THE STAR REVIEWS 44 CEMETERY ROAD

My book 44 Cemetery Road was reviewed today in The Star by a Michael Cheang.

The verdict was generally good proclaiming that the stories are “pretty well written”, are “fascinating”, “intriguing” and my “style matured” with each new book and that the collection’s greatest asset is the “nostalgia it evokes”. I would like to thank him for his positive comments.

It is thus with some reluctance that I take him to task on the negative side of the balance sheet. Our Mr Cheang has stuck his neck out and claimed that I use “very similar plot devices” and that some of the earlier stories are “predictable”.

This is a serious allegation indeed against any writer and I wish to state my case. Here it is and right to the point: the stories are NOT predictable, nor are they similar in terms of plotting.

If our reviewer thinks otherwise, he should have elaborated, pointing out the offending stories and also to explain why. Such a flippant comment can easily be thrown in, particularly by a reviewer who regards horror stories as often “cheesy”. Yet it is extremely difficult to justify unless we do a test. After reading say 25% of the story, Mr Cheang should then tell us what exactly is going to happen. I doubt he can.

This also leads me to the question of predictability or, its opposite, the unexpected ending. I believe it is the journey rather than the destination that matters. If you watch any Hollywood movie you more or less know the good guys are going to win. Yes, predictable. But how? The journey that gets them there is what counts. That’s what you enjoy. It’s the detail of the story, the suspense, the action, even if you know the outcome, is what makes for good entertainment. So predictability should not be an issue. Having said that, my stories are not predictable.

For an odd reason I cannot fathom, other than the reviewers clearly stated prejudice against ghost or horror stories, Mr Cheang felt let down by the title story “44 Cemetery Road”. Yes, it is a vampire story and this in itself tends to constrain the plot. You can just bet someone is definitely going to get bitten! This in itself does not make a story predictable. But as I said, it’s good for us to remember, whether on holiday or when reading, it’s the journey not the destination.

With that particular story, the reviewer sees problems in the writing – “Elaborate descriptions, overdone superlatives and textbook-style plotting abound” he pontificates. Again, I would like the reviewer to please explain. Which paragraph is he referring to? Where are the “overdone superlatives”? And what does he mean by “textbook-style” plotting? Again, comments are thrown in with no examples, no justification.

As a writer, I am willing to accept negative comments but these need to better thought out and justified rather than just chucked in because it sounds as if the reviewer knows something the general public doesn’t. Perhaps the reviewer had a tight date line and had to type a certain number of words before venturing out to the hawker stall, but this is no excuse.

Overall, Michael Cheang (if that’s his real name) was promulgating a rather negative view on the particular genre I sometimes choose to write in rather than on my book 44 Cemetery Road. It may have tarnished his sense of balance and fair play.

Here’s the review:

(By the way, I’ll be away from the computer for a few days so I might not be able to comment on your comment!)

Alamak, goosebumps!

Review by MICHAEL CHEANG.

44 CEMETERY ROAD:

THE BEST OF TUNKU HALIM

By Tunku Halim

Distributor: MPH, 334 pages

(ISBN: 978-983-369-8271)

A frightening sense of dread came upon me as I held the book in my hands. Maybe it was the cover illustration of a tombstone. Maybe it was the innocuously foreboding title: 44 Cemetery Road: which reminded me of death at every syllable. Or maybe it was just my fear of cheesy Malaysian ghost stories acting up again….

AH, ghost stories. We Malaysians just love them, don’t we? From the stealthy toyol, the vengeful pontianak and the powerful bomoh to the mass graves of Japanese soldiers, black magic, haunted basement car parks and cemeteries, Malaysian folklore is full of such wonderfully colourful and sometimes cheesy stories. So it seems a tragedy that no one has been able to export these stories to a wider audience internationally.

Enter Tunku Halim, who is arguably one of Malaysia’s most prolific writers in English. Over the years, he has released three collections of short horror fiction – The Rape of Martha Teoh and Other Chilling Stories; Bloodhaze: 15 Chilling Tales; and The Woman Who Grew Horns and Other Works. In conjunction with the 10th anniversary of the release of the first collection, he has compiled the 18 of the best stories from the three books into one nice little volume entitled

44 Cemetery Road, and has even thrown in three new stories into the mix.

The titles of the tales told stories of their own – stories of scary vampires, big bad bomohs, lurking shadows and er? monkeys. Memories of dark nights spent hiding under blankets in spooky dormitories, listening to ghost stories being told returned to haunt me?.

