Just read – December

Tags

books, reading

The president is missing – James Patterson, Bill Clinton

As a thriller, this book is so-so. It is more interesting as a foreign policy read. Presumably in the eyes of Bill Clinton, Israel and Germany are the US’ staunchest allies, England doesn’t even get a mention. Russia is still Enemy No 1, China interestingly is not as much of a great. Saudi is the good guy even though they concocted the plan.

The grave threat is now cyber terrorism.

The president is conceived as the ideal American hero. He is distinguished by a sporting career cut short by war service.

What stood out is how the book is peopled by many women in power. Unfortunately several, if not all, of these women turn out to be tainted. Go figure.

The book ends literally with a state of the union type address in which the president sets out his vision for America. The theme – bipartisanship.

Little fires everywhere – Celeste Ng

This seems to be a novel that people either love or hate, according to good read reviews. I loved it. I read the reviews after and was surprised at the number of haters. One grouse is that Mia is doing this manic pixie mom thing, which is fair point. Another is that it’s supposed to be a character driven novel but the characters don’t stick. I dunno. The character Moody has stayed with me, I like how Tripp was out of character, how Lexie seems to be. Yes, Mrs Richardson is a bit the caricatured stepford wife, but there’s an attempt to give her motivation. The most surprising character for me was Mr Richardson, ask me why in the comments if you’ve read the book and care. My biggest problem was that for a novel written by an Asian and which puts race front and centre, the handful of Asian characters have such secondary roles. They are onlookers or literally the plot on which the white curacters do their thing.

China: a concise history

Basically a primer on modern china. It was more like bringing together a lot of the little bits of information I mostly already knew

Women and Power – Mary Beard

This is a short, very interesting read, tracing how women have been shut out of power in western civilization, going back to Greek myth and connecting it with modern politics.

Five star billionaire – Tash Aw

I first heard of this book at an academic talk when it was mentioned in conjunction with arvind adiga’s white tiger and mohsin hamids how to get filthy rich in rising Asia. This trio are dark Asian Cinderella stories, telling a gritty version of the Asian dream. White Tiger jolted me even if I didn’t love its parable-like structure. Hamid’s book struck me as largely similar. The thing that lingered with me after was which city it was based on. My guess was Mumbai.

I think i enjoyed Five Star Billionaire the most of the three though I took a while to get into it. The series of vignettes start linking up and in the end, there is a sliver of optimism that charmed me.

Sapiens – Yuval Noah Hariri

I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to read this until I did. The first part was the most engaging for me. Some parts were too cultural studies lite. I know he was trying to fair about colonialism but statements such as this middle eastern script would not had been deceiphered had it not been for the Europeans struck me as sloppy. I like that he discounted the idealization of the past and some of the doomsday predictions for the future.

2018 – a retrospective

Tags

retrospective, year end

Or the highlights that stick in the mind.

1. I started the year with the new job, that was the biggest – and best – source of change in my life. Actually, the start was rather ignominious. On my second day, I ate something that had me puking the entire night. I dragged myself to work the next day because it would be too embarrassing to call a sickie on day 3. In fact, I haven’t taken a single day of sick leave this entire year – which is some sort of record. The fact is that our deadlines are daily and our team is just about holding head above water so one person off can throw things out of whack. I do thing I should take more sick leave next year, well at least a couple, but I have been fortunate that after that one crazy episode I have not been terribly ill.

I love the job and I’m going well at it. My office is lovely, the people are fine. My honeymoon period is over – I managed to piss off my boss pushing him to approve my leave in December (when I realised like many senior journalists, his management style needs work. Nice guy who struggles with people management) and I have my very own frenemy, sadly the only other Indian in my team whose very presence triggers a stress reaction.

But overall, I’m happy where I am. This has been a good thing and after all my career angst last year, I’m grateful.

2. The PhD is well and truly over. I passed my exam – and did well enough to be urged by one of the examiners to apply for a job at her institution, which I turned down! I swotted over revisions, some warranted and some not (insert Hegel, boo!). They were approved without issue. I even attended a graduation ceremony in a cap and gown for the first time in my life and took a (very beautiful if I may say so myself) photo in a studio.

3. My marriage has calmed down. I have concluded that much of his behaviour is his own problem and that took a load off my back. It annoys me, but I don’t worry as much about what I could be doing. I could have sex with him more and solve a lot of this but I don’t feel terribly guilty anymore about not wanting to. We are far from perfect but at least we get along with less eruptions.

4. My kids continue to be awesome and my biggest joy. This is the year I lost my son a little (see here) and gained my daughter more (post on that coming up).

5. I read a lot. I’m going to start chronicling my reading in mini bites because well, some people might appreciate the recommendations and also to keep track of the sheer breath of my reading. I’ve ventured into areas I never thought I would – physics, for example. I’ve read feminist work I always wanted to but didn’t find time for during my PhD. And of course lots of fiction, literary and not. My rule is one fiction, one serious non fiction or academic work.

6. Time is what I ran out off this year. My job is full on in the week, and I feel the need to maximise time with kids on the weekends. I’m at risk of turning into V as I want to meet friends less. I even run away from colleagues wanting to have lunch together. I realise (and V had this ‘I told you so’ expression when I told him) that I get more interaction than I’m used to in office (after three years of PhD solitude) and too much people time leaves me frazzled. My idea of a holiday is to be alone.

