The Malaysian Insider

NOV 1 — How do you find new books to read? Do you just go by who the “hottest” author is right now or do you just browse the bookstores and see what jumps out at you? Or maybe you just go by the recommendations of friends?

I have done all of the above and can only say that there is no sure-fire formula for finding the next great book to read. It’s a bit of a hit and miss, and I suppose that is the fun of reading.

OCT 25 — I look at my bookshelves now and see books there I would never have read — much less even bought — when I was younger. I was simply less adventurous in my reading then.

I also did not read much non-fiction at the time. When I started work though, I read quite a few books on journalism but found that the doing — the actual slogging and sweating of the days — was a much better teacher.

I had yet to discover memoirs and so did not get inspired by all the great journalists that had gone before me. Instead, my mentors were the older journalists who shared the same newsroom with me.

OCT 18 – Most people probably have this idea that bookworms are generally a nerdy and quiet bunch. After all, how noisy or boisterous an activity can reading be?

While it is true that reading is best enjoyed in solitude and in a relatively serene environment, the buying of books can be quite the opposite. Last week, my colleague asked me if I had been to the Penguin warehouse sale.

I replied, “I’m not allowed.”

OCT 11 – Did you read Agatha Christie crime stories growing up? Raised on a diet of Enid Blyton adventures and mysteries courtesy of the Secret Seven and Famous Five (I preferred the Secret Seven), the Agatha Christie books were the perfect bridge for me.

Have no idea what I am on about? What I mean is they were perfect for someone too old for Enid Blyton and too young for some hardboiled crime writer like ... Dashiell Hammett.

So, Agatha Christie’s wonderful books were the perfect bridge. I read so many of them then but I can hardly remember any of the plots now.

However, I remember clearly the amateur detective Miss Jane Marple and the clever Belgian detective Hercule Poirot. Of the two, I love Poirot more and he appeared in 33 Christie novels while the spinster detective Miss Marple had 12 novels devoted to her adventures.

All the crime mysteries were not too complicated or gory and I was not as frightened as when I read Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes stories.

I didn’t know it then but you know what, the stories were just a tad cheesy and melodramatic. Even the book titles – “The Murder on the Orient Express”, “The Mysterious Affair at Styles” and “The Murder at the Vicarage” – felt ever so slightly over the top.

The funny thing is for all the Enid Blyton mysteries and Agatha Christie crime stories I devoured, I did not grow up to become a fan of crime fiction. There was a minor flirtation when I was waiting to go to varsity with writers like Ross Macdonald and Raymond Chandler but it didn’t go far.

Years later, a guy I was dating tried to get me to read John Le Carre. He bought me all of Le Carre’s books and I was smitten with the gesture but not with the books. So crime fiction and spy novels? Not my thing.

Then, something unexpected happened. A colleague at work lent me her copy of Carl Hiaasen’s “Tourist Season” and you know, just looking at the book – its cover is typically garish and loud which is what the genre absolutely demands – you knew it was not my kind of thing. But I liked her and did not want to seem like a snob so I read it.

And just like that, I got hooked. Hiaasen’s fabulous story which I can only describe as crime meets high comedy converted me to the genre. Since then, I have read all of his books and while some work better than others, I have mostly been amused and entertained. Highly.

It is because of him that I have gone on to read Elmore Leonard and most recently David Simon and George Pelecanos. All very pithy, graphic and their writing muscular and engaging.

But the biggest surprise for me has been a crime novel written by someone a little closer to home. Shamini Flint’s “Inspector Singh Investigates: A Most Peculiar Malaysian Murder.”

Born in Malaysia, she now lives in Singapore with her husband and two children. The cover with Inspector Singh seen in silhouette against the distinctive Kuala Lumpur skyline is absolutely spot on. I knew the book had to be fun even if the crime was serious.

What is more, Inspector Singh is Singaporean. Deftly told, the story of a beautiful socialite accused of her husband’s murder weaves in so many things I was amazed Flint managed to cramp everything into this slim book.

There are references to the longstanding rivalry between Singapore and Malaysia; the sticky issue of Syariah vs civil law; illegal logging; the Penans; the Malaysian police force... did I forget anything?

Most of all, we get to know the overweight and maverick police officer. He is always sweating, always thinking and always wondering when his bosses will kick him off the police force.

Flint even gave him a little sartorial quirk. I won’t spoil it for you. Read the book. The story is not too complicated and in that, it reminds me of the best Agatha Christie stories.

But the absolutely wonderful thing is, it is set in our own backyard. Not an American inner city or a quaint English village.

The next book in the series – “Inspector Singh Investigates: A Bali Conspiracy Most Foul” is already out and I can’t wait to read what the fat man is up to next.

To find out more about Flint, go to http://goodbooksguide.blogspot.com/2008/06/on-couch-shamini-flint.html.

Eric Forbes, who has the best book blog ever, chats with her and you can find out what she reads, why she writes, etc.

OCT 4 — I don’t know about you but I get a thrill when I read a book and come across a reference to Malaysia or anything Malaysian. Even if it is passing remark and does not have anything with the main story.

Latest example: “You Or Someone Like You” by Chandler Burr. On page 20, there is a mention of Malaysia. Or to be more exact, Kuala Lumpur. The book’s protagonist grew up in boarding schools all over the world because of her diplomat father: “My parents, I said, would be transferred to Jakarta, myself to a British boarding school in Kuala Lumpur.”

It’s a small thing but it makes me feel proud when I come across my country so unexpectedly. Could it be because so often when we travel, we come across people who have no idea where Kuala Lumpur is? Sure, we are more famous now but you must admit it irritates when someone looks at you blankly when you say, “Malaysia.” Anyway, I just read two books set in Malaysia which were not written by Malaysians.