The Star Online: Lifestyle: Bookshelf |
- Tradition trumps Twitter
- Fierce novels from first-timers
- Amir Muhammad makes foray into Malay fiction
Posted: 14 Jun 2011 02:49 AM PDT At a writers' workshop, love of the printed page wins out over the virtual world. INSIDE the 154-year-old Victorian home that houses the Iowa Writers' Workshop, you will see few Amazon Kindles. Twitter is viewed as a potentially disastrous distraction. You can even anger an instructor for mentioning Google in your writing. At a time when so much has changed in the publishing industry, America's oldest and most prestigious creative writing programme embraces tradition. And why not? For more than seven decades, the nation's best young fiction writers and poets have escaped from life to spend two years in Iowa City writing, reading, hearing criticism of their work and meeting lifelong trusted readers. And that formula continues to have success helping top-notch writers develop their craft. The programme, which has helped train everyone from Flannery O'Connor to Michael Cunningham and T.C. Boyle, remains a powerhouse in American literature as it turned 75 last week. To mark the milestone, hundreds of alumni came back to campus in what amounted to an all-star gathering of writers who have breathed the air in Iowa City and that of its once-smoky bars. Even in a town where it is not uncommon to bump into award-winning writers at the grocery store, the reunion is creating tremendous buzz. Pulitzer Prize winners, US National Book Award recipients and MacArthur Foundation "geniuses" were among the hundreds of workshop alumni in attendance. "It's been great to see all these legends of the programme," Arna Hemenway, 23, who just completed his first year in the workshop, said last week during a break from working on a novel in a library filled with thousands of books written by alumni. Hemenway says he feels a bond with those who have gone through before him: "You're toiling under the same sort of magical, strange, impossible thing." Returnees are finding a programme quite similar to the one they knew. Admission remains extremely competitive: The workshop received 1,600 applications last year for just 25 fiction writing and 25 poetry slots. Students take literature seminars from award-winning authors and poets who comprise the faculty. In workshops, they take turns handing in stories and poems to be intensely critiqued by classmates and instructors. Students continue writing and discussing the word at all hours of the day in some of the same bookstores, bars and coffee shops that have long populated this college town. Even the quirky, decades-old tradition of having fiction writers play the poets in a softball game at the end of the spring semester continues (and a similar game was scheduled for Sunday). "I would say that in some ways our programme has not changed," says Lan Samantha Chang, the author who has directed the programme since 2006. "It's true that we've gone from way back when, when people would stand up and read their stories out loud to an auditorium to share their work, to mimeographs to photocopies, but basically the emphasis on writing remains the same here. The focus on writing, apart from the industry and apart from whatever kinds of media are used to carry away the product of what we do here, remains." At the same time, the programme has changed in many ways. Chang, the first woman and Asian-American to lead it, shattered its image as an old boy's club after succeeding the late Frank Conroy. Chang is praised for raising more money for financial aid so students are not competing as much over limited funding as in the sometimes cutthroat past. Chang, who spends every January and February poring over boxes and boxes of manuscripts, says she also has worked to enhance the diversity of the types of writers who are admitted. Benjamin Nugent, who recently graduated from the programme and already has a deal to get his first novel published next year, recalls that he was accepted in 2009 after sending in a manuscript of a comedy about fraternity brothers who accidentally turned their mascot into a demon that sexually assaults them. "I don't think that's what they were writing at Iowa 75 years ago," says Nugent, who wrote, American Nerd: The Story Of My People, before he was admitted. "I think it is a different place." At the same time, Nugent says he will hand-write the first drafts of his stories or even use a typewriter. Like most of his classmates, he does not own an e-reader and prefers paper books. He says he was scolded by a tradition-minded instructor when he turned in his first workshop story for writing about a character who used Google. And although he is as quick-witted as they come, Nugent does not use Twitter. "Lack of distraction is so important when you are writing a novel that using Twitter seems like putting my head on