometimes it's too much--the core of this story feels like Koki's, the way she's caught between Greeks and Turks, an outcast to both groups as much as she is deeply tied to both. I loved the way Adem's, Richard's and Koki's stories weaved in and out of each other, I didn't care so much about Serkan (Lefteri admitted that he was a rather two-dimensional character without an arc) or what his whole confusing interaction with the baby was about, and whilst I loved the thread of the rose and the petals and the innocent fairy tale of Maroulla that both starts and ends the novel, she wasn't ultimately very important to the story. Whilst she acted as a sort-of impetus for Koki to keep moving, keep trying to survive, I kind of feel that she could have been replaced by anything (or anyone) else.

The middle dragged a little as events played out over the five days. There's an immersion in memories of the past, both a sense of longing for what was as well as a lingering regret over how things played out over the years. Ostracism of the Other seems to be a key theme which recurs over and over again, both on a personal and a national level, with the microaggressions of the Greek-Cypriots against Adem and Koki seemingly representative the aggressions of the Greek-Cypriots towards the Turkish-Cypriots and the British in their midst on a national level. In retaliation, the Turkish soldiers rape the women and murder the men on a macro scale of revenge, even though these specific women have done nothing to them personally.

The ending (which I can't say too much of because of spoilers? maybe?) is a beautiful execution of the classic race against time, leaving you braced in your seat with bated breath, hoping that yes, they will meet, yes, things will work out in the end, no, no, please don't miss each other.

Yes, so I was hooked by the beginning, got slightly bored by the middle and then loved the ending, so overall, I'm not very sure how much I actually liked it.

View all my reviews

---

On a final note about global fiction, it feels as if books tagged with the label always seem to be sad stories about refugees and war and displacement, and I'm wondering why.

#fridayflash: Physicality

The first thing Daisy noticed about the house was the draft.

“It’s a little cold in here, isn’t it?” she remarked to the real estate agent as they went up the stairs to look at the bedrooms.

The agent gave her an odd look. “The heating’s on,” he said, going to check the thermostat.

It was, indeed, on.

Daisy stood next to the radiator, feeling the warmth of it, wondering where that odd draft had come from. But it seemed to have disappeared; the house was warm and cosy, everything she had been looking for.

There were two large bedrooms on the upper floor, each with their own attached bathrooms, perfect for when family came to visit or if she decided to take in a lodger. On the ground floor was a cosy living room filled with antique furniture and knick-knacks from the prior owner (a little old lady who’d died the previous year) and an old-fashioned fireplace, a mid-sized kitchen, and a tiny study, should she want to do any ‘serious work’, as the agent put it.

It was perfect, despite the yard being too large (a gardener could be hired, if need be?) and that draft (where was it coming from?). Daisy got the number of the hired man who used to work the yard for the previous owner, but didn’t mention the draft; after all, the real estate agent hadn’t noticed anything. Maybe she was a little too sensitive to the weather.

Daisy paid the down payment on the house and moved in right away.

###

Elizabeth woke up in the living room. Really, she’d taken to falling asleep all over the house lately. She yawned and stretched, then got up to put the kettle on, only to walk into the coffee table. She stood, blinking confusedly at the table for a while, then looked around the room. Someone had moved the furniture while she’d been a sleep. How rude!

The couch she’d been on had been placed at an angle on the left of the fireplace so that she could rest with toasty toes while looking up occasionally to see that her roast wasn’t burning, which was why she’d gotten up and walked straight ahead towards the kitchen. Only, someone had moved the coffee table that was supposed to be by the head of her couch—to put her tea cup on, of course—into the middle of the room, right in front of the fireplace. Really, where was the sense in that?

Elizabeth shook her head, tutted, moved the coffee table back to its original position, and then went to make a cup of tea.

###

The kettle was whistling in the kitchen again, but Daisy was quite sure she hadn’t put it on. It had taken to whistling at odd hours of the day, usually at eleven in the morning, well past when Daisy had her breakfast, and then again at three in the afternoon, when she was busy working in the study.

Sure enough, the kettle was warm, but it was empty. She put it away, locking it in the cupboard for good measure (There! See if those hooligans could get at it now). She was almost at the study door when she realised something looked different. She stood in the doorway, surveying the living room. Someone had moved the coffee table. Well, she was too tired to move it again, so she decided to let it be.

Daisy shivered. That draft was too much. She’d have to find someone to fix it.

###

It wasn’t funny. Why anyone would think that pranking a little old lady was a good idea, Elizabeth couldn’t fathom. How could she have elevenses if the kettle was locked away? She’d gone searching up and down the kitchen for it, but it had been nowhere to be found. Someone had locked this cupboard though—really, this was too much—so it had to be in there.

Elizabeth fretted, wondering who she could call. Maybe that nice young man down the road who did her yard could help. He’d know how to pick the lock, or maybe he’d be able to help her find the key. She had to admit—her eyesight wasn’t what it used to be. She’d lost many a thing in the last year, especially with all her furniture being moved around by pranksters. Resolutely, she marched out of the house, letting the door slam behind her.

###

The slam of the door jolted Daisy from her mid-morning nap. Those hooligans again! The furniture, then the kettle, and now, the door. And that perfectly nice real estate agent hadn’t even warned her that there were hoodlums in this area who enjoyed breaking into people’s houses! Admittedly, they hadn’t stolen anything (she’d checked all her belongings to be sure), but they were very annoying.

Daisy went down and had another look around. Nothing had gone missing, though someone had obviously been rifling through the kitchen cupboards. What did they expect to find in there? Hidden money? She wasn’t one of those little old ladies who kept spare cash in a jar in the kitchen. She’d had enough. It was a Saturday, so the real estate agent was probably not going to pick up her call, but she’d seen a man (the hired man the agent mentioned, she thought) in one of the houses down the road when she was coming back from the store the other day. Maybe he’d know what was going on in this neighbourhood.

###

Alex looked up in alarm at the sight of two ladies beelining towards him, one alive and one very much dead. It was at times like this that he hated his ability to see and speak with the dead. Well, he should have expected it. He’d known Elizabeth’s spirit hadn’t left the house yet, but hadn’t done anything about it or mentioned it the last time he’d worked on her yard.

Now he was going to have to explain to the new occupant that she was sharing the house with a ghost and to Elizabeth that she’d left the physical plane. How fun.

---

Partially because we were supposed to do suspense, with elements of foreshadowing, shifting points of view, withheld information and lines of convergence, if I got that all right.

But also partially because I promised someone on twitter a ghost story.

Heh.

#bookreview: Reading Like a Writer | Francine Prose

Reading Like a Writer: A Guide for People Who Love Books and for Those Who Want to Write Them by Francine Prose
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I picked this up because it was on the supplementary reading list and I was feeling lost about how all these people with literary backgrounds were giving deep opinions on the books we're reading in class and I was just like... it's a book, I liked it or I didn't like it, or it bored me to death. (I don't do very well in verbal discussions. I would just like to send them all my Goodreads reviews lol).

Prose talks about the things she looks out for when reading, which is sometimes helpful, sometimes uh, where did that come from? But on the whole, it's covered a lot of things we've also been doing in class. I do like her end conclusion, though, which does say just read for the sake of enjoying the language, not because you want to dissect the story or argue about your opinion of what the author intended when he said such-and-such. (Will Self also said that in yesterday's lecture: read, read, read, read.)

I do read a lot. But what I need to get better at is close reading. This book gave some pointers on how to start doing that.

View all my reviews