Book Review: Ponti by Sharlene Teo

I'm in Singapore, and I just finished Ponti (2018) by Singaporean-born Sharlene Teo. The title refers to a fictional movie Ponti! and the myth of the Pontianak. A Pontianak is a plain or deformed woman who makes a deal with the devil to become beautiful and irresistible to men, but with a Dracula-like catch: she must drink male blood to survive. (Yennefer of Vengerberg in 2019's The Witcher series is the European version.) Though Teo's book does not revolve around the popular Malaysian fable, viewers unfamiliar with Asian culture's ample room for ghosts will benefit from watching the 2018 movie Kuntilanak (MVP Pictures). 

In the book, I sensed Teo trying to fashion a story around the idea that real horror can be found in broken dreams, broken families, and broken friendships; unfortunately, too much effort is required by the reader to make such leaps. For example, in the beginning and the end, we are introduced to three elderly characters, all of whom are so unbelievable, they function as a tableau for the author's descriptive skills rather than logical plot devices. I am still determining if I was supposed to view the aforementioned characters as war victims or indications the protagonists had no idea how lucky they really were. Due to such gaps, the book underperforms its potential, and we are left with a melacholy novel interrupted by flashes of literary brilliance. 

Despite its shortcomings, Teo's Ponti (2018) is the only fiction book I would recommend to anyone planning to visit Singapore. Using beautifully-written prose, the author accurately captures much of Singaporean life, including hawker centres and even Bata department stores. 

Below are my favorite quotes from the book. 

© Matthew Mehdi Rafat (2020) 

On Singapore's heat: "Singapore lies just one degree north of the equator and it feels like the bullseye where the sun is aiming a shot at the earth with the intention of killing it." 

On gradually losing memories: "His voice is vague. What I have is a paternal approximation, borrowed from daytime soaps. No recordings exist of him. Voices are the first things to go. Next, speech patterns. The turn of a phrase. What was meant as a joke and what was wisdom? You don't get to choose what sticks and what fades."

On dating: "I can picture it. Date night: he'll bring her over some lontong and soya bean milk from the hawker centre near her place and she will beam at him, accept thankfully. And later on they will dim the lights and f*ck full of earnestness to [British operatic pop singer] Adele or something." 

On teenage jealousy: "I cannot imagine them growing old, or any better-looking. There is no limit to this soft sort of envy; it makes a wistful, gawping owl of me. I crane my neck to watch them leave." 

On how relationships decline: "Every evening we talked over each other in circles and absolutes, casting desperate blame spells and generalizations like a blanket over a dying animal. By that point it was you ALWAYS do this and why do you ALWAYS do that. Everything we did together was fraught and boring... I had been trying all my life, and at just 31, I was sick of it." 

On beauty: "Eunice is familiar yet exotic: white enough to fit in, desirably foreign enough to stand out."

On cards: "It sounds like a motivational card. Emptily hopeful."

On teenage activity: "Lying on her tiny bed in half a daydream and dirty clothes was her favourite thing to do."

On grief: "Grief makes ghosts of people. I don't just mean the ones lost, but the leftover people."

On the difficulties of being with a grieving friend: "Yet by the end of that year, being friends with Szu was like carrying around a heavy, sloshing bucket of water. Her grief weighed me down and I couldn't escape its drip."

On lessons to impart to our children: "It's a hot, horrible earth we are stuck on and it's only getting worse. But still. I want to care for you always. May you be safe, may you feel ease. May you have a long, messy life full of love." 

Interesting words: exeunt; leonine; cynosure; epicanthal; pomfret; gormless; auteur; myxomatosis. 

Pico Iyer in Menlo Park, CA

Oxford-born travel writer and Kyoto then Nara, Japan transplant Pico Iyer was at Kepler's Books in Menlo Park, California tonight. 

Two quotes stood out: 1) There are "72 seasons in Japan and religion in Japan is the seasons, a religion without dogma." 2) "California is about possibility, Japan is about reality."