a guillotine," he says. Nonetheless, a university spokesman, Winston Barclay, says he expects "a steady stream of blogs and tweets" to come from writers at reunion events. Joe Fassler, a 27-year-old recent graduate, says to avoid the distraction of a fast Internet connection he often writes at an old, dark bar called the Deadwood, a popular haunt during the 1960s workshop days of writer Raymond Carver. In an interview in one of its booths, Fassler says he is inspired to write fiction as an alternative to the constant drumbeat of traditional and social media. "The reason it's modern and the reason it's so radical now is it's such a slow-burning, heavy-attention medium that really demands someone who is mentally present and not just giving you superficial attention. I really love that aspect of it," Fassler says. "I want to convince people that, in this world of beeps and tweets, spending meditative time with an analog paper book is a worthy pursuit. I want to write so well that I can convince others of that." At the reunion, he set up a room where alumni can record their memories about the programme. "I wonder to what extent things have changed over time, or has it been kind of a timeless experience?" he says. "From the time of Flannery O'Connor to today, how has writing changed? How has publishing changed? How has Iowa City changed? I hope I get some insight into those questions." – AP Full Feed Generated by Get Full RSS, sponsored by USA Best Price. |
Fierce novels from first-timers Posted: 13 Jun 2011 07:17 PM PDT FIXI'S first three novels – Kougar (Couger) by Shaz Johar, Pecah (Broken) by Khairulnizam Bakeri and Cekik (Choke) by Ridhwan Saidi – are written by first-time writers, says publisher Amir Muhammad. None is a full-time writer: Shaz works in a bank, Khairulnizam is pursuing a Masters in accounting and Ridhwan makes short films and actively blogs at binfilem.blogspot.com. The writers took about three months to complete the novels, and each novel has a first print run of 3,000. Amir has just rolled out the fourth book, Dendam (Revenge) by Datuk Dr Affifudin Omar. "The writer used to be former deputy finance minister (from 1995-1999). And now he writes steamy books," Amir says with a smile. "So, it's not just for young writers. We shouldn't feel like (novels) are something foreign or alienating, which is what a lot of literature is, literature with a capital L, I mean." Amir wanted the books to look really different. He was inspired by the late 1980s Vintage Black Lizard series of crime novels that he used to collect. "I like the fact that when you line up the spines they were so consistent and colourful, so I wanted this kind of spine (for Fixi books)." So, Fixi novels sport photographs instead of illustrations, and have "fierce" colours to ensure that they stand out. He's also determined to keep each book at or under RM20 to keep them affordable. Fixi's novels have been greatly helped by social media, with Twitter and Facebook playing a big part in the books' promotion. Some readers have even reviewed the books on their blogs. "Some of these were written by people who have not read a Malay book since school," Amir says proudly. Meanwhile, there are about half a dozen more Fixi novels in the pipeline, and Amir has received over two dozen two-chapter treatments. To meet the cut, the stories have to be entertaining and "make my pulse race". "I don't think in terms of markets. If I don't like to read them, I won't publish them. If I like to read them, it's not impossible that others will like them," he says. Those interested in submitting works, find Matahari on Facebook for details on how to do so. Related Story: |
Amir Muhammad makes foray into Malay fiction Posted: 13 Jun 2011 07:16 PM PDT The local publishing industry welcomes a new name, one that aims to entertain and excite. KUALA LUMPUR-based writer and independent filmmaker Amir Muhammad is stepping into the large, intimidating land of Bahasa Malaysia publishing, and he's frankly excited. "We're going into a crowded field but we're trying something different," he said when I met him during the Kuala Lumpur International Book Fair 2011 in April. Amir already has a publishing company called Matahari, which he had established in 2007. Matahari publishes English and Bahasa Malaysia non-fiction books, or, says Amir, "some book idea which amuses me". Several Matahari-published books have been very popular, such as Malaysian Politicians Say the Darndest Things Vol.1 and Vol.2, and Yasmin Ahmad's Films. Then, in March this year, Amir created Fixi, a company which publishes Bahasa Malaysia fiction. The idea for Fixi came to him in August last year during a book event honouring the most popular books of the year. Amir realised that the majority of the 10 best Bahasa Malaysia novels for that year were romance novels. In fact, he was told that most Bahasa