Let's Talk About Mysore

"A day without sunshine is like, you know, night."

Steve Martin

As you are reading this, I am currently basking in the sun on Tioman Island (or burning, if I have forgotten to slather some sun lotion on). As soon as blogger introduced the scheduled posting feature, I have always wanted to try it out. It's freaky, huh? It's like there's two of me now; one talking to you here and the other me is holidaying on some tropical island out on the South China Sea. And the 'me' writing to you right now was me in the past - well, the past for you that is, but as I'm writing this it is still very much present, and I am still in Malacca and have not yet set out for Tioman yet. Trippy...

Remember my last travelogue about Bangalore? Remember that ghastly experience Phoebs and I went through at the bus station? I seemed to have neglected to mention that one of the straps of my backpack snapped while I was walking under the heavy rain looking for the bus to Mysore. If you've ever backpacked, you'd realise how much trouble that amounted to. It happened at the worst time possible and basically, any time a backpack's heavy enough to snap one of its straps, it's always the worst time possible.

We did make it to Mysore finally and checked into Hotel Dasaprakash at about 3:00 am. Here's Phoebe at 8:00 am the morning after,

It wasn't because it was cold. It's to shut out my irritating blather about her missing the day.

I'm not that big a fan of sleeping when I'm on vacation, usually. Besides, I needed to hunt down a cobbler to get my backpack fixed and to get a pair of slippers to wear while waiting for my Timberlands to dry out. After I got back at a more amicable time (to a still sleeping Phoebe), I practically rolled her out of bed to bathe before the entire day flew by.

We did managed some decent sightseeing on that first day,

The 1927 Silver Jubilee Clock Tower.


The Mysore Palace.


The Mysore Palace closer-up.


Phoebe, violating the Maharaja's decree about touching his majesty's tigers.


Don't enter the rose garden? Mole-hill garden more like.

The inside of the palace is tastefully (or what counted as tasteful in the past century anyway) decorated with a kaleidoscope of stained glass, family portraits, mosaic floors, massive chandeliers, ornately carved wooden doors and a whole lot of other things which belong in a museum somewhere. Amidst its gaudiness and age-mellowed painful mixtures of colours, I have to admit that it's all pretty impressive. Phoebs and I actually spent a quarter of an hour sitting on some prettily tiled steps in one of the palace's great halls reading - y'know, just to know what its like reading novels in a palace (doesn't everyone?).

Anyway, the reason I'm describing the interior instead of showing you pictures of it is because - I wasn't allowed to bring my camera inside. I don't know why's that but I suspect they are just afraid that the rest of the world would find out just how bad their taste in home furnishing is.

Then we hit the Devaraja Market,

Those colourful piles of something are kumkum. Remember those bindi dots you sometime see on married Indian women? These are the stuff they use.


I don't know about you but I find the sight of vegetables to be quite pleasant.


... and there's a lot of that here.


Yellow!!!

Later, after dinner, we took a stroll back to the palace (the city is pretty compact) to see if they, by some fluke, turned on their famous 96,000 light bulbs that day. As a rule, they only do that on Sundays from 8:00 to 9:00 pm and during the festival of Dusshera, but you never know right?

No such luck, however,

But it's still pretty darn bright.

On our walk back to our hotel, we saw this doll or mannequin standing outside a children's apparel store which came straight out of the Uncanny Valley,

Photobucket
Stare deeply into her eye and you can see Satan masturbating to child porn.

The next day, we caught a public bus to Chamundi Hill, which overlooks the city of Mysore, and visited the Sri Chamundeswari Temple,

Big 7-storey, 40 metre high gopuram.

Well, devotees are suppose to brave the 1000-something steps up but lucky for me, I didn't feel particularly religious that day so I only took the stairs down. It's a seriously sweet picnic of a walk if you like hill-views and shrubberies and all that but if you're the sort of person who uses the elevator when it's more than two-storeys high, I urge you not to try this because you're a wimp,

This is how to get sore feet in Mysore. Sorry, couldn't resist.

