Rebecca Ilham's Blog, page 26
January 2, 2011
Kimono Ungu Bakal Didiskusikan
Kumpulan cerpen Kimono Ungu Bersulam Bunga akan diulas oleh Sdr Mohd Ali Atan dalam majlis diskusi buku di Akademi Pengajian Melayu, Universiti Malaya (APMUM) pada 6 Januari 2011, jam 10 pagi.
January 1, 2011
Why Be In The Dark When You Have The Choice to Be In The Light?
Saya tidak boleh menulis emosi hitam - saya bukan orang yang suka berlarut-larut meladeni, melayani tekanan; balik ke rumah sunyi, masuk ke bilik yang gelap macam gua, tutup lampu, tarik selimut sampai tutup kepala lalu tidur 14 jam. Saya pernah membaca buku-buku fiksyen YA tentang remaja depresi seperti ini (masih membacanya kadang-kala), malah pernah mengikutkan hati melakukan perkara seperti yang digambar di atas atas sebab-sebab bodoh, tetapi apabila terbangun dari tidur 14 jam itu, saya akan berasa sangat lemah kerana tidak bertegas dengan diri sendiri. Maka saya akan berjanji untuk tidak mengulanginya lagi.
Maka, adakah saya seorang yang palsu dan berpura-pura kalau saya menolak untuk menulis tentang emosi hitam?
Saya bukan ustazah, tetapi sudah banyak kali saya gagal menemukan ketenangan dengan cara selain mendekatkan diri dengan Tuhan, dengan fitrah. Jikalau saya menolak untuk menulis tentang kebenaran yang saya temui ini, bukankah itu lebih palsu dan berpura-pura?
Ya, tentunya saya punya sisi gelap sendiri. Tetapi apakala saya tidak membiarkannya mendominasi personaliti dengan menjadikannya satu kaedah check and balance kelemahan serta kekuatan diri - tentu ia tidak mendefinisikan siapa saya sebagai manusia, atau juga penulis. Maka perlukah saya menulis tentang sesuatu yang tidak saya mesrai?
Saya tidak memiliki, atau setepatnya, telah merdeka daripada kekacauan jiwa seperti yang digambarkan Ryu Murakami dalam Piercing, atau Sylvia Plath dalam The Bell Jar.
Dan kamu, bila lagi?
Maka, adakah saya seorang yang palsu dan berpura-pura kalau saya menolak untuk menulis tentang emosi hitam?
Saya bukan ustazah, tetapi sudah banyak kali saya gagal menemukan ketenangan dengan cara selain mendekatkan diri dengan Tuhan, dengan fitrah. Jikalau saya menolak untuk menulis tentang kebenaran yang saya temui ini, bukankah itu lebih palsu dan berpura-pura?
Ya, tentunya saya punya sisi gelap sendiri. Tetapi apakala saya tidak membiarkannya mendominasi personaliti dengan menjadikannya satu kaedah check and balance kelemahan serta kekuatan diri - tentu ia tidak mendefinisikan siapa saya sebagai manusia, atau juga penulis. Maka perlukah saya menulis tentang sesuatu yang tidak saya mesrai?
Saya tidak memiliki, atau setepatnya, telah merdeka daripada kekacauan jiwa seperti yang digambarkan Ryu Murakami dalam Piercing, atau Sylvia Plath dalam The Bell Jar.
Dan kamu, bila lagi?
December 28, 2010
Numbers + Emotions = Beauty
Alhamdulillah, I was rewarded with the time and opportunities to read and finish "The Housekeeper and The Professor" by Yoko Ogawa, a book that caught my attention since I was still in the US. Saw it in Kansai Airport while waiting for my flight home as well, but I finally purchased it at a fraction of its retail price in - where else - Book Xcess.
It is a thin novel, as Ogawa's other works such as The Diving Pool and Hotel Iris. Even though Ogawa comes into fame through The Diving Pool, which is available at Book Xcess way before THaTP becomes available over the weekend (I think), I was not intrigued to get know her through the former novel. Hotel Iris was published sometimes recently, and from the gist I gathered through Kinokuniya's newsletter, the book is Ryu Murakami-like, who after wasting my time reading Piercing, is in my list of one of the most memorable authors. Hence, The Diving Pool, with its dark cover, must be along the same line.