To tell the truth, I have never been a huge fan of ghost stories, or horror novels, for the simple reason that I’m a bit of a chicken when it comes to ghosts and things that go bump in the night. But to Tunku Halim’s credit, the stories here were fascinating enough to keep my attention, thanks to the familiar nature of many of the myths and legends.

The money-stealing toyol has always been a favourite of mine, and I was happy to read about it in Watching The Doll. Other memorable tales are the creepy Birthdays are Deathdays (the twist in the end was a little unnerving for me) and the gruesome Paradise Revisited (let’s just say you’ll never look at red meat the same way again) and the very spooky The Rape of Martha Teoh.

Tunku Halim has also written three new stories for this collection – 44 Cemetery Road (a good old-fashioned zombie/vampire/ghost romp), Plane Load (a moral lesson of sorts about not accepting pills from strangers), and The Year 1972 (which is actually an autobiographical story set in a location he remembers from his childhood days).

I enjoyed The Year 1972, mostly because of the sense of nostalgia it evoked, but I was disappointed by 44 Cemetery Road. Perhaps because it gives the book its title, I was expecting something a little more than the rather conventional and stereotypical vampire story it turned out to be.

As I turned the pages, the words leaped out at me like a vengeful spirit. Elaborate descriptions, overdone superlatives and textbook-style plotting abound, and it was too much for me to bear?.

Fortunately, most of the other stories were much more intriguing, and Tunku Halim seems to have a knack of putting new spins on old myths, especially in the later stories.

Nevertheless, while the stories here are pretty well-written, many of them tend to use very similar plot devices that may give the reader a sense of déjà vu. That said, it may be advisable not to read all the stories at one go.

Fortunately, his style matured with each book he released, and by the time you reach the stories in The Woman Who Grew Horns, his writing has settled into a less predictable style.

Ultimately, the nostalgia it evokes is the book’s greatest asset, coupled with the fact that many of the stories, characters, settings and locations are so quintessentially Malaysian that the reader can’t help but be fascinated by them.

I’M GOING TO MARRY YOUR BOOKS!

An article of mine recently appeared in Quill magazine (Apr-Jun 07) under the “He Says, She Says” section. Dina Zaman gave the female viewpoint whilst I gave the male’s. I thought I might share it with you.
The question essentially was: “If you’ve received a marriage proposal and are unsure, simply take a look at what your possible future spouse reads before you decide. Do you agree.” Here’s my response:

Believe me, I would have second thoughts if I found my fiancee reading How to Poison Your Husband for Dummies. Now if I found her flipping through A Nutshell’s Guide to A Sexless Marriage, then I would really flee.

There are so many books out there, from all kinds of pedestrian subjects to weird and wonderful topics that it’s impossible to guess what my beloved is reading: Real Estate, Managing Better, Computers, Travel Guides, Cookery, Handbags, Beauty, Pilates, Feng Shui, Witchcraft…

My cousin’s fiancee had read Think and Grow Rich 12 times. So my cousin concluded his fiancee had an unhealthy obsession with wealth. But the real issue was that she only read non-fiction. As he adored fiction , this caused a huge argument and thus they broke up.
So if you’re about to get married, find out what your beloved is reading. It will give you an insight into her interests, her inner character even.

I know this can be difficult. You can’t exactly rummage through her oversized handbag or check the drawers of her bedside table. My advise is to let her loose in MPH then secretly follow her. See where she gravitates to. If you find her picking up How to Poison Your Husband for Dummies or A Nutshell’s Guide to A Sexless Marriage then, believe me, it’s time to run a mile.

Stalking my fiancee, I find that she has ambled towards the Fiction section. She’s spending a lot of time at the Crime shelf. Perhaps she’s hooked on serial killers. I’m going to have to sleep with one eye open. My wife might wield a dagger on our wedding night!

Obsession with other genres pose their own dangers though. If she only reads Romance, would I be able to live up to my darling’s expectations? I couldn’t possibly present her with bouquets of roses whilst reciting romantic sonnets on a daily basis. And if she was hooked on Fantasy, I would be terribly lonely knowing my beloved was inhabiting a magic world of dragons and warlocks without me. As for an obsession with Horror, I shudder at the dreadful possibilities…

A lady we know takes great pride in her library declaring how well read she is. She has, in fact, a grand collection of “airport novels”. Often called popular or genre fiction, Jeffrey Archer, Ruth Rendell, Ken Follet, John Grisham, Dan Brown are but some of its luminaries.