Stairs: defeating wimps since the 12th century.

Nice wildflowers growing beside the stairs. They are invisible to wimps.

About one third of the way down, you'll see this,

That's a lot of bull.

It's a 5 metre high Nandi (or in simple Westron, Shiva's ride) carved out of a single solid rock in 1659. Is it just me or the ancients really have a lot of time on their hands? Maybe it's just that they didn't have television and the internet back then.

Just a bit of a warning here though; if you aren't that big of a fan of Shiva or Hinduism, you might want to avoid taking a garland of flowers from a guy standing just outside the fence who looks as if he's giving them out for free and going near the bull to pay whatever token respect you feel you need to pay to it. That's because the flower garland guy charges like crazy for them and the priest dude (in the picture) always insists you leave a bit of cash at the bull's feet after you walk around it. And of course, you being the foreign sap you are, can't risk offending the locals by not abiding by their customs.

After Phoebs and I were gently extorted by the tag team, another group of tourists (locals, by the look of them) stopped by. They, however, had the smarts to completely ignore the flower garland guy and after praying to the Nandi, didn't even leave a single rupee.

It's all pretty funny on retrospect.

A millipede I spotted on the rest of the way down sporting racing stripes! Now I've seen everything.

After our little hill excursion, I finally brought Phoebs to the Mysore Zoo, which was by far the most exciting experience we both had in Mysore - especially for Phoebs. She's so much like a child that I sometime wonder if I'm something of a covert paedophile for dating her. In fact, I read some really interesting articles on paedophilia recently and I might put my thoughts about it in a post soon.

Oh, and about the zoo, I'll show you some pretty neat photographs I took there in the next travelogue. One of them is a riot, I tell you. Phoebs laughs everytime she sees it.



P.S. Phoebs, remind me to borrow your copy of Lolita the next time I see you.

P.P.S. It's a pity we didn't have time to see St Philomena's Cathedral. Pictures of it look seriously awesome.

P.P.P.S. I gotta stop going on new vacations before I even finish writing about my old ones.A casual reader might assume that I'm perpetually on holiday or something.



Currently in Tioman,
k0k s3n w4i

We, the People of Malaysia

"Give to every human being every right that you claim for yourself."

Robert Ingersoll

There is fear out on the streets now. The headlines we now see are preludes to something monstrous awaiting to launch this country into the worst times of her history. An animal is most dangerous when it has been pushed into a corner and is forced to fight for its survival. It is then foolish to continue pushing it in such unsubtle and direct fashion - and more so when that animal is a big one and has a large gun it isn't afraid to point at its tormentors.

The Internal Security Act (ISA) is that gun. For those who are a little sketchy about what it really is, I'll explain; it is a preventive detention law in force in Malaysia and it allows the arrest and detention of any person without the need for trial for a maximum period of 2 years, which can be renewed indefinitely. That's a whole lot of raw power, politic-wise. Having it in the hands of a person, or a fraternity of people from the same party who have an understandable personal agenda of staying in power, it's pretty much the Hand of God. Just dial a number and it reaches down and smite whosoever that stands in the wielder's way. We have witnessed its use in the past under the flimsiest of pretexts but of late, it seemed to have abandoned the need of pretexts even and is used under whatever crime the accuser wants the victim to be guilty of.

Raja Petra Kamaruddin, founder and editor of the popular Malaysian news blog, Malaysia Today, was detained for the second time under the ISA on the 12th of September 2008 (yesterday, yes), for allegedly insulting Islam and the prophet Muhammad - whether RPK, who is Muslim himself and has a sizable Muslim readership, really did do what was accused of him or that involving the faith is just a convenient way of calling the automatic outrage of Malaysia's Muslim population onto RPK's head and ensuring that people don't ask awkward questions like "Evidence?" (thus discouranging a deeper look into the validity of the arrest), is a matter up for debate.

