Author: Fong Min Hun

Who: You-Jeong Jeong initially trained as a nurse but is now South Korea’s leading writer of psychological thrillers and crime fiction. She is the award-winning author of four novels including Seven Years of Darkness, which was named one of the top ten crime novels of 2015 by German newspaper Die Zeit. Her work has been translated into seven languages. The Good Son, a No. 1 bestseller in Korea, is the first of her books to appear in English. The novel is translated by award-winning translator Chi-Young Kim.

What: Having suffered from seizures since he was a child, 26-year-old Yu-jin often has trouble with his memory. He wakes early one morning in such a state, having no recollection of what happened and why he is covered in blood. He soon discovers his mother’s murdered body lying in a pool of blood at the bottom of the stairs of their stylish Seoul duplex. Over the next few days, fragments from his memory of the night start surfacing in his head, eventually forming a clear picture of what happened and the truth about Yu-jin, his family and the extent to which a mother will go to protect herself and her son.

Why: I enjoyed the way this story unfolded, the unhurried pace of the storytelling. It is told from Yu-jin’s perspective, and because it begins with him suffering temporary amnesia, the search for the truth feels raw, authentic and heart-thumpingly urgent.

Throughout the book, the narrative switches from the present to the past to unpack Yu-jin’s complicated past. There’s his once-promising prospects in competitive swimming derailed by a propensity for seizures, being prescribed drugs that dull his body and mind, and crucially, the tragic incident that claimed the lives of his older brother and father, as well as the way his adoptive brother, Hae-jin, comes into the picture.

Slowly, like mist dispersing over a landscape, the truth is revealed, but not without much second-guessing on my part due to the red herrings the author deploys. It’s a deft psychological thriller that toys with you and shocks you to your core.

Verdict: Tense, gripping, and chilling, this is one deliciously twisted tale. (8/10)

Availability: Trade paperback, RM75.50

Special thanks to Pansing Distribution for an advance reading copy of the book.

Say hello to a new contributor for the Lit Review column, Sarah Loh. Her first review is a children’s book.

Who: Born in Lancashire, Sarah Todd Tayl0r was brought up in Yorkshire and moved to Wales when she was 8 years old. She studied history at university and remained in higher education as a researcher and then as a strategic planner. She has had short stories published in several anthologies. Her sophomore effort after her debut children’s book Arthur and Me is Max the Detective Cat: The Disappearing Diva.

What: Maximilian, a fluffy white cat accustomed to the finer things in life, suddenly finds himself out on the streets one night after one bad mouse chase. Scruffy and inevitably lost, he meets Oscar, a street-smart cat who helps him sneak into the Theatre Royal for shelter. It is here that Max finds a new family and officially becomes the theatre’s chief mouse-hunter. The adventure truly begins when Max senses something amiss with the theatre’s latest member — the famous singer Madame Emerald. There is something really fishy (and not the good kind) going on with Madame Emerald and it is up to Max to find out why before something terrible happens.

Why: This is one of those books written for children but can also be enjoyed by adults. The plot may be simple and straightforward (and a little clichéd but then again, I am reading it as an adult), but the build-up of the story is engaging and well-written. The storytelling isn’t flimsy and in fact, the scenes are so descriptive that the beautiful illustrations by Nicola Kinnear became secondary as I could already visualise the story based on the words alone.

What I like most about the book are the themes explored in the story ¾ the true meaning of family/love, the idea of freedom and the courage to step out of your comfort zone. There are also heavier themes slightly hinted at in the story, particularly regarding the origins of Maximilian and how he ended up the Theatre Royal. I also like the cat-racter development of the lovable Max as it is a delight to see him learning to be more cat-like. This book is honestly a joy to read and I am keen to see what’s next for Max in this series.

Best/Worst Line: “Maximilian was a cat of many miaows, but he had no miaow for this occasion.”

Verdict: The protagonist is a cat; what’s not to like? (10/10)

Reading Level: Aged 8 and up

Availability: Paperback, RM41.90

Thanks to Pansing Distribution for an advance reading copy of this book.