Anyway. I was first attracted to THaTP because when I first flipped through it, I saw equations and mathematical notations.
How geeky.
Reading the book was an experience like no other. I was taken back to my college days through Euler's formula - it was introduced in my DiffEq class (or was it Calc 3? I'm pretty sure it was DiffEq...), which now that I think about it, was taught by a Math teacher so good looking that it was worth getting up early and attending his 8 o'clock class, three times a week. I have also forgotten all about the imaginary numbers, but Ogawa reminded me of it.
I sometimes thought how mathematicians are "syok-sendiri" with their imaginary numbers, negative numbers, 4-D planes, etc; Ogawa didn't argue with that notion, she agreed even, but went further and claimed that that is the beauty of mathematics - it makes sense, but it doesn't; all at the same time.
Just like life, and its complications. Which I think, are the main points Ogawa wanted to convey to readers.
I was amazed at how Ogawa linked everything together. Whatever happened throughout the book, they would all be traced back to numbers - be it The Professor's 80-minutes memory, The Housekeeper's hardship as a single, unmarried young mother, Root's maturity despite his young age and The Silently Suffering Widowed Sister-in-Law. If you wanted to be technical, then yes, numbers is the main theme, while the sub-plots are the side journeys to explore the characters and bring them all home to ... the numbers.
I finished the book during lunch hour, in the noisy food court in the shopping mall near my workplace, fighting back tears as the characters - or maybe only The Professor - returned "home."
It is a thin novel, as Ogawa's other works such as The Diving Pool and Hotel Iris. Even though Ogawa comes into fame through The Diving Pool, which is available at Book Xcess way before THaTP becomes available over the weekend (I think), I was not intrigued to get know her through the former novel. Hotel Iris was published sometimes recently, and from the gist I gathered through Kinokuniya's newsletter, the book is Ryu Murakami-like, who after wasting my time reading Piercing, is in my list of one of the most memorable authors. Hence, The Diving Pool, with its dark cover, must be along the same line.
Anyway. I was first attracted to THaTP because when I first flipped through it, I saw equations and mathematical notations.
How geeky.
Reading the book was an experience like no other. I was taken back to my college days through Euler's formula - it was introduced in my DiffEq class (or was it Calc 3? I'm pretty sure it was DiffEq...), which now that I think about it, was taught by a Math teacher so good looking that it was worth getting up early and attending his 8 o'clock class, three times a week. I have also forgotten all about the imaginary numbers, but Ogawa reminded me of it.
I sometimes thought how mathematicians are "syok-sendiri" with their imaginary numbers, negative numbers, 4-D planes, etc; Ogawa didn't argue with that notion, she agreed even, but went further and claimed that that is the beauty of mathematics - it makes sense, but it doesn't; all at the same time.
Just like life, and its complications. Which I think, are the main points Ogawa wanted to convey to readers.
I was amazed at how Ogawa linked everything together. Whatever happened throughout the book, they would all be traced back to numbers - be it The Professor's 80-minutes memory, The Housekeeper's hardship as a single, unmarried young mother, Root's maturity despite his young age and The Silently Suffering Widowed Sister-in-Law. If you wanted to be technical, then yes, numbers is the main theme, while the sub-plots are the side journeys to explore the characters and bring them all home to ... the numbers.
I finished the book during lunch hour, in the noisy food court in the shopping mall near my workplace, fighting back tears as the characters - or maybe only The Professor - returned "home."
Aesthetic in Lolita
[image error]
This is the exact image of my Lo-lee-ta, borrowd from here
Finally I finished reading my copy of Lolita, purchased 3 years ago from Tattered Cover Bookstore upon finishing Azar Nafisi's celebrated memoir - Reading Lolita in Tehran.
