I REMEMBER with great fondness my six years at the local community drama club in Auckland, New Zealand.

On Monday evenings we would spend two hours or so cavorting around learning characterisation (a broom stick attempting to free itself from a cupboard), improvisation techniques and how to project the voice ("diaphragm people!").

These weekly classes were to ready us for the end of term musical productions the club would stage three times a year. In my time I played numerous characters, from a glow-in-the-dark toadstool and an evil baron with a wry smile, to a juggling clown called Zibbidy.

All this experience ignited my passion for the performing arts, which continued through my teenage and tertiary years, eventually leading me to theatre, film and television/media work.

Apart from confidence, the shows I was a part of as a child imparted the fine art of communication — no matter how or what I was dressed-up in — something that has come in very handy in my career.

I got to re-live some of my experiences in child-theatre last weekend when I saw one of the final performances of Magic For Maya, produced by the Centre Stage School of the Arts, which conducts regular classes in acting, dance and singing from a black and white colonial building, off Portsdown Road.

Set in war-time Singapore, the play tells the tale of a young teen, Maya, and her friends as they wait out the night for word of their parents who are stationed at Alexandra Hospital. To ease their angst, Aunt Jenny — the only adult in the play — gets the kids to role-play, sing songs and perform magic as the ominous drone of air raid sirens and mortar explosions echo outside.

Over 60-minutes, we experience the children's emotional challenges as they discover more about themselves and how, even in the darkest of moments, they must find courage together and hope for a better tomorrow.

Writer/director, Sangeeta Nambiar said the story came about after she read about the Alexandra Hospital massacre on Valentine's Day 1942, where hundreds of British troops, medical staff and patients were slaughtered by the Japanese forces.

"I was amazed at how this event had stayed a statistic," said Nambiar. "The idea for the play emerged from there."

The energised cast, ranging from eight to 15-years, gave a thoroughly engaging performance that also included music by Jane Lau and Neeraj Shaabi, dance and even some sleight-of-hand trickery.

Their raw talent shone through and each member brought individuality to their part, which was refreshing to see and contributed to the intrigue and the message behind Nambiar's script.

Maya, played by 15-year-old Ida Esmaeili, gave a stand-out performance as the play's main protagonist and even at such a tender age, her talents are already apparent.

She was complemented by Sam Duffy, 13, who took on the imaginary character of the Great Count Spinney during one of the kids' games, with great gusto and swooping of limbs. Shaggy-haired Neil Shaabi, eight, was also a joy to watch as he confidently performed the famous Indian rope trick to the gasps and applause of the cast and the packed-out audience.

At one point, the game between Spinney and Maya role-playing the wise Lord Tigre (Tiger), goes too far. Spinney pretends to be wounded in a dramatic duel, scared she may have actually hurt him, Maya breaks out of character to check on her friend. But it was all a trick and Spinney claims victory, abruptly ending the game.

Aunt Jenny steps in, reminding Sam the game should be fun.

"But war is like that Aunt Jenny," he tries to reason.

"Yes, but we mustn't lose our minds or courage — no one can take away our spirit," Jenny cautions.

Suddenly the children are faced with the grim reality of war, death and the fear of the unknown.

"What have we done to them?" Maya pleads.

Heavy stuff and yet the cast of nine never missed a beat and had the audience — a mixture of parents, kids and the public — in the palm of their hands, right to final scene where Maya and Aunt Jenny remind us that with hope, and strength of character we're capable of great things.

During the rapturous curtain call, seeing the kids beaming with delight at their performance, it reminded me how important this exposure is for a child. The opportunity to take on a character, make it your own and work with both kids and adults to put on a show for the public is an empowering feeling that stays with you always.

The cast and crew of Magic For Maya. PHOTO: Centre Stage

Productions like Magic For Maya provide an outlet for youth to explore their abilities, where they can feel emotions and use them to power a story line, allowing them to communicate on multiple levels with their peers and their audience.

Through my work in schools here, teaching drama and media, I've seen that this form of expression is sometimes lacking as drama and dance co-curricular activities are often used as a vehicle to win awards in the Singapore Youth Festival. Their efforts are worthy, but once the competition is over that's it for another year.

Hopefully, more schools like Centre Stage will take up the baton and provide opportunities for Singapore youth to perform year round.

Child-theatre not only imparts the skills to communicate but also the confidence to be an individual, the sooner kids grasp this the better and like Maya they will come to realise, as Aunt Jenny said: "Magic is all in the mind. Magic is really what we make of it."