Words by guest contributor Poon Jin Feng

Who: In contrast to the sunny image of her birthplace of South Florida, amid a colourful life characterised by reading, baking, and dragging a ‘lazy’ dog out on walks, Laura Sebastian’s literary debut is rather grim. Ash Princess is the first of a YA fantasy trilogy, but by no means is it Sebastian’s first attempt at storytelling. That dates back to the second grade, when she put together a Cinderella retelling about angels. Since then, she’s completed a BA from Savannah College of Art and Design, moved to New York City, and produced this page-turning gem, with two books to follow.

What: Theodosia, heir to the kingdom of Artemisia, is just a child when she witnesses the murder of her mother and is taken prisoner by the right-hand man of the Kaiser, head of the invading Kalovaxians. Kept a hostage as a symbol of the Kaiser’s power, she is forced to wear crowns of ashes, a mockery of her former royal status, and the merest rumour of dissent by the conquered Artemisians earns her a brutal whipping.

Respite from the cruelties bestowed upon her come in the form of Crescentia, daughter of the very man who killed her mother and her closest — indeed, only — friend in the castle. So close is this unlikely friendship that Theo — the Kaiser denies her the right to her original name and orders she to refer to herself as Thora or Theo among select company — looks at her almost as a sister.

Word of growing underground rebellion reaches the court and a bedraggled man one day is dragged before the Kaiser, leader of the rebellion and a figure Theo recognises from her childhood. She is commanded to prove her loyalty to the Kaiser in a despicable manner, an order that will change the course of her life as she discovers an inner fire she never knew. Aided and abetted by an old friend and his gang of young rebels, she begins fighting back, a move that tests loyalties between friends old and new.

Why: Let’s be honest, there is little that is wholly original about Ash Princess if you’ve spent a decent amount of time in the YA world. There is even a painfully trite love triangle, though mercifully little time is dedicated to this trope. That said, after an info-heavy first chapter that dispensed all necessary information, the remaining chapters went by relatively fast.

Violence does feature rather frequently in the early parts of the book, and it is easy to sympathise with Theo — the hand she’s dealt with is a rather sorry one, and she does the necessary to survive. In other words, the book opens with her drawn as a pliant, timid prisoner, eternally grateful for the small mercies thrown her way by Cress.

Their relationship is core to the strength and theme of this story, examining the complex bonds that bind the self-declared sisters. Cress’ position of privilege is a stark contrast to the manner Theo is kept in, and while she appears to love the fallen princess, it seems to be a relationship built on conditions. When Theo begins to push back against the Kaiser, and when Cress’ love interest appears to be smitten by Theo, Cress’ true feelings towards her friend surface. Theo in the meantime finds herself questioning their relationship and battling with the contradictory answers. What really is loyalty? Is it born out of gratitude or a shared cause, as is the growing alliance between Theo and the Artemisian rebels? Or is it something else altogether, the glue of friendship kindled from unconditional help and comradeship?

The storytelling can be a tad clunky at times and character development of the secondary characters is somewhat lacking, but the latter might have been done at the expense of growing Theo as a believable central figure. There is a sprinkling of elemental magic, thanks to the gemstones mined by the Artemisians but which the Kalovaxians have no power to use and so wear them as ornaments instead, a further insult to the proud Artemisians. I would hope to see greater use of magic in the second and third book, as it is woefully underutilised and seems to be almost incidental here. All in all though, I would give this debut a thumb’s up.

Verdict: Between the violence and humiliation, a dash of fantasy, the bonds of friendship and a strong female protagonist, this is a rather compelling read and a great introduction into the YA world for newcomers of not-too-delicate sensibilities. (7.5/10)

Availability: Paperback, RM46.90. (Eligible to purchase as part of the Get 3 YA novels for RM99 deal.)

Special thanks to Pansing Distribution for an ARC of the book. 

Who: Ahmed Saadawi is an Iraqi novelist, poet, screenwriter and documentary filmmaker. Frankenstein in Baghdad is his third novel. It won the International Prize for Arabic Fiction in 2014 and is shortlisted for the Man Booker International Prize 2018.

