I am
not sure how I got about reading books but I have a strong feeling my parents
had something to do with it. I was an avid reader during my pre- primary school
days right up to primary 5. I remember being dragged to Bedok Regional Library
from 530pm all the way till it was closing time. I would spend an hour running
around the library with a random person from the same age group until either
the librarian or a responsible adult reminded me why I was at the library. I
really did not want to read. I would, then, go to the same shelves and look for
the same books. The books that I always looked for in the library included The Berenstein Bears series, Maxi the Taxi Dog and Enid Blyton’s Noddy and his adventures in Toyland and
any Enid Blyton short stories book I could grab my hands on.
To be honest, The Berenstein
bears and Maxi the Taxi Dog series were fascinating to me because their covers
were so well illustrated with vibrant colours. The Berenstein bears also
fascinated me because they were written by Stan and Jan Berenstein. I spent
most of my childhood under the impression that maybe they were actual bears
living in a tree house and they were so smart that they could read, write and
understand what it takes to make a good family. I learnt my rights from my
wrongs from such books. Maxi played a pivotal role in explaining to me why
honesty is the best policy while the bears helped me negotiate my own family
from time to time.
My favourite book growing up was
Noddy. I would spend hours immersed in the imaginary land of Toyland,
fascinated by everything they did; what food they ate, how they went up their
everyday work and how different toys could co-exist so well in the same
neighbourhood. It was more alien to me
as a Singaporean as our dear Enid was basing her stories on the everyday lives
of the Western world she lived in and that fascinated me. I mean, why would
anyone need a milkman? Noddy did had a very big impression on me back then and
now that I think about it, I rage in anger over some of the things I got from
Noddy. I began to think that if you had a beard, you naturally wise and smart a
la Big Ears. I realized that bears are most likely to be female since Tessie
Bear pulled of being one so convincingly. Most disturbingly, I learnt not to
trust anyone who was African. I remember one particular story about
Golliwogs(who were illustrated and black and with the same hairstyle as the
Raggae superstars from back then) asking Noddy to taxi them somewhere in the
woods. It was there that they stole all his valuables including his car and
clothes and left him on the side of the road. The illustration that accompanied
this was a naked Noddy in tears in the forest. It was particularly scarring and
strangely similar to a recent occurrence in Delhi, if you think about it. Enid
made me think that all African people were corrupted and evil. In Singapore, I
also hardly came across anyone of African descent so I actually could not
verify what Enid had written. It was only after I saw Eddie Murphy on the big
screen did I realize that maybe Enid was wrong.It makes one question the young adult canon since Enid Blyton was such a well regarded writer of this age group.
In Primary 5, I was one book away
from gaining my Reading badge (that badge you get for reading 100 books a
month). I was given this book called The
Wave by Todd Strasser about how a student movement somehow begins to mimic
the communist Nazi movements. I was fascinated by how much I learnt from that
one book. All of a sudden I was curious about something beyond my classroom and
I was extremely thankful for Singapore being a Democratic country. This was the
first serious novel I read (first novel that tackled a serious issue).
Ironically, it was happening at around the same time where I was reading 90
cents Spiderman, Casper the friendly Ghost and X-Men comics as sold in the
occasional book bazaars in school. Beyond this, Graveyard School was especially appealing to me as well. Reading James Bond Junior and Re-Boot adventure books also took up a
lot of my time. I loved adventure books as I could actually control how the
book ends. In a way, I was writing the book and the decisions the character
would make without lifting a pen. Of course, I would kill the main character 3
times before making the “correct” decisions as outlined by the actual author.
The moral of the story: You need to lift a pen. There is no easy way out in
creativity.