On the same day, Tan Hoon Cheng, the journalist from Sin Chew Jit Poh who had reported on the Ahmad Ismail inflammatory speech in which he labelled the Chinese population of Malaysia as squatters (and therefore, not entitled to rights), was also arrested under the ISA for, from what I can garner, absolutely no reason at all. What elevated this arrest to the zenith of ridiculousness is the fact that Datuk Ahmad Ismail, the then-chief of the Bukit Bendera division of UMNO who made that remark, who refused to apologise for it despite urgings from the Prime Minister and the Deputy, who called a press conference demanding an apology for being asked to apologise, who likened the Chinese to American Jews, who threatened to shoot the reporter who reported his speech, who then, in the same press conference, tore down the picture of his state leader and proceeded to smash it to pieces, only got off with a three-year suspension from UMNO.

A few hours after Tan's arrest, the ISA hammer descended on Teresa Kok, assemblywoman for Kinrara, for allegedly submitting a petition to a mosque in Puchong to lower down the volume of the azan, the Islamic call to prayer. She didn't submit said petition. In fact, the petition didn't say anything about the Azan at all (a copy HERE) - it's only a request for the reducing of the speakers' volume during the Ceramah, the Kuliah Subuh and Kuliah Maghrib. Why does any issue concerning religion immediately illicit such ignorant knee-jerk reactions and outcry without even the semblance of an attempt at trying to understand that the issue at hand isn't really a religious matter at all?

The inherent evil that ties all these arrests together is the ISA which, I shall say again, is as close to absolute power as anything is in this country - and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Anyone can be imprisoned and silenced indefinitely under it without trial and, as we have witnessed in recent days, without even reasons at all. Datuk Seri Abdullah Badawi, our Prime Minister, said that "The government will not use ISA without concrete reason" and his words rang pathetically hollow in my ears. Where is Justice? I ask this without anger or outrage. I ask this because I lament the fact that I can no longer see it. Where is Justice? Where is it now?

The ISA is a violation against human rights and when I say "human rights", I am referring to the rights of all Malaysians, of all the people living in this world. It's not a violation of the rights of the Chinese people. It's not a violation of the rights of the Malays, or Indians or whatsoever ethnicity that fate has ordained you to belong to. It's a violation of OUR rights, OUR rights as human beings. Maybe the ISA has not touched you. Maybe the ISA is just this semi-real threat which only happens to "other people". Or maybe you just agree with the government's initiative of arresting these "seditious malcontents" in the name of National Security. One day, when you cease to agree with the person who controls the government, or when someone whose policies you feel are unable to consent to takes power - you'll find that the ISA is very real, very wrong, and knows exactly where you live.

There are people from certain quarters who can simultaneously condemn the ISA for being the evil tool of tyranny it is - while calling for its warped brand of justice onto the likes of Datuk Ahmad Ismail. This is hypocrisy. This is "doublethink" at its finest. George Orwell, when he wrote Nineteen Eighty-Four, coined the term to describe the act of accepting two mutually contradictory beliefs as being simultaneously correct, conforming to either when the situation calls for it. I do not want the ISA to be pointed at anyone. I want it to be destroyed. It hasn't reached my family, my friends or me yet - but I don't want to wait till it does. Why then, people of Malaysia, are you waiting?

People have speculated that the recent slew of arrests under the ISA are just baits. The people behind them wants people to come out and protest, to make a whole lot of hoohah which, after all is said and done, would do not an inch of good for both us and the detainees. What it'll probably do is give an excuse to the government to enforce Emergency laws in the face of imminent mass unrest and to consolidate their power. The events of these days are bearing more than a passing similarity to those leading up to the Tragedy of May 13 - and it was a TRAGEDY, people, for everyone regardless of race or creed.

Communicate your disappointment and discontentment through safer channels and with discretion. Speak through your blogs, on the internet, on this very last inch of our freedom because it is of utmost importance that people do not remain ignorant of the rotten state of our country. I am here to say, and I believe I speak for everyone; I do not care which party rule my country, be it Barisan Nasional, the Opposition or whatever. The only thing I care about is that that party do right by the people of Malaysia.