Oh dear, I know my fiancee borrows countless books from this lady. My sweetheart must have the same taste as her. Airport novels only.

Such fast-paced novels have been accused of lacking any depth. Could my beloved possibly be shallow? This cannot be. Whilst hooked on the latest riveting novel, she must find something there for her soul. Surely.

Oh, what’s this? My darling has moved on. Her delicate finger slides along the spines of books by John Banville, Peter Carey, Philip Roth, Annie Proulx , JM Coetzee, Margaret Attwood. Ah, what books indeed!

Literature. Books incorporating beauty of language causing the heart to stir. She has taken two off the shelf. She is going to buy them.

She loves literature!

Oh dear. She’s probably better read than I.

I scurry down the aisle, grab a copy of A Nutshell’s Guide to How to Survive a Smarter, Better Read Wife and head for the exit.

DARE YOU KISS A GRAVEDIGGER?

Eric Forbes, my intrepid editor for the past decade, has suggested that I unleash on you good folk a new collection of short stories as a follow up to 44 Cemetery Road: The Best of Tunku Halim.

I came up with the title: Gravedigger’s Kiss.

As with 44 Cemetery Road, the collection will comprise 18 stories from my previous collections, plus 3 new ones. Compared to 44 Cemetery Road sitting at 335 pages, Gravedigger’s Kiss is going to be a whopper at more that 460 pages. Real value for money!

Keeping to the title structure of 44 Cemetery Road: The Best of Tunku Halim, we thought that Gravedigger’s Kiss: More of Tunku Halim would be great.

But to be quite honest, I prefer Gravedigger’s Kiss: The Best of Tunku Halim 2

Why? I feel that it’s a more marketable title. I’m worried that if you saw read the title of both books you might think that the stories in Gravedigger’s Kiss are not as good as those in 44 Cemetery Road. That’s just not true.

Gravedigger’s Kiss contains some of my best tales including “Mr Petronas” (it’s about an orang minyak and the twin towers!), “Strangling the Soul”, “The Woman Who Grew Horns” and, perhaps my very best, the novella “Juriah’s Song”. “Juriah’s Song” is almost 20,000 words in length, hence this much thicker book.

The only drawback is that only 6 or 7 of my previous stories don’t make it into either collection. Which means most of my stories are “the best”. Is this puffery gone too far?

Which should I go for?

Gravedigger’s Kiss: More of Tunku Halim or
Gravedigger’s Kiss: The Best of Tunku Halim 2

PEN OR KEYBOARD?

I’ve been asked whether I write manually or whether I use the machine. I do both. But mostly it’s done on the computer.

Each method has its advantages and disadvantages. The computer is faster in the sense that I’m producing a typed out version as I write. Also I’m so used to typing that words flow better for me on the keyboard.

The trouble is that as sentences appear on screen, I end up doing a lot of editing well before the story is complete. There’s so much rewriting going on that the story gets stuck. It can be painfully slow.

With a computer, it is vital for me to be disciplined and not go back and edit sentences and paragraphs. I find that to be productive that I need to keep moving on, to work on that character, to paint that setting, to work the dialogue, to get that story down. My aim is to complete a first draft. Then the rewrite can begin.

Trouble is, I’m not all that disciplined. Using a computer also means I’m stuck to the desk. It’s a laptop but I don’t enjoy having it on my lap on the armchair or sofa. Writing manually can be done almost anywhere. I’m not tied to a screen. It feels more organic.

Yet with pen and paper, making corrections is difficult but the initial draft is quicker to compose. I then type in the hand written manuscript. So, in that way, it requires two steps. The re-writing begins as I type the story in.

I wonder if the writing process affects the writing or even the story itself.

My stories “One Day for Adlan Mutalib” was hand written whilst “Four Numbers for Eric Kwok” was composed solely on a machine. (Both stories are in 44 Cemetery Road)

Note: Thanks to Blabarella for posing this initial question on my blog!

THIS MORNING’S ARTICLE

This morning I read an article by the Australian writer, David Malouf.

His words struck me:

“In the end a writer is the work that appears under his name, not a personality or character; all that in time gets lost . . .

“It takes a little time to discover you may be a writer. What consolidates it for you, as they come (slowly sometimes) and accumulate, are the writings: poems, stories, the second novel rather than the first. . . it is the body of work that defines you and the body of work to which you are committed.”