What: Frankenstein in Baghdad is set in war-ravaged Baghdad. Stitched together from the body parts of bombing victims, the Frankenstein is animated by the spirit of vengeance and wreaks havoc in a city that does not discriminate between the guilty and the innocent. Meanwhile, city authorities struggle to maintain some semblance of order in an increasingly anarchic state while rapacious opportunists take advantage of the chaos to increase their personal wealth and forward their own political ambitions.

Why: It is always refreshing to encounter a novel that does what it claims to do, namely, be novel. War novels are particularly guilty of failing to introduce new ideas resorting to tried and true set pieces: love in a time of war, redemption, the brotherhood and fraternity of soldiering, innocence in a time of war — it’s all pretty much been done. This is not to say that they aren’t excellent reads, but simply that there hasn’t been anything novel of late. Not really.

Enter Frankenstein in Baghdad: set in US-occupied Central Baghdad, the story is told through the lens of several protagonists. Further uniting this cast of characters is the mysterious Frankenstein of Baghdad — a creation of Hadi the junk dealer who creates the golem from the body parts of bombing victims, ostensibly to ensure that the bombing victims receive a proper burial as a whole corpse rather than discarded as bits of detritus.

The creation, named Whatsisname by his father, is animated by the spirit of vengeance and seeks to bring justice to those responsible for killing the former owners of his body parts. In doing so, the Whatsisname builds a cult status of his own, gathering a troop of disenfranchised and downtrodden to do his bidding, including locating spare replacement body parts.

Meanwhile, the ambitious but naive journalist Mahmoud has found in the monster the makings of a story that will propel him towards fame and, hopefully, the bed linens of one Nawal al-Wazir. Nawal, unfortunately, is the girl Friday of his boss, Ali Baher al-Saidi, whose appetite for power is matched only by that of Brigadier Sorour Mohamed Majid, the head of the enigmatic Tracking and Pursuit Department. Both men intend to make the most of opportunities presented by the war to increase their influence over a reeling city that will nevertheless return to some semblance of order at some point.

All the while the widow Elishva, also known as Umm Daniel or Daniel’s mother, maintains her vigil for her lost son who disappeared during the Iran-Iraq conflict some two decades earlier. A fervent Christian, she cajoles and negotiates with the portrait of St George on her wall to fulfil his promise and return to her her beloved son. And it is a case of prayers answered when she comes across the assembled corpse at Hadi’s house next to hers.

Frankenstein in Baghdad is at once an absurdist comedy, an experiment in magical realism and a moralistic fable about the inanity of war. Surreal without the dizzying imagery that accompanies like-novels and darkly satirical without becoming punch-drunk, the story benefits from Jonathan Wright’s direct and lean translation and Saadawi’s wry sense of humour. But there should be no mistake — Saadawi makes a strong editorial comment about the war in the book: That it is senseless, vicious and ultimately absurd.

Indeed, the inclusion of Mary Shelley’s creation only serves to make taut the tension between the real and unreal in the reader’s mind. Was there truly a golem going about Baghdad? Or is it the fevered imaginings of a teller of tall tales, the made up enemy of a militant state seeking to establish an enemy — no matter how fantastic — to marshal popular support for itself?

What is plenty real, however, is that war is hell. War is protean, paradoxical and meaningless, and Whatsisname embodies these paradoxes: His goal is to obtain justice, but justice can only be obtained by performing an injustice, which in turn requires justice, and so on. Inevitably, the conviction that justice was being served becomes increasingly cloudy: “I held firm to the idea that I had only hastened the old man’s death. I was not a murderer: I had merely plucked the fruit of death before it fell to the ground.”

It is that sort of reckoning against one’s sense of self that forms the meat of the book not just for the monster but for all the residents caught within the conflict’s vortex.

Verdict: Despite there being a Frankenstein monster, the lack of a central focal point, which may very well be the point of the whole story, is a bit distracting. (7/10)

Availability: Paperback, RM69.90

Written by Poon Jin Feng, Lit Review contributor

Who: Leonard Mlodinow is a theoretical physicist and author of several New York Times best-sellers, including The Drunkard’s Walk: How Randomness Rules Our Lives, Subliminal: How Your Unconscious Mind Rules Your Behaviour, The Grand Design co-authored with Stephen Hawking, and War of the Worldviews, co-authored with Deepak Chopra. But lest you think the man is a humourless science bot with nothing but quantum research and multiple award-winning books to his name, he was also a writer on TV series Star Trek: The Next Generation and McGyver – whatever that might be worth. Elastic: Flexible Thinking in a Time of Change is his latest book.