P.S. I will vote in the next General Election.



Malaysian,
k0k s3n w4i

Ronald McDonald, You Son of a Bitch

"We were taken to a fast food café where our order was fed into a computer. Our hamburgers, made from the flesh of chemically impregnated cattle, had been broiled over counterfeit charcoal, placed between slices of artificially flavored cardboard and served to us by recycled juvenile delinquents."

Jean Michel Chapereau

Just a little more than a week and a half ago, I landed in KLIA after spending a whole year abroad in India and I returned to Malacca finding the town to be a whole lot more foreign than when I left it. I spent the first few days just chilling in my room, reading and occasionally venturing out after midnight to look for food so I don't starve to death. A few days later, some old Taylor's College classmates came down from KL, so I brought them to a few choice eating places that every Malaccan can be proud of and finding, with much relief, that these places have not changed the least bit.

Then, a few days ago at about 1:00 am, after discovering that my favourite 24 hour yong tau fu place was closed for the day (night?), so I set my course to the nearest other 24 hour restaurant in the district; the Pahlawan Megamall McDonald's.

There, I ordered an evergreen classic, the McChicken burger and what the cashier set on my tray made me want to scream,

The horrors! The inhumanity! Someone get me a gun, quick! There's someone I want to shoot for this.

The McChicken came in a goddamn box!

When did this fucking happen?! And more importantly, why didn't anyone fucking warn me?!

I didn't actually scream, per se, but I did stare at it for a smidgen too long - actually prompting the cashier to ask me if there's anything wrong. Yes, there's a friggin' box on my tray, I wanted to answer but thought better of it.

There was a time long ago when fast food always meant either McDonald's or KFC. It wasn't much of a toss for me between the two because I was always more partial to McD's. The reason, however, isn't so much a matter of taste or quality as it is about getting my hands greasy and covered in sauce.That's what happens every time I go for KFC - those fried chickens leak more grease than an oil tanker disaster - but you can hardly blame them, really. Fried chickens are different from burgers, which are round and can easily be wrapped with a sheet of greaseproof paper (which McD's used to do, if you remember).

Then later, when KFC introduced the Zinger - their flagship burger with a fillet of their awesome crispy fried chicken in it - which I discovered, with much disappointment, comes in a box. I ordered the Zinger on a grand total of one occasion, and never again for years after. There was mayonnaise all over my fingers and even after washing them with water, there's still a residual sheen of oil left on them. That's not good. Its not fast food if you got to spend more than 10 minutes getting your hands clean. McD's burgers are simply elegant, in comparison. Just unwrap one side and bite. You don't even need to wash your hands before (or after) you eat.

McD's marketing strategies are what I often cite as the reason for their success over KFC in Malaysia. KFC is known for their horrible decisions on a bad string of gimmicky, overpriced products (remember the Bandito, people? and their crappy fish burger?) and pulling out genuinely awesome products off their menu shortly after introduction (The Waikiki Burger, for example, which is basically Zinger with a pineapple ring. For a while, it made me willing to forgive KFC's burger-in-a-box and ate one for lunch everyday).

If I'm not mistaken, KFC, in the past few years at least, have started wrapping their Zingers with greaseproof paper. I consider it to be either a sign that KFC have started to concede to McD's genius or that KFC have fired their worthless marketing execs and managed to woo some of McD's people over to their side. I'm in favour of the latter theory because apparently, McD's hired KFC's old, jobless marketing execs who then somehow - I don't know how - managed to convince the Boss of Golden Arches that taking their burgers out of their greaseproof wrappers and putting them into fucking boxes is a good fucking idea.

Also, I think making cardboard boxes uses a lot more paper, and hence, cuts down more trees - not to mention that a customer would have to use a ton of paper napkins after getting a sloppy mess on their hands from a burger from a box. You want statistics? Here's one; I used to use an average of two serviettes in every visit to McD's in the past. Now I use five.