For many years, I’ve been reluctant to call myself a writer, perhaps feeling I did not have a sufficient body of work. Perhaps not feeling I’d pushed myself hard enough or made a substantial contribution to the Malaysian literary scene. Now I realise calling oneself a writer is not critical, it’s the act of writing that matters.

David Malouf continues:

“Stories I tend to write ‘as they come’. That is, I make a start, and when I can no longer see how the story is to go on I set it aside, often for three or four years, until I see how it might finish. When I want to make a collection I go to the stories and see what I’ve got, what I can finish . . .”

The 3 new stories in 44 Cemetery Road have a similar history.

I started “44 Cemetery Road”, “Plane Load” and “The Year 1972” over 4 years ago but they stalled. When I was asked to write 3 new tales for this collection, I went back to those drafts and finished them. Unlike my other stories in the collection, my 3 new tales had a long gestation period.

What stories have you started but haven’t finished?

UNWRAPPING THAT BOOK

Living overseas I only received my six copies of 44 Cemetery Road a couple of days ago.

It’s always an odd sensation seeing my work in print. My 11th book but the feeling is no different than when I received my first one 16 years ago.

There’s always a feeling of excitement, joy, pleasure. Yet, strangely enough, these uplifting emotions are mixed with a tinge of anti climax, a sort of “there it is, so what, big deal.” How ungrateful, how unappreciative, one might think. Perhaps it’s just me. I wonder if other writers have felt that.

I stare at the cover. Sometimes I’m disappointed. At other times I think, “it’s okay, not too bad”. But this time, with 44 Cemetery Road, I feel elated. No doubt I took the cover photo and I’m proud of that, but it’s also a good cover.

I flip to the blurb. Sometimes I’m not too happy with the way it turned out. The font is too small. This time the size is perfect. Not too much text too. Easy to read. Easy on the eyes. Yes, I think it’s fine.

Then I dip into the pages, a paragraph here and there. I’m standing up, body still, my eyes shooting. I devour entire pages. I’m worried I might find a mistake, a typo. I try to stop myself but I’m already editing, could I have rephrased that, should I have used a better word. Is that sentence too long?

It’s done, I say to myself. You can’t change anything.

The book now has a life on its own.

I sit and wonder how the bookshops are displaying it. Will it be prominent? I hope it’ll sell well.

Mostly though, I hope readers will enjoy it.

Time to get back to that next book.

MY STAR INTERVIEW

In case you didn’t see it, I was in The Star on Sunday. What wonderful publicity for 44 Cemetery Road and such great timing too as the book only came out a few days earlier. Certainly this is a great start to what I hope it will help make the book successful!

Publicity is the key to a book selling well. So says Lydia Teh, and we know its true!

You’ll also find an article on me at Yang-May Ooi’s blog – Fusion View. (My thanks to her and Daphne Lee)
Here’s the Star article:

YOU’RE GOT TO START SOMEWHERE

We were interested in three chilling new tales by Malaysia’s best known scary story writer – but the generous Tunku Halim was more interested in offering support for local writers.

By DAPHNE LEE

IN a 2001 article at arts portal kakiseni.com, writer and indie filmmaker Amir Muhammad called Tunku Halim Tunku Abdullah “Malaysia’s Stephen King”. A compliment indeed!

We caught up with Halim (as the unpretentious writer prefers to be called) recently when he was in Kuala Lumpur and asked him what he makes of this comparison.

Tunku Halim Tunku Abdullah, actually doesn’t like his work labelled ‘horror’, as ‘it is simplistic and conjures up images of blood and gore’.

“King is a wonderful author,” Halim says.

“Many of his works are full bloody horror stories: Salem’s Lot, Carrie and Pet Semetary. Yet, some of his tales, like Dreamcatcher, are closer to science fiction. Some are also pure fantasy: The Dark Tower series, for instance. Some are even quite literary, like Bag of Bones.

“And he has very mainstream work, like his short stories, The Shawshank Redemption and Standby Me, which were turned into movies. So, yes, to be called Malaysia’s Stephen King is an honour. I think it’s a pretty good description as my writing also crosses different genres.”

Unlike what many readers think, Halim does not just write horror fiction and thrillers, having published titles as diverse as Everything the Condominium Developer Should Have Told You, But Didn’t (1992), The New Golf Paradigm (with Kris Barkway; 2001), and A Children’s History of Malaysia (2003). However, the bulk of Halim’s work comprises tales of the macabre.

