Irene Q

Words have a strange power. Take the word "surgery", for example. This week, I discovered that it's a word that strikes fear and concern into the heart of many. And conjures up certain images as well as ideas.

I was scheduled to undergo minor surgery, an outpatient procedure to remove a lump from a place where lumps had no business to be. When I told my friends, all of them reacted with shock, concern and a great deal of worry on my behalf. I felt like a fraud. Mine wasn't a severe condition or a life-threatening matter -- I wasn't even going to be spending a night in the hospital!

My best guess is that "surgery" is associated with grave and somber procedures such as "heart bypass". But the Compact Oxford English Dictionary merely defines surgery as "the branch of medicine concerned with treatment of bodily injuries or disorders by incision or manipulation".

Which I tried to explain to my friends. "It's minor surgery," I said, emphasising the word minor. "The surgeon is just going to cut that part open, take the lump out, and sew me back up. No big deal!"

"These doctors, they always tell you it's minor. Everything is minor to them!" was the reply. I grinned to myself; likely this friend had forgotten that my father is a medical practitioner!

I suppose my background (with my doctor dad) had denuded the word surgery of its 'stigma' in my sight. On the day of the operation, several people asked if I was worried or nervous and I said no, what is there to be worried about? I'm sure I got many strange looks, and even stranger ones when, the next day, I declared I wanted to go out and about.

"You should stay home and rest!" a friend insisted. "You just had surgery!"

"Good grief, I had minor surgery to take out a lump. All the rest of me is okay apart from the part where the surgeon made his incision. I can still walk and everything!" I replied.

My friend's mind was boggled. Not needing to recuperate after surgery? How can this be?

I'd never realised that this word carries so many heavy associations for others. To me, it merely describes a medical procedure; it's the type of surgery that lends weight to the word. That's why I increasingly feel that it's very important to be careful of the words I use, in order that I should convey my intended meaning to others. Sometimes it's not that we use the wrong words; it's that the hearer or reader interprets them differently from the exact dictionary meaning. T'was a good reminder, this.

Was scheduled for a medical check-up yesterday and intended to bring a book along with me, only I forgot to grab said book in the mad dash out of the house in the morning. I was dismayed... I don't like waiting, and the only way waiting can be made palatable is if I have a book to read. Otherwise I fidget, send text messages on my phone, watch other people around me, or daydream.

However, I was elated to discover that I had a book in my car. Plus, it was one which I'd planned to read but hadn't yet gotten down to reading (something that can be said of 80% of my books!). I snatched it from the back seat of my car and walked into the clinic.

As it turns out, I had ample time to savour the book, since I spent four hours at the clinic. Unfortunately, I soon realised that the book was making the waiting more difficult, rather than helping me to while the time away!

What's really sad is that Don't Sit On This Book: A Collection of Chinese Taboos ought to be an interesting read. I'm Chinese, but my family has never practiced many of the old Chinese traditions and superstitions, so I thought this book might fill in the blanks for me. Give me a better understanding of Chinese culture. Show me where I'm from. And provide me with interesting bits of trivia.

Too bad the trivia and interesting information got lost and buried in the writing style.

Take the opening paragraphs, for example. Almost every description of a taboo, superstition, or belief starts out with a general statement; a discussion of Chinese New Year beliefs and traditions opens with the paragraph,

Even in the age of e-commerce and space travel, the Chinese community has retained their penchant for celebrations and merry-making. (page 188)

General opening statements such as this are boring and unhelpful. They don't give the reader any idea of what's coming next, or what the essay is about; they don't draw the reader in and make him want to find out more; they don't tell the reader anything he doesn't already know. It's a lousy way to begin an essay.

Let's say the reader decides to brave the uninspiring opening paragraph in the hope that the best is yet to come. He'll then discover that the writer seems to have some sort of aversion to paragraphs that are more than three sentences long. I'm not kidding -- the paragraphs in this book are so short that they sound like bullets, which in turn causes the style of writing to be choppy and difficult to read, never mind enjoy. Let's go back to the Chinese New Year essay:

After the elaborate reunion dinner, the elders must present the younger generation with money-filled red packets or 'ang-pows'. Children and youngsters will be happy to receive the red packets.