Iyer lit up when discussing his wife, clearly still in love after decades together. (In the book, he describes her voice as "made for singing" on the very first page.) Why did he settle down after so many years single? A seminal moment occurred when Hiroko explained he's impossible, so she just had to adapt to him. This non-Western philosophy of dating--accepting a person "as is" instead of forcing change--softened Iyer, causing him to adapt to his wife in turn. Out of this dance of reciprocity, and despite his limited Japanese and her average English, came relationship success, travels together, and a daughter. (I'm reminded of Pablo Neruda's lines in Love Sonnet 17: "I love you as one loves certain obscure things, secretly, between the shadow and the soul... I love you directly without problems or pride.")

Interestingly, before discussing his relationship with Hiroko, Iyer discussed playing ping pong at a community center, where everyone tries as hard as possible--but not to win. The idea is to challenge each other and oneself, to adapt to each other's styles, and to be joyful. It's difficult not to draw parallels between Iyer's description of dating and a ping pong match between two equals, playing as hard as they can, never wanting the game to end. If you are a fan of travel and/or Japan, you may enjoy one of Pico Iyer's books. I just bought The Lady and the Monk (1991) and hope to read it before his latest work. 

© Matthew Rafat (2019)

Bonus I: many people outside of Japan are confused by the country. Japan is difficult to understand because outside perspectives differ based on whether one is discussing corporate Japan--an unforgiving, monolithic entity--or familial Japan--its patient, considerate side. 

Familial Japan is like this quote from Yoshimoto Mahoko (aka Banana Yoshimoto): "Quality is always more important than quantity. This is true for everything. Even if you write only one line in your life, if it stays in someone’s mind forever, it is satisfactory."

Corporate Japan is the drunk group of men at the local bar, unnecessarily loud and rigidly opposed to substantive changes. (It's true the Toyota Production System (TPS) is renowned worldwide, but its changes typically modify existing processes, and employee promotions seem based on factors other than merit.) 

Bonus II: an interview with Pico Iyer is HERE, but no transcript posted. 

Speaker Review: Rich Karlgaard and Late Bloomers

Rich Karlgaard is a good man. He's the kind of person who gently asks his emcee the time as a way of communicating the book event should have started one minute ago. His wealth of Silicon Valley business contacts provides factoids few others can access. 

At the same time, when you're so close to the C-suite, you can rely on your friends for interesting tidbits, which can result in schizophrenic mini-stories rather than in-depth work. As I get older, I want more depth and less surface-area involvement, even if the surface being examined is shiny and rich. 

When asked which cities he'd prefer to bloom into if he were 40 again, Karlgaard mentioned Silicon Valley (California); Austin, Texas; and Columbus, Ohio. He did not mention a single place outside North America. 

Another case in point: in the context of Palo Alto's intensely competitive and often miserable secondary schools, Karlgaard mentioned Israel, Singapore, and Sweden's mandatory military drafts as ways of exposing their citizens to more than just rote memorization in traditional schools. While that may or may not be true, a better analyst would include the fact that Israel and Singapore are American's only steadfast allies in their respective regions, making them unofficial NATO members. Such members, whether official or unofficial, are expected to contribute 2% of GDP towards military spending. Military conscription activities count towards the 2% goal, and smart politicians allocate as high a percentage as possible within the 2% to domestic development. In contrast, Sweden only made peacetime conscription mandatory in 2017 because it perceived a growing threat from nearby Russia and wanted to sociologically counter hostile anti-immigrant forces from within. Also, Singapore, unlike Sweden and Israel, only conscripts men.  

In any case, that's the kind of detailed analysis I like. You won't find it in Karlgaard's book, which I admittedly skimmed. You will, however, find great stories about VMware's founder and J.K. Rowling and lots of other inspirational late bloomers. To each, his or her own. 

© Matthew Rafat (2019)

Karlgaard getting ready to speak in Campbell, California.