I'm pretty green, as far as Malaysians go - I refuse plastic bags whenever I can and carry my own shopping bag. And I have stopped driving up to KL too and went back to using buses instead.

I foresee that I'll be visiting the 24 hours KFC in Gajah Berang a lot more often now. Burger King too would most likely see a lot more of me in the daylight hours and even though their burgers are more expensive, they at least have the decency to taste a whole lot better than McD's (take that, burger-boxing corporate scums).



McD's fan in protest,
k0k s3n w4i

I'd Like You to Meet My New Best Friend

... her name is Panasonic Lumix DMC TZ-15.

Say "cli-ick"!

Okay, the above picture isn't very good but that's because it's a just a mirror reflection and my room's rather dark. Wait, saying my room is dark is understating it. It's right in the middle of the house with no windows or doors which open to the outdoors - that means zero natural light. In a way though, it appeals to my morbid sense of aesthetics and my personal preference to do any work at night.

On the other hand, I think I'm beginning to wilt.

I haven't been playing with it as much as I should (lots of reading to do, see) but here's a couple of pictures I took last week,

Taken through a car's windscreen - on a moving car (and you know it's moving pretty fast 'cause it's yellow light).


A Malacca River I hardly recognise. I'm loving the 16:9 ratio, baby.

As for the features, I'll just read off the box here, okay?

• Leica DC Lens [Whatever that is.]
• Mega O.I.S. [I think it has something to do with image stabilising because there's a little cartoon beside the words depicting what looks like a shivering camera.]
• 10x optical zoom [Finally, something written in English! It's one of the reason I chose this baby here. I like photographing animals - and trying to slowly creep up to a squirrel really takes a lot out of a man. Plus, I heard that no other compact in the business has this much firepower.]
• Wide angle, 28 mm (35 mm EQUIV.) [I don't know what the numbers mean but WIDE ANGLE!!! WHEEE!!!]
• 9.1 megapixels [The downside of this is each picture I snap takes up at least 3 megabytes in the memory card. And no, I don't want to lower the size. I got 9.1 megapixels and I'm going to use each and every one of them. So there.]
• 460,000 Dots 3.0 inch Large LCD [Makes my old 2.5 inch look like a postage stamp.]
• Face Detection [I usually turn this off because... let's put it this way; how many pictures in my blog actually contain faces?]
• Digital Red-eye Correction [But red-eyes are coooool!!!]

There's also a sundry of little features which I think I read somewhere while leafing through the manual like having this ability found on many recent DSLRs to preserve highlights while brightening shadow area (something I manually perform to the best of my ability with Adobe Photoshop with pictures from my old camera). If I understand my photo lingo, it means that my skies are no longer a featureless, white facade. Oh, there's also an option to record high definition videos and the ability to zoom while filming. Sweet, but ultimately quite useless for me because I don't shoot videos.

A lot of people asked me why I didn't get a DSLR instead - which I'd like to, by the way - but look people, I'm not made of money. Besides, I want a travel camera - something pocket-sized which I can whip out at a moment's notice - not something you can potentially win a cage match at the WWE with by repeatedly introducing it to your opponent's head.

Anyhow, time to get back to my books, kids. I wish I'd feel stoked enough to write proper articles again soon. I have a 'Dear X' letter I have been planning to write with X being 'the Chinese People of Malaysia' and a rant about McDonald's heinous crime against humanity. At the moment, I have both feet squelching in the doldrums.

A Vacation of First Time Authors

"Everyone probably thinks that I'm a raving nymphomaniac, that I have an insatiable sexual appetite, when the truth is I'd rather read a book."

Madonna

She also claims to be English.

Before I lock, load and fire my blog into full travelogue mode, there's something that I would like to do first before I procrastinate enough to completely forget about it - that is, a book review; a double review, to be exact. I finished 4 books during the two weeks I was out and about in the Indian south (The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss, The Lies of Locke Lamora by Scott Lynch, Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman and The Dragonbone Chair by Tad Williams). Phoebe did a respectable 2 and a half books herself (Haruki Murakami's Sputnik Sweetheart and Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World and half of Gaiman's Neverwhere). We're just that sort of people who carry (several) books with us wherever we go.