In between the purchase and the actual act of reading it front to back, I'd met Dr Nafisi during a book signing session - in Tattered Cover, no less - and read her second memoir (Things I've Been Silent About). Not to mention that I'd attempted to read Lolita a couple of times, to no avail.
The reason for such tardiness is actually an echo, of so many before me. Why on earth did Nabokov write Lolita? Why would people want to read a psychotic account of a pedophilia, justifying his taboo-ed, incestuous relationship with his 12-year old stepdaughter? And why, oh why, does Lolita receive critical acclaims, and has been read widely for decades (my personal copy is a 50th Anniversary Edition)?
Lolita was beautifully written, no doubt about that. The words were carefully chosen and constructed while the punctuations were accurately placed. The proses flowed gracefully. I have this quirks of muttering aloud of what I read, and the sentences felt like they melted at the tip of my tongue.
Even though structurally the novel appeared effortlessly written, Nabokov shared that he spent days, even weeks and months on a scene. No wonder they are wonderful, to the extent that I had to remind myself sometimes, that English is not Nabokov's first language. Lolita was after all, claimed Nabokov himself, "was the record of my love affair with the English language."
The intentional twists and turns also kept me glued to it, once I was assured by Rahimidin Zahari's words that Lolita is not porn. Believe it or not, four initial publishers rejected Lolita because the p-part never took off. Bravo, Nabokov!
But is there anything else that I learned from Lolita?
Now that I think about it, while consciously I sort of scorn upon it, but unconsciously, who knows? Maybe whatever lesson I learned will surface out, maybe never!
Finally I finished reading my copy of Lolita, purchased 3 years ago from Tattered Cover Bookstore upon finishing Azar Nafisi's celebrated memoir - Reading Lolita in Tehran.
In between the purchase and the actual act of reading it front to back, I'd met Dr Nafisi during a book signing session - in Tattered Cover, no less - and read her second memoir (Things I've Been Silent About). Not to mention that I'd attempted to read Lolita a couple of times, to no avail.
The reason for such tardiness is actually an echo, of so many before me. Why on earth did Nabokov write Lolita? Why would people want to read a psychotic account of a pedophilia, justifying his taboo-ed, incestuous relationship with his 12-year old stepdaughter? And why, oh why, does Lolita receive critical acclaims, and has been read widely for decades (my personal copy is a 50th Anniversary Edition)?
Lolita was beautifully written, no doubt about that. The words were carefully chosen and constructed while the punctuations were accurately placed. The proses flowed gracefully. I have this quirks of muttering aloud of what I read, and the sentences felt like they melted at the tip of my tongue.
Even though structurally the novel appeared effortlessly written, Nabokov shared that he spent days, even weeks and months on a scene. No wonder they are wonderful, to the extent that I had to remind myself sometimes, that English is not Nabokov's first language. Lolita was after all, claimed Nabokov himself, "was the record of my love affair with the English language."
The intentional twists and turns also kept me glued to it, once I was assured by Rahimidin Zahari's words that Lolita is not porn. Believe it or not, four initial publishers rejected Lolita because the p-part never took off. Bravo, Nabokov!
But is there anything else that I learned from Lolita?
Now that I think about it, while consciously I sort of scorn upon it, but unconsciously, who knows? Maybe whatever lesson I learned will surface out, maybe never!
December 11, 2010
Cerpen CITRA VENEZIA di MM, 12 Disember 2010
"Aku masih tak percaya Tuhan, Zah."
Zahra tersenyum.
Sedikit pun ujaran jujur tidak membekas di hatinya. Alistair barangkali melontar provokasi.
Tambahan pula, lelaki itu baru sahaja menghadiri pembentangan kertas kerjanya. Zahra bahkan lebih terkejut dengan kehadiran Alistair ke persidangan sains dan agama yang berlangsung di Universita Ca' Forsica. Alistair Henry tidakkah paling anti sebarang cubaan, perkaitan malahan bukti-bukti yang menghubungkan sains dengan agama?
"Tahan juga telinga engkau menadah pembentangan aku, ya?"
Oleh Rebecca Ilham
Mingguan Malaysia, 12 Disember 2010
Alhamdulillah.