Book Review: Melody Warnick's This is Where You Belong

Melody Warnick's attempt at evaluating what makes some cities "stickier" than others is earnest, but too wordy. 

Though Warnick is probably a lovely person, such qualities don't mean her ideas are interesting enough to warrant an entire book. I'm not sure if she was paid by the word, but I started skimming pages after the following factoid: "liberals want to drive Honda Civic Hybrids. Conservatives want to drive Ford Mustang convertibles." (What do libertarians or socialists prefer, I asked myself in an immediate moment of snark, imagining various possibilities.) 

Warnick's fatal--and unforgivable--mistake is failing to recognize a key detail: college towns (like Blacksburg, VA) are lovely places to live for intellectuals/readers. Instead of placing this unique feature of her eventual hometown front and center, Warnick spends excessive time discussing how cities can attract and keep committed residents, especially younger ones. (Actual quote: "Do What Your Town is Good At.") 

Jane Jacobs and Richard Florida are the mavens in the "city analytics" genre, and I suggest you start with them if interested in this subject matter. 

Bonus: I enjoyed the following blurb about Canada/USA social capital. 

From Alice Schroeder's The Snowball (2008), on Warren Buffett

Warren "Buffett was the one who enjoyed pleasing people... Whereas [Charlie] Munger wanted only respect, and didn't care who thought he was a son of a bitch." -- from Schroeder's The Snowball (2008) (hardcover, pp. 24)

"Life is like a snowball. The important thing is finding wet snow and a really long hill." 

"Spend less than you make" could, in fact, have been the Buffett family motto, if accompanied by its corollary, "Don't go into debt." (39) 

"School for the most part bored him... Warren's teachers found him stubborn, rude, and lazy. Some of the teachers gave him double black Xs, for extra bad." (82)

"Throughout his entire educational history he had shown little interest in formal schooling--as opposed to learning--and considered himself largely self-taught." (125)

"Warren particularly disliked buying houses, considering money spent on them as lying fallow, not earning its keep." (351) 

"Derivatives are like sex... It's not who we're sleeping with, it's who they're sleeping with that's the problem." (659)

"The purpose of life is to be loved by as many people as possible among those you want to have love you." (826) 

Book Review: James and Deborah Fallows' Our Towns (2018)

James Fallows' style is as close to the great James Michener as you can get. Unfortunately, he and his wife seem to have caught the "positivity vibe" at the expense of journalistic integrity. It's not that the couple lie--the Fallows are too sincere, too professional--but their blind spots function as a kind of concealment. 

May 15, 2018 in Palo Alto, CA

For example, Deborah Fallows discusses a Darfur refugee's "apparel" problem: "A big disappointment... was not being allowed to wear her hijab along with her ROTC uniform to school... she would have to choose." Mrs. Fallows then writes, sugary-sweetly, "It was beyond me, from my adult perspective, that this girl's preoccupying problem at sixteen years old was her apparel conflict." [Emphasis mine.] No mention of religious freedom exists anywhere on the page, nor a discussion about why the American government was forcing a Muslim refugee to choose between her religious beliefs and service to her country.

A more serious book would have directed the reader to the fact that military outfits despise exceptions to rules--uniformity is key to controlling actions and ensuring order. Instead, Deb Fallows uses the refugee's story as incontrovertible evidence America is working well. When she discussed the "apparel" issue during a recent interview, her husband, a devoted man whose love renders him incapable of correcting his wife's blind spots, saw the problem and immediately tried to save her by mentioning the local ROTC's request for a rule modification, which was eventually granted. 