However, the money is not to be used. It is for depositing into the piggy bank. The reason is, it is a taboo to have an empty piggy bank on the eve of the Chinese New Year.

After putting the money in, one should also stick a piece of red paper with the Chinese characters 'always full' on it. This way, you may be blessed with a constant supply of spending money throughout the coming year. (page 189)

Facts, facts, facts. Dry facts. It sounds like a newspaper report. The same short paragraphs with bullet-like bite-sized information. No narrative, no story, no elaboration. No flow.

The lack of flow is exacerbated by the inappropriate use of tenses and lack of adequate description or explanation. "Children and youngsters will be happy to receive the red packets"? Of course they'd be happy! Which child doesn't enjoy receiving gifts? Instead of wasting space with that completely irrelevant remark, the writer could have inserted a short explanation of the history of ang pows, like how they came to be given out in the first place and why the money is always packaged in red envelopes. Why not yellow envelopes? Or blue? Or orange? It would also have been helpful to note that only married people are expected to give ang pow; singles (no matter what age they might be) are exempt. Again, I'd love to know why this is. I'm probably going to have to google it.

I would've liked more stories about ancient China, how certain practices originated and evolved, why they are still considered important today. Don't just give me a statement like, "It is a taboo to bathe, shower or wash your hair on the first day of the Chinese New Year." I know that. What I want to know is why it is a taboo! The lack of explanation makes me think that the writer did not research the topic thoroughly; if one aims to give others a better understanding of Chinese culture (as is stated in the book's Preface), then explanations -- not just dry facts -- are necessary. Facts are well and good but a lone fact seldom helps anyone to understand anything.

In some places, the taboos are not even presented as fact; they are put forward in such a way as to sound like instructions or commands:

Never go empty-handed when visiting. Fresh bouquets and health food and beverages are appropriate get-well presents. Fruit are also popular gifts. However, please remember not to offer pears as get-well presents. Pears are not appropriate according to Chinese customs. (page 115)

I found this terribly off-putting. If you're describing a custom, you should say so. How hard is it to write, "The Chinese believe that it is rude to go empty-handed when visiting a friend"? But nooooo, instead it sounds as if the writer is trying to give orders to his readers. Eek.

All in all, it was a sadly disappointing book. There are lots of non-fiction books out there which succeed in being both informative and entertaining; unfortunately, this wasn't one of them.

 

 
I laughed so hard when I watched this -- Harlan Ellison is very funny. But it's true enough that writers are often not treated as professionals in their own right, and I've also heard many a writer complain that they are underpaid.

Who's to blame? While amateur writers may, as Malaysians say, "spoil the market", they also have less leverage. An established writer like Ellison can tell Warner Bros to go jump in the lake because he's well-known enough that Warner Bros might actually turn around and try to negotiate in order to gain the rights to his work; and if not, somebody else who is willing to pay an appropriate fee will likely eventually come along.

But a little-known writer is bound to be excited when approached by such a company as Warner Bros, and he knows -- or at least, he thinks -- that if he doesn't grab this opportunity, another company of this stature might not come along for a long, looooong time. Put it down to a lack of faith in himself, a desire for a 'shortcut' to get his name out there quickly, or perhaps just a very human tendency to grab whatever you can for fear you may never get a better deal (a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, remember?). He may know he is being shortchanged, but he may choose to discount that due to the other factors mentioned above, and console himself with the thought that at least this will look impressive on his portfolio or resumé.

I once attended an interview at a publishing company where I was informed that the editorial staff frequently stay overnight in order to meet tight deadlines, and "Do you have any problem with that kind of schedule?" Then I discovered that they were not willing to pay above RM2,500. Leaving aside my four years of writing experience, the fact that the job would require such long hours -- even weekends might need to be sacrificed, I was told -- caused me to feel that the remuneration offered was inadequate.

But such things are so subjective; what I consider inadequate, another job applicant might consider acceptable, or even fair. Isn't this what a market-driven economy is all about?

"That time of the semester" doesn't have quite the same ring as "that time of the year" or "that time of the month". But it is that time of the semester... when provisional results are released.