Cerpen "Citra Venezia" disiarkan akhbar Mingguan Malaysia hari ini, 12 Disember 2010.
Saya sebetulnya berharapan agar sempat melihat sebuah cerpen terbit sebelum tirai 2010 dilabuhkan dan cerpen ini memenuhi harapan itu meski pun pada mulanya tindakan untuk menghantarnya ke MM adalah keputusan berisiko tinggi berikutan sukarnya menembusi akhbar arus perdana itu. Tambahan pula, cerpen "Dialog Subuh" sudah pun disiarkan MM lewat bulan Mei yang lalu.
Namun, ada faktor lain yang mendorong tindakan saya itu. Faktor 'cemburu.' Cemburu untuk menandingi tentunya, bukan cemburu untuk mengkhianati!
Sedikit tentang proses kreatif - cetusan untuk cerpen ini berlaku tiba-tiba. Saya sedang mengulangkaji untuk penilaian teknikal di tempat kerja dan sangat stres tentangnya. Maka, saya berhasrat untuk merakamkan 'seksa' yang pertama kali saya lalui ini, dan akan berulang lagi pada tahun-tahun akan datang. I might as well get something I love out of something I hate, right? ;)
Maka saya pun memilih teori keseimbangan material (material balance equation-MBE) yang merupakan salah satu metodologi manual menghitung jumlah minyak mentah dan gas asli yang mampu dikeluarkan oleh sesebuah takungan. Kebetulan menonton satu episod CSI beberapa minggu sebelumnya, terlintas juga untuk menggabungkan MBE dengan Hukum Newton Ketiga. Dengan itu, lahirlah watak Zahra, seorang jurutera petroleum dan Alistair, seorang ahli fizik.
Mereka bercakap tentang Tuhan, tentang bagaimana sains 'memberitahu' tentang kewujudan Tuhan, di suatu petang di pinggir terusan utama - Canalasso - di Venice diiringi alunan Le Quattro Stagioni, empat konserto gubahan Giacomo Vivaldi.
Argh, saya bercakap terlalu panjang!
Selamat membaca pada anda!
November 14, 2010
Peran Gender Yang Terjungkir Balik
Imej dipinjam dari laman WikipediaBulan ini ialah "Bulan Membeli Buku Secara Impulsif". Akhir minggu lalu, saya gatal mulut bertanyakan manga Ooku Volume 1 yang saya tempah seminggu sebelumnya di Kinokuniya sementelah tidak menerima sebarang panggilan telefon tentangnya. Dan 'padan muka' saya, manga yang dipesan khas kerana kehabisan stok itu telah tiba di kedai buku berkenaan.
Ooku pertama kali menggamit minat saya ketika ia dipamerkan di rak khas New Arrivals barangkali setengah tahun lalu. Ketika itu ia baru menang James Tiptree Jr Award, anugerah yang diberikan kepada karya sains fantasi yang menyelongkar isu serta persoalan gender untuk tahun 2009. Tetapi pada masa itu, saya tidak tahu tentang tujuan Tiptree Award. Yang saya tahu, label "M" untuk pembaca matang dan amaran "Parental Advisory Explicit Content" di kulit hadapan dan belakang manga itu menangguhkan niat untuk membeli dan membacanya meski Ooku seharusnya punya selling point yang kuat kepada seorang feminis.
Ooku merupakan sebuah karya yang dibina di dunia alternatif pada zaman feudal, atau setepatnya pada zaman pemerintahan Tokugawa yang bertempat negara Jepun. Bayangkan, kata Fumi Yoshinaga, populasi lelaki di Jepun hanya seperempat daripada wanita akibat serangan sejenis penyakit cacar. Lelaki jadi komoditi yang sangat berharga - mereka dilindungi, dilarang bekerja keras dan benih mereka menjadi rebutan untuk memastikan kemandirian manusia di negara itu.
