The Star Online: Lifestyle: Bookshelf
The Star Online: Lifestyle: Bookshelf |
| Posted: 04 Dec 2011 02:27 AM PST When Asian mores clash with Western society, tragedy occurs. Killing Honour A YOUNG woman with a potentially bright future succumbs to an arranged marriage to a man from the same clan to honour her family's wishes only to be trapped in an abusive union. Woman turns to family for support but is shunned because she is now the husband's property. By then, it is all too late and her fate is a sealed tragedy. Sounds like an overworked plot? But here's the thing. It isn't the plot in Bali Rai's Killing Honour although it is the backbone to the story. What makes the British author's new book different is that Rai has cleverly approached the common plot from a fresh angle, making it dynamically interesting. I read Killing Honour in one sitting, with minimal toilet and texting breaks. Then I went to bed only to experience parts of the scenes from the chapters being re-enacted in a series of disturbing dreams. It was pretty haunting, not in a nightmarish way but in way that prompted a sad realisation that some outdated cultural practices are still being honoured in these modern times, and in doing so, sometimes killing honour itself. Ironic but true. The story centres on a young Punjabi Sikh named Sat who is determined to find his married sister who vanished under suspicious circumstances. Although the in-laws, the Atwals, claim that she has eloped with her Muslim lover, Sat crosses boundaries to discover the truth despite hurdles thrown up from his own family, who believe that their daughter is a disgrace. With conservative values woven through modern mores set against a background of sex, drugs and brutality, Sat's story begins in Leicester, England, and he narrates it in 28 chapters. Adding to the stark narration are independent, supporting texts randomly interspersed between the chapters. I love Rai's writing style: easy and fuss free without any serious dips into frilly emotional jamborees given the nature and density of the book's subject. The clean and clinical style makes reading the book much like watching an episode of TV's Criminal Minds. I felt that Rai's portrayal of his community's sentiments is spot on, recognising them from when a Punjabi friend of mine became somewhat of an outcast for taking a non-Punjabi husband. Many Punjabi friends have told me that they'd only marry a Sikh because it is their community's natural expectation of them. "Race and religion doesn't matter to me but I'd still marry a Punjabi Sikh. If I don't do that, my mother would be very, very upset. It won't be the same again, " a male friend said recently. Another friend, a British Punjabi, was married off to a girl who was hand-picked by his grandmother from India. The pair was happy for a while, but after a couple of years when her residency came through, she divorced him, almost stripping him off all he owned. Having said that, when you pick up this book, read it with an open mind. Those with no concept of certain long-held beliefs among Asians may find the key issue in the book totally intolerable in today's world. While arranged marriages and the spirit of keeping the "herd" close among some cultures may be viewed with anything ranging from disbelief to disgust, it probably does work for some people. Full content generated by Get Full RSS. |
| Posted: 04 Dec 2011 02:24 AM PST Kill Alex Cross Author: James Patterson Publisher: Little, Brown and Company, 464 pages JAMES Patterson is by far my favourite suspense-thriller author. What I – and many of his fans, I'm sure – like about his books are the signature short chapters. I love the way he crafts the suspense of the plot and how it builds up as you make your way through the book. As you start off Kill Alex Cross, the drama begins with the kidnapping of the US President's two teenaged children. Former FBI agent and Washington DC Metropolitan Police Department detective Alex Cross is the first one on the case, much to the chagrin of a shady figure with nefarious intentions and enough power to use the FBI, CIA and even the Secret Service against Alex. Patterson cleverly drives the story forward with chapters written from the kidnapper's point of view – and what a sinister voice he has created, one that positively drips with disdain. If you have read Along Came A Spider and Kiss The Girls, you can expect the same chills from Kill Alex Cross. And even if you haven't read a single one of the Alex Cross books, worry not, as this will satisfy your need for a thrill. The kidnapping isn't the only problem in Washington DC: Terror attacks threaten America's capital with the arrival from Saudi Arabia of a couple set to bring chaos to the city. Elements of jihadism are weaved into the plot, as the couple follows orders and plan attacks. How does this storyline connect with the kidnapping? Patterson cleverly keeps us guessing for a while. And while Alex has his hands full with both cases, a deadly contagion spreads through the city's water system, unleashing another major disaster. Patterson's words graphically evoke the stress and adrenaline-filled emotions that Alex experiences as he struggles to pull victory from all this chaos. Kill Alex Cross is definitely a page-turner, with not only the main event of the kidnapping but also the sub-plots keeping you on the edge of your seat guessing at the connections between characters. However, I felt a bit deflated towards the end as the