What: Elastic captures in a single-world title Mlodinow’s belief that success in a time of overwhelming output lies in a flexible cognitive style. The sheer volume of information and speed at which things change today is exponentially higher than in decades past and the dizzying pace at which all this takes place necessitates cognitive mechanisms that are not just effective, but efficient.

There are compelling examples to illustrate this point. Between 2004 and 2014, over 5,000 new scientific journals were created to accommodate an estimated three million journal articles a year. The number of websites in existence doubles every two to three years. Social behaviours are constantly being challenged and reshaped with the global reach of the Internet pushing communities both online and offline to consider new ideas and adjust accordingly.

Elastic thinking, hence, refers to the ability to face and produce ideas intelligently, epitomising the phrase “work smarter, not harder”. It propagates imaginative, original and non-linear thinking as well as play with new paradigms. In short, it’s the source of invention and innovation, allowing for a break-away from convention to dabble with possibilities, however far-fetched.

Why: Faced with a tsunami of information to sift through daily and with disruption a key theme in new ideas and platforms – requiring constant adaption and “unlearning” – mental agility becomes a necessity. The good news is that Mlodinow believes such nimbleness can be trained, if not an inherent trait; we can become smarter consumers and creative generators. Elastic thinking increases the “capacity to let go of comfortable ideas and become accustomed to ambiguity and contradiction”.

Mlodinow’s ideas in themselves are not original. He doesn’t dismiss analytical thinking – seen as the antithesis to elastic thinking with its formulaic or logical processes – but encourages greater attention to the latter with applications incorporating the former. What he does do well is pair the latest findings in neuroscience and psychology to explain the whys and hows of elastic thinking, all presented in a conversational, comprehensible manner. The book is approachable, tackling what could be an intimidating or foreign (for the first-timer) subject with informal ease. Four sections cover confronting change, how we think, where new ideas come from, and liberating your brain. Within these sections, each chapter opens with an anecdote and relates the scenario to a bigger behaviour or practice at play. Anyone with sufficient attention span could get through Elastic easily enough and grasp the concepts. At its worst, this serves as an up-to-date compilation of theories, findings and applications. At its best, it’s a relatively quick manual on how to reframe the way we think to not just survive, but thrive.

Verdict: Does a solid job of providing a glimpse into the fascinating subject that is the flexibility of the human mind and how it has helped man flourish across centuries and around the world. (7.5/10)

Availability: Trade paperback, RM86.90

Special thanks to Times Distribution for an ARC of the book. 

Ready Player One (RP1) is a flawed novel. Among its blemishes is its narrow focus in that it was written for readers to get “it” — the “it” being the cultural artifacts of the 80s. It appealed to those who remember Pac Man, Popeye and Donkey Kong arcade cabinets, Galaga-type shooters, Ghostbusters, Ferris Bueller and A-Ha!, and those who thought that Molly Ringwald was going to be the best actress in the world forever. The Delorean DMC-12 was the coolest car in the world, followed by Kit from Knight Rider; Dungeons and Dragons was so seriously real that religious leaders and concerned relatives felt a need to confiscate your d20s and 12s as well as your Player’s Handbook and Dungeon Master’s Guide.

If you got those references, you should have felt a quick shot of dopamine course through your body — such is the power of nostalgia. The book, though boasting a quest at its heart, wizards, puzzles and a bad guy, is a matrix of arguably empty nostalgia that nevertheless sends a jolt of pleasure every now and then to the reader in the know. The characters of the book, similarly, had little about them except for their own obsession with the 80s. Perhaps the only detail well-fleshed out in the book, albeit briefly and in flashes, is the sorry state of the planet.