Oleh sebab lelaki kini menjadi gender minoriti, segala peranan pemerintahan dan pentadbiran diambil alih sepenuhnya oleh wanita. Hatta, syogun dan para penasihatnya juga wanita. Seperti para pemerintah lelaki yang mempunyai harem besar dipenuhi para gundik, syogun di alternate Japan ini juga mempunyai inner chamber (ooku) sendiri, yang didiami 3000 orang lelaki, dan sebahagiannya merupakan lelaki-lelaki paling kacak di seluruh Jepun. Peranan mereka tidak berbeza dengan peranan tipikal dan konvensional gundik-gundik perempuan.
Bahkan, perangai mereka juga sama!
Mula-mula, terasa kelakar meladeni kerenah lelaki-lelaki 'simpanan' ini menikam belakang sesama sendiri. Memang tak ubah seperti perangai cemburu perempuan juga. Kehadiran Mizuno yang memberontak juga mengingatkan saya akan perwatakan tipikal gundik perempuan yang bakal jadi favorite raja. Telahan itu terbukti apabila Mizuno dipilih sebagai secret swain syogun Yoshimune.
Namun kemudiannya plot tidak lagi dapat ditebak. Mizuno yang menjadi fokus pada awal buku pertama ini rupa-rupanya bukanlah watak utama. Sebaliknya, Ooku membawa gagasan yang lebih besar daripada hal-hal 'dalam kelambu.'
Yoshimune, seorang syogun yang sangat tegas dalam hal ehwal perbendaharaan negara, mempersoalkan tentang gelar nama yang digunakan oleh wanita di Jepun. Dia hairan kerana meski wanita memegang tampuk pemerintahan tertinggi, tetapi nama keluarga yang digunakan masih nama lelaki. Malah, Yoshimune pernah tanpa sengaja menyangka Reverend Kasuga, orang yang mula-mula menubuhkan sistem Ooku untuk syogun wanita sebagai seorang lelaki juga.
Di samping itu, ketika menerima wakil dari rombongan dagang dari luar negara menghadap, Yoshimune diwajibkan mengenakan persalinan lelaki sehingga disangka budak muda oleh kapitan Belanda tersebut. Bak kata Yoshimune kepada Murase-san, jurucatat istana yang berusia hampr 100 tahun, "kalau dilihat kepada rekod dan dokumentasi, orang luar akan menyangka negara ini diterajui lelaki."
Untuk mencari jawapan terhadap persoalan yang mengganggunya itu, tentang adakah wanita memerintah Jepun sejak azali, Murase-san yang dilahirkan dan remaja sebelum populasi lelaki surut mendadak itu telah menyerahkan Chronicles of Dying Days kepada Yoshimune. Buku kedua dan seterusnya (setakat ini ada empat kalau tak salah), merupakan kisah dalam dokumentasi yang dicatat oleh Murase-san itu. Saya sudah bibliobankrupsi bulan ini, maka terpaksalah tunggu gaji seterusnya untuk mengetahui kisah lanjut dalam inner chamber istana Edo (kini Tokyo).
Sungguh pun begitu, terdapat beberapa persoalan gender yang dicetuskan Fumi Yoshinaga yang menarik sekali pada pandangan saya:
1. Adakah bilangan (dalam kes ini populasi) penting dalam menentukan pegangan kuasa?
2. Benarkah perangai lelaki dan wanita itu tiada beza, apabila diletakkan dalam situasi yang sama (perbandingan antara peranan tipikal masa kini dengan alternatif ciptaan Yoshinaga)?
3. Berapa lamakah perubahan (wanita mengambil alih peranan lelaki) diterima menjadi kebiasaan?
Siapa kata manga tidak berfaedah? Cuma perlu pandai pilih (seperti yang lain-lain juga)!
November 5, 2010
Belajar Tinggi-Tinggi Akhirnya Ke Dapur Juga
I wanted to get The Haunted Bookshop from Kino, to read over the (slightly) long(er) weekend, but it is listed to be over RM100. Thus I decided to consult a friend who's rated it 4 stars on Goodreads. She recommended it, and also the prequel - Parnassus on Wheels. Kino has Parnassus on standard paperback price, hence I was less reluctant to purchase it.