story unfolded to reveal the villain. It didn't have the same wow factor as other books in the series, such as I, Alex Cross and Crossfire, for example. Kill Alex Cross also offers more revelations of Alex's private life and the warm relationship he has with his family, especially his children. He is settled now and his grandmother, the redoubtable Nana Mama, is still around to put Alex in his place if need be, which always elicits chuckles. If you are a fan of Patterson's Alex Cross books, make space on your shelf for this one. And if you're new to his work, well, let me share some facts about Patterson that might persuade you to pick up this book: According to Bookscan, Patterson was the bestselling author of the past year bar none, with more than 16 million books sold in North America alone. And in the past three years, Patterson has sold more books than any other author, and in total, his books have sold an estimated 220 million copies worldwide. To date, Patterson has had 19 consecutive No.1 New York Times bestselling novels, and holds the paper's record for most hardcover fiction bestselling titles by a single author (63), which is also a Guinness World Record. Phew. I'd want this one on my bookshelf just for the bragging rights! Full content generated by Get Full RSS. |
| Posted: 04 Dec 2011 02:23 AM PST A grandson attempts to read a book that Grandma had read, wanting to discover her soul within its pages. MY son wouldn't stop. He cried interminably, tears seeping out from behind the hands that covered his swollen eyes. Grandma had left. After two weeks of happy times, she had flown away, leaving behind a few strands of grey hair on a pillow and the warmth of her smile in our minds. My son is learning the truth about being an immigrant. Like most immigrants, we have only ourselves – the four of us on our big adventure Down Under. That had always sufficed until Grandma came. Her lullabies replaced mummy's bedtime stories. She sang and my two children carolled along, giggling and falling into beds stuffed with soft toys from Grandma. Her lilting voice was much more enjoyable than the theatrical pitch I used in dramatising stories. She sang with love, as if the chance to love would slip away if unhurried, whereas I read as if reading was the last chore of the day – soon to be over with if not to be done away with. I stood outside the bedroom and watched silently, my heart swelling with delight. The thrills continued unabated. Grandma roasted a more savoury chicken; even her Ribena was more chilled and sweet. I sniggered at the jealousy slowly emerging, taming it before it began to truly stir. Because, henceforth, I too, was in the comfort zone. Grandma cleaned as I read. She planted the flowers I had bought. Needs were fulfilled before I even got to know of them. With her my children played while I wrote. At night, as I passed their room, she snored as did the kids. They snored in unison, like in a symphony – one waited for the other and when merged, their beats were congenial and their dynamics, harmonious. With free time in hand, I went about my work, reading faster than ever. The race toward the last page was enjoyable, for it was no longer patchy. It was an uninterrupted sprint from the beginning, as I panted throughout, only to fall onto my back into slumber to dream of more. Books owned me and stories occupied my mind completely. The joy of reading was at its height and I once again became an authors' confidant, listening to their crooning and waiting for their stories to unfold. That two-week period of leisure was granted silently, understandingly, and selflessly by Grandma. Her stay was a window of opportunity that is rare indeed, because rarely, as in the case of most other immigrants, had I had a chance to read to my heart's content, obsessively and guilt-free. Haruki Murakami's 900-page 1Q84 was read in three days, just in time for me to write a review of it and to start another marathon with Daniel Yergin's (also 900+page) The Quest. But I was not the only one reading. Grandma read, too. As she guffawed at Chinese writer Yu Hua's hilarity in Brothers, my children were awed by the book-loving Grandma. We love to read, my four-year-old daughter exclaimed. Yes, we do, I answer. Still, she had to leave. No memories could replace the joy that filled my son's heart when Grandma was around. When night fell, he wailed for Grandma. Her love, unconditional and selfless, had touched his heart. Brothers remains on his bedside table as if keeping it there will stop the image of Grandma from fading away. At least I still have her book and I hope to read it someday, he murmurs, tracing Grandma's invisible finger prints. Life has returned to normal, as has my reading. I managed to read only five pages of The Quest yesterday. The race is still on but at a much slower pace and in a more hurried mood. As my children had been loved in Grandma's own unique way, I had been pampered. It is utter absurdity. Grandma became my reading aid and an inspirational book lover to my children. My son won't stop. He slogs through the first chapter of Brothers and keeps going. Through it, he hopes to understand how Grandma truly felt while she was reading. He wants to understand not just her book but also to catch a glimpse of her soul. n Abby Wong thanks her mother-in-law for granting her two weeks of uninterrupted reading pleasure. Full content generated by Get Full RSS. |
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