A quick rehash of the overall story:

21st-century earth is a shithole. The only escape is The Oasis, a virtual wonderland created by eccentric genius James Halliday. The Oasis, a reprieve from reality, enjoys mass success and becomes a surrogate for reality. Schools and lessons are held in the virtual world, and it’s also the platform for most business and commercial transactions. Corporations make a mint selling hardware and advertising space to Oasis users, and could probably be making a lot more if not for the restrictions imposed by Halliday.

Commercial restrictions aside, Halliday has also designed The Oasis as a homage to the 1980s due to his lifelong obsession with the decade. Following his death, Halliday announces a quest, the winner of which will be the beneficiary of half a trillion dollars and become the sole owner of Oasis. This sparks a massive hunt by individuals and corporations alike for the quest’s prize — an Easter Egg hidden somewhere within the VR world. These Egg Hunters, or Gunters, need to overcome three puzzles to retrieve the Egg.

Wade Watts is one such Gunter. He solves the first quest — the first to do so in the years since the quest was first announced — and becomes the hottest asset in The Oasis. This puts him in the cross-hairs of other Gunters as well as IOI Corporation, a nefarious company seeking to gain ownership of The Oasis for commercial exploitation. To ensure the Oasis is safe from IOI, Wade, together with his loose coalition of friends, must solve the puzzles and find the Egg before IOI does.

What the Movie Does Well

As with most movie adaptations, the movie is a fraction of the length of the book but manages to address a critical flaw in the book, namely, the flatness of the characters. Character definition was poorly executed in the book leaving readers with a fairly forgettable description of the main characters save that they were all obsessed with the 80s, two of them were good and one of them was evil. The movie, by giving the protagonist’s love interest Art3mis a greater sense of purpose, gives her greater depth as a person and not just an online persona as represented in the book. Wade, unfortunately, remains as uninteresting as he was in the book.

The movie also rejigs the quests the Gunters have to solve from the book. No doubt the quests in the movie — a Mario Kart-ish race, and a set-piece based on Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining — were chosen because it made for better visuals than the book’s. The latter involved mainly arcade cabinets and old text adventure games. The cinematography and planning for The Shining stand out in particular, even if zombies were added to it. In hindsight, the quest revisions in the movie helped sweep away a lot of unnecessary geek humour littering the book. For example, the first quest in the book involved playing Joust with an undead lich.

The final battle was certainly fun even if it did revert to the RP1‘s formula of invoking nostalgic artefacts, but this time from the not so distant past. Keep an eye out for the following characters in the Battle of Anorak:

• Master Chief, Halo
• Tracer, Overwatch
• Robocop (in the original silver)
• Lara Croft, Tomb Raider

There’s a lot more. There’s even a shout-out to Cameron Crowe’s Say Anything in the final battle. But see what I did there? Just as the movie does, I’m establishing my pop culture cred by being able to pick out all these references and cultural artefacts and thereby raising my esteem amongst my peer groups (one hopes). It’s pretty much what Rob Gordon in Nick Hornby’s High Fidelity says: “What really matters is what you like, not what you are like.”

What the Movie Doesn’t Do So Well

Casting. Tye Sutherland (who looks like a cross between Tom Hardy and Ashton Kutcher) was not a good choice for Wade Watts and was comprehensively outdone by his Oasis avatar in almost every way. I was unpersuaded by his motivations in the movie and his character is too shell-shocked and overwhelmed to lead an army in the final battle. It’s also inconceivable that Art3mis played by Olivia Cooke would develop any romantic feelings for him. Wade is at worst a selfish brat and at best a juvenile naif.

The Big Picture. In the William Gibson Neuromancer universe, the price humanity pays for virtual-fication of reality is clearly spelled out. The trade off is much less clear in RP1 where The Oasis exists as a gaming wonderland. Yet clearly a price has to be paid because one of the “improvements” introduced by Wade and Art3mis in the movie is regular shutdowns for the virtual world so people would switch-off to engage in the real world. This didactic point is raised throughout the movie as well, although it never really offers a good reason why the real world is better. It’s fundamentally a philosophical question but perhaps a good thing that the hoary chestnut was left undeveloped.