Situational angst

Tags

bureaucrats, family, Hong Kong, language

There are some traumas that are linked to experiences that are specific places that linger long after you left them:

1. One India-related trauma that I recognised when I moved away (apart from the obvious – the trauma of being a woman) is a morbid fear of bureaucracy. In Hong Kong, despite what people say, the bureaucracy is largely efficient and not to be feared. Sure, there’s the filling up forms and submitting stuff. But even if you make a mistake, it can be corrected without going through seven circles of Kafkaesque hell. Nevertheless, when I had to submit my documentation for permanent residence, I went crazy with the paper. V told me I was an open and shut case and didn’t need to worry so much. But I did.

I do this every time I need to submit a visa application even though the chances of being rejected for a visa are quite low. It’s the fear of the runaround that could come if you have one tick out of place.

I recognised a kindred spirit in a Russian friend. If anything, he is worse. He was so paranoid to be not one toe out of line on his visa requirements. And was like, my friend, I hear you.

2. A Hong Kong related trauma is spending extended periods of time around people who are speaking a language I can’t understand. It’s one thing to not be able to understand what exactly happened in the fight that broke out on the MTR or what the TV announcer is saying, although this does cramp my eavesdropping style, but the thing that really gets me is being at a two hour or more lunch surrounded by people speaking Cantonese (the language is not important here, just that I can’t understand it) and having to smile and nod and pretend you kind of understand or don’t mind. My patience for doing this has waned so much that I rarely consent to meet more than two Cantonese speakers at one time and studiously inquire about language of presentation before any event.

I recognised my aversion to this kind of linguistic limbo when the prospect of visiting V’s relatives in Kerala. Now this a family that will make no effort to converse in anything but Malayalam although the younger generation does speak English. Something about being made fun of if you stick your neck out and speak English. Or maybe they just think it’s too much trouble in the way Hongkongers (and possibly English speakers do). The point is – I don’t want to volunteer to be the resident Ms Blank.

I have literally avoided visiting Kerala for this reason (and the fact that I suck at performing conventional Indian femininity and will stick out like a sore thumb if I hang out with men while unable to say a thing to them). In the end, I have capitulated under the condition that we stay in a hotel and not someone’s house (to limit the time I have to spend playing Noddy) thereby branding myself the bitch in law.

I also realised the language issue is what I dread about moving to Bangalore. Sure, in my social circles, English will be the lingua Franca which is a step above Hong Kong, but for the man on the street it’s Kannada so basically Hong Kong redux. In the process, I’ve discovered a secret pleasure – that of being in a place where everyone speaks English.

The entertainer

Tags

parenting

So every December we go to India. But before that we have the kids’ birthdays. Technically Mimi’s birthday is in Jan. But I can’t imagine doing a party when I’m in India recovery.

Actually I can’t imagine doing a party at all, and in eight years I’ve done … two (I thought it was three, but I think this is actually the second).

I’m not a bad mother. But I’m fairly lazy and a product of my own experience. No I’m not one of those who didn’t have a party growing up. I had one, every year (thank you mum). Looking back, I realised I didn’t actually enjoy most of those. I twigged this looking at the stressed of expression on my face in photographs and then recognizing that same expression on Nene’s face at his first party. In fact, the kids haven’t shown much interest in a party, preferring the idea of Disneyland or a special treat with family instead.

This year, however, both said they wanted to celebrate with friends. Nene wanted to go go-karting but I was ambivalent. While Nene is adept at those things, I’m not sure every kid would be and I would horrified if there were an accident.

So I started trying to dissuade Nene from that idea because his bestie was the one I was most concerned about. Then Mimi said she wanted her own party with a balloon twister and an entertainer.

The thing is – one party is bad enough, but two?

Okay, here’s when I started to become Bad Mother. Not only did I convince Nene not to have a karting party, but Mimi to combine her party with Nene. The latter was harder than the former because Nene is my cooperative kid, and Mimi is not.

And then I morphed into Libran mom because no sooner had they agreed than I started feeling guilty. I started secretly looking into the go-karting party, talked to bestie’s mum and figured I could do it. Only when I went back to Nene with a yes, he said he didn’t want to have a karting party but a normal one. Ouff.

Luckily I had started this process a couple of months in advance – too early to book the room even. But I realise that’s what I need – enough time to agonise.

In fact, this time it was easier than my past attempts.

I had the entertainer down pat – Mini wanted a clown/magician and I knew where to get one that didn’t cost the earth.

Food was basically going to be pizza and chips, with a few things made at home. I did stress about sourcing fried rice for the Asian palate, but I basically delegated that to V.

I figured out giveaways and stuck to them.

I organised three games despite V’s exhortation that I should just leave those kids alone, Pink Floyd style. But no, every party I have seen that does not have some organised entertainment ends up in kids beating each other with balloons. Okay, so I did have a clown.

Anyway, in the end, the first two games were successful – the last, a treasure hunt descended into chaos. But later Nene said he would rather have games than not and one kid even asked if we could repeat the first game, so I feel vindicated.

The thing that nearly did me in – mentally – was the cake. So I do have a friend who makes gorgeous looking cakes, but V is not a fan of their taste. And these fondant confections are expensive. So he convinced me to just order from the local bakeries where at least if you compromise on look and taste, you are paying accordingly. And our observation is that kids don’t care very much about taste. I however felt totally guilty about not letting my kids have the exact shape of cake their heart desired.

V said he could not bring himself to feel sorry for kids who were having a rather expensive party with a hired entertainer.

I do see his point. In the end, Mimi had a unicorn cake that tasted better than expected and Nene had a poop emoji cake that everyone wanted a slice of. These were small so we supplemented with a large tiramisu that was not amazing.

All in all, it was a successful party. The room wasn’t overly packed as I had feared. The kids were largely entertained. I was not as hyper stressed as I could have been. I even wore a rather pretty white dress and didn’t get one stain on it.