Sadly, my passion for reading
would be overtaken by that of soccer and in Secondary School I read everything
Soccer. Every month I needed a copy of the Match magazine to quench my undying
soccer thirst. This however, made me want more and I started investing myself
in books related to soccer. The books I read included Sir Alex Ferguson’s biography, David Beckham’s best-selling biography and
my particular favourite Richard Kurt’s
United- Despatches from Old Trafford. Richard taught me about the amazing
creativity the British had with words and how he could turn a serious soccer
match into comic relief. He also showed me, in-depth, everything I missed about
my beloved Manchester United. More importantly, I learnt how to get creative
with vulgarities when addressing players not Manchester united related. I was
fascinated by poetry from Secondary two as well, though. I found a new way to
express myself through it and one of my favourites back then was Dulce et Decorum est by Wilfred Owen. I
viewed war in a way that was very different and it was the first poem that I
felt truly captured the poet’s emotions. It should have triggered me off to
read more poetry and it rightly did. Alfian
Sa’at’s One Fierce hour was appealing as I was in awe about how he could
manipulate the Merlion into the most disgusting creature in Singapore. I got
fascinated by Singaporean comic writers and all of a sudden I was reading Neil Humphrey’s Scribbles from the Same
Island which I borrowed. I never really got out to buy books or go to the
library and just used to read whatever I could find at home. Unfortunately for
me, the only books I saw at home. J K Rowling’s Harry Potter and the Chamber of
Secrets and Bridget Jones’ Diary
(Yes, I had to turn to Chick lit) were read as a result. Beyond this however,
much of my time was spent on Soccer handbooks. I was under the impression that I could play
great football by reading about it. I must have read at least 5 coaching books
on how to be a brilliant footballer. I assure you, none of them worked. It did,
however, up my appreciation for football.
Towards the end of Secondary School, William
Shakespeare became a favourite. Othello,
Macbeth and Romeo and Juliet had more twists than a regular Bollywood movie
and I loved the way he could think of different ways of providing drama way
back then. My O level text, Susan Hill’s
I’m the King of the Castle was also a favourite among all of us in the
class. I can never forget how Charles Kingshaw climbs on top of a monument and
tells Edmund “Fuck to you. I’m the King of the castle!” It was something all of
us back then just wanted to say to the adults around us before we embark on a
fairy tale life of lollipops, candy and unlimited football. This goes to show how Secondary School
students are clueless about life, more often than not. It also gave us an
escape. We all thoroughly communicated through Charles when we recited those
lines as we all had a “bully” bearing down on us in the form of our ‘O’ levels.
I must stress, once again, we did not know better. By now, however, I realized
that I was actually reading because I enjoyed it.
Junior College was a time where I
read Silas Marner by the so-called
George Eliot, Othello (once again), William
Wycherley’s Country Wife and my favourite, Matthew lewis’s The Monk. Oh! The levels of wrong that book covered
was “mind-blowing”. It was particularly
fascinating as it worked heavily on the taboo. In my whole schooling life the
taboo was, well, taboo. Finally, through these Gothic texts we could explore it
in detail and actually voice out our concerns on it in a classroom setting. It
was actually legal! Moreover, Lewis wrote the book around the time he would
have been in JC. He really captured what anyone from his age group would really
be interested by. Othello was not enjoyable second time round but at least
Shakespeare was less racist than Enid.
From Junior College to
University, I never really had any time for books. Football was still a major
subject of interest for me and I spend most of my time reading soccer
magazines, online articles and newspapers. I still spend a significant amount
of time reading and researching soccer. Almost every other day I would come
across an interesting article on the life of an ex player, the varying
perspectives on a current day player and those stories that just downright
shock you. It could be a manager being sacked despite winning all his games in
a season, a man being hired as a manager based on his online gaming records or
even how the next big footballer literally becomes big and fat due to a mental
breakdown. The reason why I enjoy it is
because I know it. I know football and can easily relate to the articles and
also take in new perspectives to broaden how I view football.
Literature
is an escape for me. My favourite form of escapism where I could learn about a
new world beyond the one I live in. I learnt from every book I read and every
book I read shaped my thinking and my interests. Sometimes, it worked the other
way round and my interests made me want to read more. Literature made me
think further and gives me new perspectives.
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