Empty nostalgia. This is more of a pet peeve than legitimate criticism of the movie but I’ve always wondered if nostalgia is a legitimate literary device. Must we distinguish between empty nostalgia and ostensibly the kind that’s more full and meaningful? And is it fair to expect the latter from a movie as, after all, nostalgia is a subjective function? So while on the one hand, I enjoyed (on some primitive level) recognising certain references, there is also another part of me that feels a bit tawdry because of the cheap thrill.

Verdict

My first impression after watching the movie was that the book was better. But now that I’ve revisited the book again, I am reminded of the flaws that made this book really slow going. After all that’s said and done, it’s a Spielberg movie and those seldom venture into the unwatchable terrain. It’s also got some great CGI and effects. The book, meanwhile, retains some charm although it will appeal more to those who grew up in the 80s.

So 80s nerds and geeks: Read the book and watch the movie. Everyone else should probably just stick with the movie.

Introducing a new guest contributor for Lit Review, Hannah Azlan. 

Who: Japanese novelist Hideo Yokoyama specialises in mystery novels but has said that the crime is the least interesting part of his stories; instead, he likes to focus on the psychology and social dynamics of characters affected by the crime. His 15th novel, Six Four, was the first to be translated into English. Seventeen is the second novel of his translated into English.

What: The year is 1985, and Kazumasa Yuuki, a seasoned reporter at the North Kanto Times, is running a daily gauntlet against the power struggles and office politics that plague its newsroom. But when an air disaster of unprecedented scale occurs on the paper’s doorstep, its staff are united by an unimaginable horror, and a once-in-a-lifetime scoop.

Fast forward to 2003, 17 years later — Yuuki remembers the adrenaline-fuelled, emotionally charged seven days that changed his and his colleagues’ lives. He does so while making good on a promise he made that fateful week — one that holds the key to its last unsolved mystery, and represents Yuuki’s final, unconquered fear.

Why: This languidly paced novel focuses more on newspaper politics and is less investigative thriller than the blurb suggest. It examines the impact investigating an air crash has on a group of reporters and editors than the crash itself. Yuuki as a character makes for an interesting study, and the novel opens with him about to tackle a mountain climb. There’s something very Japanese about the way the present story of a climb up a difficult mountain face is juxtaposed against the main event of the air crash, which happened 17 years ago. The translation, however, feels distanced and somewhat opaque, and it feels like we’re experiencing the story from few steps back rather than directly. I found myself skimming in parts but there is a metaphysical mystique that does keep one reading.

Verdict: A dense read to be sure, but one that deftly explores the psychological aspects of its characters. (5.5/10)

Availability: Trade paperback, RM79.90

Special thanks to Times Distribution for an ARC of the book. 

Hey folks! Nothing gives Elaine and me greater pleasure when we meet kids excited about reading and so when this young man, Ng Zan Lim, aged 10 and a bit, said he wanted to write a review for us, we were quite over the moon! Zan Lim recently read Lissa Evans’ superb book, ‘Wed Wabbit’ which is beloved by Elaine as well. The following is his review of the story, which provides a good overall summary and why he thinks his fellow peers should read the book. 

Spoiler Alert!

I would like to write a review about a book called Wed Wabbit. It is the cover that attracted me into reading this awesome book. The story is about Fidge and her cousin Graham in Wimbley Land trying to go home while finding Minnie’s toys which are a carrot, an elephant, a phone and Wed Wabbit (Minnie’s favourite toy).

In Wimbley land, there are different colours of Wimbley Woos. There are blue, green, yellow, pink, purple and grey Wimbley Woos. Blue are strong, green are daring, yellow are timid, purple understands the past and the future of Wimbley Land, pink give cuddles and grey are wise and rarely wrong. It is an interesting, funny and adventurous book because Fidge and Graham have to understand some mysterious poems and riddles from the purple and grey Wimbley Woos while they go on difficult obstacles along the way.

If I were to rate this book from a scale of one to ten, I would choose eight because it is the best book I have ever read in a very long time. I would recommend it for children aged 10 or above. I wish Lissa Evans could make Wed Wabbit 2. I would suggest more characters inside the story and more poems and riddles for everyone to solve. I would also suggest 7 more colours and one or more city for the Wimbley Woos.

Thank you for reading this book review until the end. 🙂