I read Parnassus expecting it to be a book about books, but I discovered it was so much more than that. It was a classic ode to feminism! Haha.
Helen McGill has been keeping the farm household for her brother, farmer-turned-author Andrew McGill for 15 years. During that duration, she has compiled an 'anthology' of 6000 loaves of bread and collected 1300 dozens of eggs while he vanished some time or other on his vagabond trips to find materials for his books, shirking the responsibilities on Sabine Farm solely to his sister. Helen was tired of it, she had been hiding, intercepting a lot of messages from publishers and fans alike to prevent Andrew from leading, continuing such 'irresponsible' life but to no avail.
Therefore, when one day, Roger 'Professor' Mifflin in his Parnassus, driven by a horse named Pegasus stopped by with an offer to sell his wagon of a traveling bookshop to Andrew for $400, Helen seized the opportunity to buy it for herself and went on her first vacation in 15 years!
I was amazed by Helen's impulsiveness. She decided in less than 15 minutes, and took another quarter of an hour to write a check, leave Andrew a note, packed and instructed her slow-witted Swede helper about the matter of the household. Then she was off!
Alongside Mifflin who taught her the gospel of good books, Helen learned to embrace her newly found freedom. At one point, she even felt like shouting to a housewife who was busy with chores, "Oh, silly woman! Leave you stoves, your pots and pans and chores, even if only for one day! Come out and see the sun in the sky and the rive in the distance!"
This liberation went further as the plot progressed, Helen learned to take charge of her life, and to acknowledge her desire as a woman - even as a near 40 years old - to love and be loved.
Of course there are other angles on which this book can be discussed, but as someone who loves books and passionate about feminism, I can be a lot biased when books become a device that liberate women from their typical roles.
However, I was less than satisfied with the ending. I was disappointed when Helen referred to Mifflin (who was now the love of her life) as "my master." And when she got back to Sabine Farm, she quickly assumed her role of the woman of the household while the men 'gossiped' (about her) in the sitting room. Like, after all those adventures then you go back to that? It's no different that the famous Malay notion, "belajar tinggi-tinggi pun akhirnya ke dapur juga."
Blrrrgh.
I read Parnassus expecting it to be a book about books, but I discovered it was so much more than that. It was a classic ode to feminism! Haha.
Helen McGill has been keeping the farm household for her brother, farmer-turned-author Andrew McGill for 15 years. During that duration, she has compiled an 'anthology' of 6000 loaves of bread and collected 1300 dozens of eggs while he vanished some time or other on his vagabond trips to find materials for his books, shirking the responsibilities on Sabine Farm solely to his sister. Helen was tired of it, she had been hiding, intercepting a lot of messages from publishers and fans alike to prevent Andrew from leading, continuing such 'irresponsible' life but to no avail.
Therefore, when one day, Roger 'Professor' Mifflin in his Parnassus, driven by a horse named Pegasus stopped by with an offer to sell his wagon of a traveling bookshop to Andrew for $400, Helen seized the opportunity to buy it for herself and went on her first vacation in 15 years!
I was amazed by Helen's impulsiveness. She decided in less than 15 minutes, and took another quarter of an hour to write a check, leave Andrew a note, packed and instructed her slow-witted Swede helper about the matter of the household. Then she was off!
Alongside Mifflin who taught her the gospel of good books, Helen learned to embrace her newly found freedom. At one point, she even felt like shouting to a housewife who was busy with chores, "Oh, silly woman! Leave you stoves, your pots and pans and chores, even if only for one day! Come out and see the sun in the sky and the rive in the distance!"
This liberation went further as the plot progressed, Helen learned to take charge of her life, and to acknowledge her desire as a woman - even as a near 40 years old - to love and be loved.
Of course there are other angles on which this book can be discussed, but as someone who loves books and passionate about feminism, I can be a lot biased when books become a device that liberate women from their typical roles.
However, I was less than satisfied with the ending. I was disappointed when Helen referred to Mifflin (who was now the love of her life) as "my master." And when she got back to Sabine Farm, she quickly assumed her role of the woman of the household while the men 'gossiped' (about her) in the sitting room. Like, after all those adventures then you go back to that? It's no different that the famous Malay notion, "belajar tinggi-tinggi pun akhirnya ke dapur juga."