The two books I'll be talking about in this post are, as the title of this post clearly outlined, the works of first time authors Patrick Rothfuss and Scott Lynch. I know firsthand how hard it is for a discerning fan of speculative fiction to wade through the heavy pollution of the commercial book market and surface with anything even halfway decent or original. It's not without due justice that most literati (read; bloody elitists) consider fantasy to be a largely frivolous and rubbishy genre - and it certainly doesn't help the genre's image that a lot of fantasy novels have covers which look like this,

Sure, women regularly fought the forces of evil wearing nothing but tight g-stri... wait, is that the creepy frog thing's crotch she's groping?

So, like I was saying, I'm here to point my fellow Malaysian speculative fiction aficionados to the right books by spreading the word about two absolute gems I managed to trawl from the mire. Read bravely on, people,

The Name of the Wind (The Kingkiller Chronicle: Day 1) by Patrick Rothfuss

Hey, this isn't bad at all!

There's nothing I can say which can do The Name of the Wind more justice than this excerpt taken straight out of the book,

"I have stolen princesses back from sleeping barrow kings. I burned down the town of Trebon. I have spent the night with Felurian and left with both my sanity and my life. I was expelled from the University at a younger age than most people are allowed in. I tread paths by moonlight that others fear to speak of during day. I have talked to Gods, loved women, and written songs that make minstrels weep.

My name is Kvothe. You may have heard of me."

That got me completely hooked the first time I read that in a book review somewhere. If there's ever an entire novel written with the Rule of Cool in mind, that novel is this.

The book itself was written largely from a first person's narrative - Kvothe's, the titular Kingkiller, naturally - recounting his life's tale to Devan Lochees (or The Chronicler, as he is better known in the story) who tracked him down in some insignificant medieval everytown masquerading as an innkeeper under the alias 'Kote', for reasons yet to reveal themselves. Kvothe conceded to telling Lochees his story but he would only do so under the enigmatic condition that it must be done within the span of 3 days.

I am not going to spoil Kvothe's colourful and exciting past for you so I'll just tell you that it is equal parts Oliver Twist and A Wizard of Earthsea by the incomparable Madam Ursula K. LeGuin. Indeed, the part about Kvothe's enrollment and education at the University can almost be called plagiarism of Madam LeGuin's telling of Sparrowhawk's study on the wizarding school of Roke in A Wizard of Earthsea - there's even a Master Namer in Kvothe's University, as was there in Roke, and Kvothe's rich, affluent, rival in the University, Ambrose, can almost be mistaken for a distant cousin of Jasper, Sparrowhawk's nemesis on Roke. I am willing to forgive that, however, in view that Rothfuss's University is a shade more well-painted than Roke. You can almost believe that such an institution exists in our world from the little details that the author had included in describing it; the options of accomodations available to the students, the sort of entertainment available in a nearby city which and earthy subjects like Rhetorics and Arithmetics taught alongside its more fantastic courses of study. Being a campus rat myself, I can easily draw parallels from Kvothe's University to my own.

Kvothe's story in this first of three books detailed his young life with his parents who are part of a troupe of traveling performers and storytellers, the circumstances which led him to the University and how he, in the end, discover what he had came to sought since he was a child; the Name of the Wind. How part of his overall notoriety was gained from even his early days in the University was particularly delightful to read about.

Kvothe's story was punctuated by short moments in the present where strange happening were occuring around him, the Chronicler and his apprentice, Bast; hinting at a much greater story to follow in the sequels. Bast himself is an incredibly intriguing character. Not much is said in the novel about his origins, his motives for following Kvothe and even less of his violently, bizarre actions towards the end of the book - but I am dying to find out.

The hardcover of the second book, The Wise Man's Fear (The Kingkiller Chronicle: Day 2) would be out next April, and goodness knows when a paperback would follow. Why couldn't I have stumbled on a completed work?