“Most people would use the term ‘horror’,” he says, “but I don’t actually like that expression as it is simplistic and conjures up images of blood and gore. There’s also the expectation that the stories have to be scary. Recently, the term ‘supernatural thriller’ has been used for certain horror movies. This is a small improvement as the viewer or reader no longer expects blood and gore, but the expectation of fear or suspense remains.”

He concedes that some of his stories are “rather ghastly”.

“Some can induce fear. Many don’t. But what is common is the supernatural element. I prefer the (Edgar Allen) Poe-like phrase ‘tales of darkness and imagination’ or the more succinct but less accurate ‘dark fantasy’.”

His latest book is a “best of”, comprising 21 “tales of darkness and imagination” (as the back cover blurb proclaims) from three previous short story collections, plus three new chilling tales, including 44 Cemetery Road, from which the book takes its name.

“‘Four-four’ and then ‘cemetery’,” grins Halim with a wicked twinkle, referring to the fact that, in Chinese, the character for the number four and for death is similar. “What an unfortunate address!”

He refused to divulge what the story is about, but readers can rush out and get the book now as it was published earlier this week.

The 43-year-old Petaling Jaya native (who is the youngest son of Tunku Abdullah of the Negri Sembilan royal family) now lives with his wife and two young children in Tasmania. He is a lawyer by training, but has been writing full time since the late 1990s.

“There is a vibrant writing culture where I live,” he says. “There is a writing centre that organises talks for budding writers on how to write and to get published. There is a lot of sharing and encouragement. The community spirit is strong, which is important as writing can be a lonely activity, and yet the fruits of writing depend on others’ notice to thrive.”

He feels that Malaysian writers could benefit from a stronger writing community to support them. He suggests the formation of a “writers society”. “Through such a society, ideas and skills can be exchanged. It will be supportive of local writers and their writings. The society can, once established, also offer writing courses to members.”

Halim feels that a variety of writing courses should be offered. “Not just a standard creative writing course. How about offering courses for the short story, the novel, non-fiction, poetry, popular fiction, plays?”

He laments the fact that in Malaysia, budding writers don’t really have much to aspire to. “Their work gets scant publicity,” he says. “Unlike fine art and theatre, local writers and their books seem to be hidden in the background. When was the last time a local writer gave a talk at a school near you?”

Halim remembers entering a writing competition organised by the New Straits Times and Shell. “I didn’t win but it was exactly the spur I needed to get writing. Young writers need incentives like that.” (The competition ran for several years but is now defunct.)

As for already published authors, Halim suggests a “best book of the year award, from a recognised body, even if it’s only at a municipal level, for example, the local library.”

He also believes in mentorship. “It would be good for experienced writers to work with those who are just starting out,” he says, adding that local publishers may be able to act as “networking vehicles for all writers”, putting published and experienced writers in touch with those who are still aspiring to the craft.

He is willing to help other authors in any way he can and has set up a blog, Write lah! (tunkuhalim.wordpress.com), expressly to share writing and publishing tips with younger, less experienced writers – specifically Malaysian writers, as the blog’s subtitle is “Writing for Malaysians”.

A recent post even features a scanned copy of a short story. The story, type-written on a piece of yellowing paper covered in stains (one blotch looks suspiciously like blood!), is called The Thing in the Jungle and features a vampire – Halim was writing horror when he was 14, it seems!

“It’s not a particularly good story,” says Halim in the blog, “nor well written. But you’ve got to start somewhere!”

His latest project is an encyclopaedia of Malaysian history, for children. “It’s a huge project and it’s taken me three years to get to the point where I can say it’s almost complete.

“Other than commissioning the illustrations, I’m doing all the work myself – from taking photographs, Photoshopping (touching up images with Photoshop software), graphic design and layout. Of course, I do the writing too,” he says.

The book, which Halim is publishing himself, comprises 26 topics and covers the history of this country from the first century to the present. It will be available at the end of this year.

Halim reckons it’s a natural progression from the book of Malaysian history, A Children’s History of Malaysia, he published four years ago. To him history is exciting and interesting but often suffers from by being presented in a dry and colourless manner. With his book and the encyclopaedia, he hopes to excite enthusiasm for Malaysia’s fascinating past.

Surprisingly, however, he has not read A Children’s History of Malaysia to his children. “This reminds me that I should,” he says. “I try not to foist my writing on them!

“My daughter, who’s 10, has read Chapter One of the book. She’s intrigued. But she’s been distracted by other more riveting fantasy books!”