Blrrrgh.
November 3, 2010
Library Task Force Protecting The Sanctity and Existence of (Banned) Books
So I finished The Bell Jar during lunch hour. That posed a problematic situation; I didn't have anything decent to read during the journey back home. The thing about working in the vicinity of the most well-stocked bookstore in the country was, yes, book-shopping convenience.
I have a book by James Wood, Madam Bovary and even The Golden Notebook to be attacked at home, so I needed/wanted something light. Hence, I decided to get a manga. I had set eyes on Library Wars a few weeks back and what can I say, it was kismet, I was destined to purchase and savor it anyway.
So why Library Wars?
Easy. It was a manga about library and books. It was set in near dystopian future where in Japan the Media Betterment Act was passed as a way for the government to confiscate 'indecent' books at their pleasure. In retaliation, state libraries set up their own Library Task Force, where selected librarians were army-trained to protect reading materials.
It was kinda cheesy, because the main characters were 'jual-mahal' to each other but we all know that they will be together-together in the end (I only read Vol. 1). But hey, it's about books. That's a huge selling points for me. I got teary-eyed even, when the Library Task Force Agent went all macho and helped Iku Kasahara when she refused to give up the copy of a fairy tale book she waited for 10 years to the Media Betterment Committee raiding her neighborhood bookstore.
What is WRONG with fairy tales?? I devoured fairy tales as a kid, and I'm still a feminist! I first read Madam Bovary when I was 12, but I didn't turn out like Emma - I hated her even. My parents actually trusted me that much to not filter my preferred reading materials. Why can't others do that as well?
Oh well, that's beside the point. I'm just venting out - a lot of reading materials I savored these past weeks revolved around injustice. It's time to set things right, maybe a la the Library Task Force!
I have a book by James Wood, Madam Bovary and even The Golden Notebook to be attacked at home, so I needed/wanted something light. Hence, I decided to get a manga. I had set eyes on Library Wars a few weeks back and what can I say, it was kismet, I was destined to purchase and savor it anyway.
So why Library Wars?
Easy. It was a manga about library and books. It was set in near dystopian future where in Japan the Media Betterment Act was passed as a way for the government to confiscate 'indecent' books at their pleasure. In retaliation, state libraries set up their own Library Task Force, where selected librarians were army-trained to protect reading materials.
It was kinda cheesy, because the main characters were 'jual-mahal' to each other but we all know that they will be together-together in the end (I only read Vol. 1). But hey, it's about books. That's a huge selling points for me. I got teary-eyed even, when the Library Task Force Agent went all macho and helped Iku Kasahara when she refused to give up the copy of a fairy tale book she waited for 10 years to the Media Betterment Committee raiding her neighborhood bookstore.
What is WRONG with fairy tales?? I devoured fairy tales as a kid, and I'm still a feminist! I first read Madam Bovary when I was 12, but I didn't turn out like Emma - I hated her even. My parents actually trusted me that much to not filter my preferred reading materials. Why can't others do that as well?
Oh well, that's beside the point. I'm just venting out - a lot of reading materials I savored these past weeks revolved around injustice. It's time to set things right, maybe a la the Library Task Force!
November 2, 2010
The Bell Jar: This Is What It Might Be Like If You Decided To Let Go of Life
During the first half of the book, Esther Greenwood's stint in New York reminded me so much of The Catcher in The Rye. It was full of angst (albeit an estrogen-charged one) and pointless, apart from being a novel, and a very convincing one at that.
Then came the second half. Esther was now back in suburban Boston, spending (or wasting) the rest of summer under her mother's roof because her application to enroll in a writing course given by a prominent writer/professor was rejected. Esther expected herself to breeze through the application process, and went on to fulfill her ambition to be a published writer whose short stories would be bought by the likes of the magazine she worked for in New York. But that was not to be.
At this hiccup in life, Esther, who was a straight-A student for 15 years, asked herself: what if I decided to let everything go? Myself, my mind and people's expectations of what I would, could be?