Throughout the book, I sensed Mr. Fallows gently trying to mitigate Mrs. Fallows' unbridled optimism in a uniquely WASPy way. Discussing Sioux Falls, South Dakota's current economy, Mr. Fallows describes the city's choice of institutions a long time ago: "Would it prefer to be the home of the state university? Or the state penitentiary? ... the penitentiary offered steadier work for locals, so that is what they took." Readers knowledgable about America's worldwide #1 incarceration rate--a massive, unresolved issue that sheds light on untrammeled police discretion in making arrests--can understand the background in context. My concern is many readers might be unfamiliar with Mr. Fallows' genial, non-confrontational style--he was President Carter's speechwriter, after all--and miss the understated intellectualism behind his words. 

The Fallows are best when they stick to hard facts, such as their time operating a small aircraft; their research into ingenious ideas to melt snow (divert hot water from the cooling system of the local electric plant through plastic pipes under city streets and sidewalks); or historical color ("The Democratic-dominated city council tried to thwart every appointment, proposal, and piece of legislation [Bernie] Sanders put forward [after he won as an independent candidate by 10 votes]"). As it stands, if you read the Fallows' hefty book, just be aware of its selection bias. If you visit a city that knows you're coming and that has actively advertised itself to you, you'll get some version of a sanitized tour. (In one place, as soon as the Fallows land, they are greeted by "Captain Bob Peacock, one of many outsized personalities in the town.") 

For her part, Ms. Fallows says in an interview, "If you want to know what's wrong or what's needed [in a city], ask the librarian." Yet, one imagines visiting any country's libraries would result in optimism, even in North Korea. Perhaps that's the point the Fallows are trying to make: in any country, despite its overall decline, you will find pockets of hope and optimism, and your job is to find those places. 

I'll leave you with one of my favorite sentences, as an American immigrant hoping to live outside the United States one day: "Every city that is trendy or successful in some way attracts people from someplace else," which reveals America's economic engine as based on internal and external immigration. 

Christopher Moore at Kepler's Books in Menlo Park, CA

Christopher Moore can be described in one word: wacky. He's like Dave Barry, if Barry had no inhibitions. 

Moore was at Kepler's Books promoting his new novel, Noir (2018). Before signing books, he gave a "commencement speech," hat and all, with several points of advice: "Face your fears... unless it's fire." And "You'll probably get VD [venereal disease] but not at the zoo. Probably." 

It's unclear if Moore, who studied anthropology at Ohio State, graduated from any college. The Q&A session revealed other interesting tidbits. Moore's grandfather, a military veteran, loved to read. When out at sea, servicemen had lots of free time, and sometimes, his grandfather would read "a book a day." His love of reading passed down to his son, who became a police officer. Moore would observe his father reading at home and he, too, "read a lot." Moore's influences include Kurt Vonnegut, Tom Robbins, and Carl Hiassen (like Dave Barry, also a Miami Herald columnist).

What was he like as a teenager? "A smart*ss. No one likes a smart*ss and now I get paid to be one." 

Will his novels ever be made into movies? Moore explained "getting optioned means nothing." In other words, just because someone or a company buys a book's movie rights doesn't mean a movie will get made. More likely, the option to make a film will be passed on or shopped around in perpetuity. 

My favorite Moore book is Bloodsucking Fiends (1995) and I was disappointed in the sequel, You Suck (2007), which felt forced. As Moore became more popular, he sought inspiration by leaving the inner workings of his own mind and using details learned while traveling. I prefer Moore's unhinged comedy more than his reality-fantasy hybrid (e.g., he traveled to the Dead Sea to research a book about Christ's fictional childhood friend), but fans implored me to give Lamb (2002) a chance. I haven't read Noir (2018) yet, but it looks complex, and I'll probably write down all the different characters' names to keep them straight. 

When it came time to sign my book, I asked him to sign it to "Bloodsucking Fiends." Moore, perhaps unaccustomed to someone wackier than himself, questioned why I wanted him to sign it that way, but eventually acquiesced, adding a quizzical "Okay!" He gave fans mini alien figures with his signature imprinted on the aliens' foreheads. Moore's wackiness is unparalleled but I wish he'd recapture the effortless humor he had when writing about his true interest: horror.