Malaysia readers are women, and that the market leaders are romance novels. "I am not going to be quoted as saying that they're bad or anything, but I just want something slightly different. Because a lot of these books seem to be targeted at young, Malay women – but what about the rest of the population?" asks Amir. "It can't be true that all young Malay women have all the same taste either," he adds. He knows of some women writers who told him that they'd tried to pitch a certain idea to a publishing company only to be told that they want only love stories. "Some even have strict guidelines like 'the bad guy must not win' – it's a market caution thing," says Amir. As he had previously read local author Brian Gomez's thriller Devil Space (he calls it the "best Malaysian novel I've ever read"), he wondered, "Wouldn't it be exciting if we had more books like this, but in Malay where it can reach more people?" Thus, last September he sent out a call for "urban pulp fiction" in Bahasa Malaysia on Matahari's Facebook page. "It's pulp so it can't be ruminative. It has to move, be sensational," he says. Fourteen people replied to his call, but only three authors managed to complete their novels by deadline. "On hindsight, I think three is quite a sane strategy to start with. I had this insane idea of launching six books at the same time, which I think to the consumer is a bit bewildering: 'How do you choose among six?'." In fact, many people came to Fixi's booth at the KL International Book Fair to buy all three books. "If it had been six books I don't think people will buy all six," he said. Initially, Amir thought of publishing the pulp novels under Matahari. However, after speaking to distributors and bookstore representatives he thought that it was worthwhile to create a separate brand that operates differently. However, it took him quite a while to come up with the name for the company. He thought about including the Indonesian word "Fiksi" (fiction) in the name. "I had some really horrible ideas, but just two days before I had to register the company I suddenly thought of 'Fixi' with an "x". It's the only company in Malaysia that is a four letter word starting with F," he jokes. Fixi is a very different brand from Matahari, says Amir. For one, the firm has to be more disciplined and systematic in the way it publishes books. "In order to fulfil distribution criteria we have to publish one novel a month – or else (people) won't take you seriously," he says. The company has to be more structured or else it would get drowned out there as there are so many Malay novels out there, Amir says. "If you come out (with a novel) once in a while, you won't make much of an impact," he points out. This momentum is also needed to sustain readers and inspire confidence in writers to devote months in writing their novels. In terms of sales, the Malay publishing industry is booming and is populated by publishing heavyweights such as Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka, which publishes large numbers of books. And one of the market leaders is probably Alaf 21, which publishes about a dozen new novels a month. Their Facebook page has over 60,000 fans. "A bestselling Malay romance novel can sell up to 50,000 copies," says Amir. "I'm not looking at those kinds of numbers, though, they're not my yardstick – that's why I need to diversify," he said. One of the ways he is doing so is by giving out translation rights, and Amir is currently in contact with publishers in Singapore and Italy. Another is by turning Fixi novels into films. Fixi recently signed an MOU with local production company Prime Works; each book – even before they're published – will be considered for a movie adaptation. "Every month they'll have a new book to consider. So far, out of the first six books (Fixi has published or will publish) they're interested in two or three. We are going into the film treatment stage ... I will be involved as co-producer," he says. "One of the problems of the Malaysian film industry is that people assume that directors can write. That isn't necessarily the case, as a director directs. Usually in other countries, the stories come from somewhere else – it's adapted from a play or a novel," he points out. The writers didn't expect the movie deal, which makes it more exciting to them, he adds. Amir does think about movie suitability when it comes to selecting his novels, but doesn't allow that to be the only arbiter of his choice. "I will publish something even if I think bookstores won't take it. We'll just have to sell it online, or at events," he says. Speaking of which, the online shop has been doing well. Being in the publishing business may not be easy, but Amir is happy to be doing this. "I wouldn't be in this if this wasn't fun," he says, smiling. Related Story: |
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