My classmate kindly asked for my student number and offered to help me keep a lookout, but when she told me what I'd scored, I decided I had to see for myself. Just like how, in my undergraduate days, I called my college THREE TIMES to verify my final year results. In case, y'know, the person reading the results to me over the phone had accidentally read those of the candidate listed above or below me. It isn't wildly beyond the realm of possibility, after all!

So I traipsed over to the university today during my lunch break. Lo and behold, my classmate's eyes had not deceived her!

Research Methodology: A-
Critical Discourse Analysis: A

*blinks*  I distinctly remember walking out of the exam hall after the Research Methodology paper and telling friends, "I'll probably pass, but most likely won't score."

So much for predictions! *super silly grin*

I grew up reading Reader's Digest. When I got my hands on the latest issue, I'd always flip to the funnies first -- Laughter, the Best Medicine, Life's Like That, All in a Day's Work, and Humor in Uniform. Much like how, when presented with a newspaper, I always flip to the comics first. I just like things that make me laugh, y'know?

The cool thing about the Reader's Digest was -- and still is -- all the little anecdotes scattered through it. After reading the funnies, I'd flip through page by page, looking for the other funnies. Then I'd read Quotable Quotes and Points to Ponder. After that I'd go through the articles, winding things up with Drama in Real Life just before finishing with the longest one, the Book Section.

I normally do have a system, even if I look like I don't!

Today's Reader's Digest somehow just isn't the same. It's not as funny or as heartwarming and insightful as before; it's also thinner, and seems to have less content. When I was in my mid-teens, my parents stopped subscribing to it for that very reason, and Dad began subscribing to National Geographic instead. I didn't always read the National Geographic articles, but I was fascinated by their gorgeous pictures.

There are very few things from your childhood that you can go back to and find still as captivating as before, but the Reader's Digest seems to be one of them. I'm re-reading some of the old issues and laughing just as much at the jokes as I used to. Luckily I don't have a very good memory, so I don't have that "I think I've heard that joke before" feeling to spoil my fun!

 

      Two children were bragging about their intelligence. "When I was eight months old, I could walk," said one. 
      "You call that intelligent?" responded the second child. "When I was that old, I let them carry me."
--Laughter, the Best Medicine, Reader's Digest (September 1994)

There's something about reading a written work aloud that strips it of all pretense and lays it bare. I remember my mom wresting a romance novel from my hands when I was 15. She declaimed it as "trash" and, flipping through its pages, proceeded to read certain passages aloud to me in a most disparaging voice.

Somehow, words that had danced and sung on the page seemed tawdry and clumsy when read out loud. For that reason, I've never tried to read a romance novel out loud. Ever. They've never been about good writing anyway, only fairy-tale worlds. Why tarnish the illusion?

Other works can't get away with the same excuse, however. The best pieces ought to be able to weave a spell and still be well-written. And good writing is good writing, no matter what the medium -- print or audio.

Having attended the 'Readings' at Seksan's on Saturday (an event where writers -- both published and unpublished -- read their works to an audience), I think I finally understand why all the writing advice I've heard keeps telling me to use adjectives sparingly. Too many adjectives clutter the piece and lose me when I'm listening. They're okay on the page, because then the reader has the chance to read at his own pace, absorb the image that is being painted, go back and re-read the description to let it sink in. But when something is being read aloud, at some point a bunch of adjectives get to be too much information.

I remarked to Erna that pieces with action or dialogue are probably more suitable for reading aloud to an audience, but she disagreed with me. Maybe it's just the person I am -- I don't have a high attention span when listening to somebody read or lecture, but I'm always captured by flashes of insight, emotion, humour, whimsy, movement, rhythm and rhyme.

 

 
If my dad were here, he might have placed that ad in front of me and said, "Hey, Miss Journalist! Tell me what is wrong with this ad!"

He used to do that all the time with random sentences in newspaper articles. He's sharp, is my dad. Can't pull the wool over his eyes, no sirree.

Do you see what I see? If I were to be kind, I'd say this company is trying to hedge its bets and cast its net as widely as possible to catch all possible candidates. However, if I were to be unkind, I'd say this company has no idea what it wants.

Is it looking for experienced people, or is it looking for fresh graduates? Your guess is as good as mine. I suppose this proves that they truly do need an editor, not least because "editing skill" should be in the plural!