As someone who's all about discourse, and 'educational' novels, I surprised even myself when I found I actually enjoyed the whole book. What was it with me? Or rather with Sylvia Plath herself? Was it this online quiz I took some time ago entitled 'Which Poet Are You?' and my answers spat out that I inclined to be like the darkly emotional Plath?
But I was disappointed when near the end it was implied that Esther's problems seemed to spark off from people's expectations of her marrying medical student, childhood friend Buddy Willard. So you don't love him, or any men for that matter. Can't you just tell him off? Oh well. She did turned down his proposal, but her mother hinted what a nice boy he was. Oh well.
Esther's issues with sexuality were also pretty lame. I can't believe myself that in the end she was 'cured' after being fitted with an IUD because "now I can have sex without getting pregnant, just like men."
I wish being a woman is that easy. But again, this novel was written more than 40 years ago, when things like birth control and non-marital intimacy defined female emancipation.
The ending was alright. I couldn't help feeling please that the IUD turned out to be a disaster. But I was glad that she made Irwin paid for the hospital bills. We never learned what exactly happened, but beware, it involved a hemorrhage. I also like it when Esther said "I don't care" when Buddy Willard upon visiting her during he last few days in Caplan asked, "who would marry you now, Esther (now that you've been institutionalized)?"
That, ladies and gentlemen, is what I call a liberation.
This book reminded me to the movie Girl, Interrupted, which starred Wynona Ryder, who also loved writing and had a disturbed mind. Yikes.
What is it about writing that makes people spiral down under?
Then came the second half. Esther was now back in suburban Boston, spending (or wasting) the rest of summer under her mother's roof because her application to enroll in a writing course given by a prominent writer/professor was rejected. Esther expected herself to breeze through the application process, and went on to fulfill her ambition to be a published writer whose short stories would be bought by the likes of the magazine she worked for in New York. But that was not to be.
At this hiccup in life, Esther, who was a straight-A student for 15 years, asked herself: what if I decided to let everything go? Myself, my mind and people's expectations of what I would, could be?
As someone who's all about discourse, and 'educational' novels, I surprised even myself when I found I actually enjoyed the whole book. What was it with me? Or rather with Sylvia Plath herself? Was it this online quiz I took some time ago entitled 'Which Poet Are You?' and my answers spat out that I inclined to be like the darkly emotional Plath?
But I was disappointed when near the end it was implied that Esther's problems seemed to spark off from people's expectations of her marrying medical student, childhood friend Buddy Willard. So you don't love him, or any men for that matter. Can't you just tell him off? Oh well. She did turned down his proposal, but her mother hinted what a nice boy he was. Oh well.
Esther's issues with sexuality were also pretty lame. I can't believe myself that in the end she was 'cured' after being fitted with an IUD because "now I can have sex without getting pregnant, just like men."
I wish being a woman is that easy. But again, this novel was written more than 40 years ago, when things like birth control and non-marital intimacy defined female emancipation.
The ending was alright. I couldn't help feeling please that the IUD turned out to be a disaster. But I was glad that she made Irwin paid for the hospital bills. We never learned what exactly happened, but beware, it involved a hemorrhage. I also like it when Esther said "I don't care" when Buddy Willard upon visiting her during he last few days in Caplan asked, "who would marry you now, Esther (now that you've been institutionalized)?"
That, ladies and gentlemen, is what I call a liberation.
This book reminded me to the movie Girl, Interrupted, which starred Wynona Ryder, who also loved writing and had a disturbed mind. Yikes.
What is it about writing that makes people spiral down under?
November 1, 2010
Antara Feminisme dan Hak Wanita Mengikut Agama: Kimono Ungu Bersulam Bunga dari Perspektif Seorang Pembaca Lelaki
Gambar ihsan Al Ghazali SulaimanUlasan kumpulan cerpen kecil Kimono Ungu Bersulam Bunga oleh Al Ghazali Sulaiman dalam akhbar KABAR edisi 11-25 Oktober 2010.