Score: 8/10

The Lies of Locke Lamora by Scott Lynch

Why, this cover is downright cool, even.

I like The Lies of Locke Lamora even more than I did The Name of the Wind. It' is set in a fantasy version of medieval Venice called Camorr which is chiefly peopled by three main classes of society; the peers (the nobility), the merchants and all the criminals you can stuff in between the first two. I truly marvel at Mr Lynch's eye for complexity. The silent, omnious, indestructible Elderglass towers which dominates the city's skyline, the only remains of a mysterious race who once lived there, hinted at deep back story which I hope will be sufficiently plumbed in this book's subsequent sequels. The science of alchemical botany is another of Camorr's charm which, while doing a lot to enrich the background of the story, is allowed to operate at a very ambient and low key level so that it does not distract from the narrative. The underworld of Camorr is perhaps the most colourful element of Camorr; gangs and criminal guilds operating competitively with one another, each led by a garrista (or captain), answerable only to Capa Barsavi, the garrista of garristas - basically the Godfather of Camorr.

Locke Lamora was bought by Father Chains from the Thiefmaker, who found a niche in Camorr's criminal underworld training orphans to be a thieves. Locke, although an incredibly talented pickpocket and schemer, had forced the Thiefmaker's hand in getting rid of him because, well, he did something that the Thiefmaker couldn't risk his other charges knowing for fear of losing his authority for good - I'll leave you to find out what that is.

Father Chains is the leader of the Gentlemen Bastards, which Locke will later helm (the series is called The Gentleman Bastard Sequence, by the way). Under the tutelage of Father Chains, Locke and his colleagues learnt an exciting and profitable new method of stealing, the then-unheard-of art of con-artistry, and stole chiefly from the peers of Camorr - in violation of the Secret Peace, which is an agreement between the nobility and Capa Barsavi that protects the peers from theft.

The confidence games which Locke and his crew carry out are exhilarating examples of magnificent bastardry, calling to mind heist flicks like Ocean's Eleven. They are so successful in preying on the peers that they actually managed to accumulate more money than they can possibly spend.

What I truly enjoy about Mr Lynch's style of writing is the little flashbacks into Locke's and his friend's childhoods in between chapter of the main plot which offer deep insights in to the characters' motivations and actions in the present. In fact, the book's climax wouldn't have worked so incredibly well if it wasn't for one of those past anecdotes. Additionally, Locke Lamora's relationship with Jean Tannen is one of the few rare instances in speculative fiction of a truly believable friendship.

Mr Lynch is also a real master at characterisation and his Locke Lamora is a welcome throwback to protagonists that a reader can truly care about. I never really cared about Harry Potter of the Potter books (especially after Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix), or Nathaniel from the Bartimaeus Trilogy (except in the last book). Heck, I can't even remember the name of the protagonist of Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere! Locke Lamora is different. Whether it's because he's such a magnificent bastard or because of his positively Dickensian orphan backstory, you will clap your hands over each of his victories, hold your breath in his moments of peril and weep at his losses.

Jean Tannen is another rare triumph of characterisation. I can honestly say that if a sequel is written centered only around him, with no Locke Lamora at all, I'd still read it.

Actually, the second book is out. It's called Red Seas Under Red Skies, an unlikely mixture of a casino heist and a pirate adventure. The only reason I haven't bought it yet is because I couldn't find one with the same sort of cover art as my first book.

The Lies of Locke Lamora put in me a thirst I have not experienced in a long time, one that makes me say, "I wonder what would Locke and Jean do next?" - which is not at all the same as "I wonder what will happen next." Yes, there's a big difference between the two.

Score: 9/10



P.S. Both The Name of the Wind and The Lies of Locke Lamora are published by Gollancz. I think I'll keep a close eye out for books from this publishing house in the future.

P.P.S. I'm thinking of devoting a small section in my sidebar for short book reviews, much like my movie review box. What do you guys think?



Has a whole new respect for first time authors,
k0k s3n w4i