The Centre Stage players are next performing at Jubilee Hall from December 3-6 in their Christmas production; A Right Rubbish Christmas. Visit their website for show and course details.

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CURRENTLY showing on Channel 5, the Flashforward TV series is based on the book by the same name, but with major plot differences, by Robert J Sawyer.

Although the basic premise – that something causes people around the world to pass out and dream about jumping forward in time – is the same in the book and the series, substantial details are not.

Most notably, the central characters in the book version are physicists based at CERN, home of the Large Hadron Collider, in Switzerland. In the TV version, the central characters are much more exciting – FBI agents based in Los Angeles.

All of this, to my mind, actually takes away from Sawyer's very interesting storyline and also, quite horribly, destroys the whole premise that is the 'flash forward' phenomenon.

Basically in the book, the flash forward occurs because of an experiment with the Hadron Collider, it is the cause of the action that is the basis of the story. In the TV show the reason behind why the flash forward occurs is something to do with an experiment at Stanford University.

This is where the show's producers have given a token nod to Sawyer's book – the character at Stanford is called Dr. Lloyd Simcoe, much reduced from his central role in the original version. Obviously the TV guys didn't think a series with a balding, 40-something physicist working in Switzerland would be a ratings winner.

And this is also why the TV is nonsensical. Don't get me wrong; I'm all for fantasy and science fiction with crazy plots and unbelievable storylines, but they should make some sort of basic sense.

In Sawyer's book, there are great swathes of physics, paragraphs on mathematics and philosophy and also musings about guilt and personal choice – all of which give the reader something more meaty to think on.

Would you really want to know the future if you knew you were going to be dead? Or working in a dead-end job, married to the wrong person or not married to the person you now love?

Or, on the other hand, would you want to know the future if it could tell you what you should be studying now? Or could tell you how your children are going to turn out; or could let you know that you'll be happily married to the person you love?

Sawyer's version of Flashforward is more philosophical, it's more complex and detailed, and naturally enough, that's not good TV.

Admittedly the producers of the show say that it is 'loosely based' on Sawyer's book, but from what I've seen the two entities are on opposite sides of the entertainment universe.

I suppose what is most annoying is that the name is the same. And the publishers of the book, Gollancz, are pitching it as being linked to the TV series, which is doing quite well around the world.

This is rather disingenuous, as the TV show is really nothing like the book and it looks more like the publisher is simply trying to travel on the coattails of the show, which is in some way demeaning for the novel which deserves better.

If you enjoy juicy technical science fiction rather than TV-land pap, go for Sawyer's version. You won't be disappointed and you'll learn things about physics that you would never have imagined.

Flashforward by Robert J Sawyer is published by Gollancz and is available from good book stores and online.

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THE edgy, punchy, sexy series that is True Blood on HBO may have finished its second season in Singapore, but if you're still after tales of vampires, werewolves and fairies you can get stuck into Charlaine Harris' collected short stories about Sookie Stackhouse with A Touch of Dead.

A Touch of Dead has five stories based on the world of Sookie Stackhouse, the human who can read minds, dates vampires and whose brother is a were-panther. The original Sookie stories are now being translated in to an award-winning series on HBO and stars Anna Paquin as Sookie.

As Harris says in her introduction to the collection, Sookie's world is a complex and complicated one and the author was concerned about attempting to condense it into the short story format. She even admits that some of her efforts were more successful than others but, also says that she enjoyed the exercise:

"It's been hard to fit the stories into Sookie's larger history without leaving seams. Sometimes I succeeded, sometimes not. In this edition, I've tried to smooth out the edges of the story that was the most fun to write but wouldn't fit in its chronological hole no matter how I pounded (Dracula Night)."

Dracula Night sees the local vampire bar, Fangtasia, celebrating Prince Dracula's birthday – kind of like the vampire version of Christmas. The twist is that their hero may actually attend the event. Eric Northman, Sookie's sometime lover in the later books of the series but still an unknown enemy in the TV version, is particularly enamoured of the idea of a visit from Prince Dracula. Needless to say, Sookie manages to get an invite and happens to be in the right place at the right time once again.

What is interesting reading these stories is that the characters now take on the visual images of the actors who portray them on TV. Sometimes this works, Paquin is a good choice for Sookie; sometimes it doesn't. Still, it can be a little off-putting.

But the generally light-hearted stories in A Touch of Dead are a great antidote to the heavily detailed and often emotionally tortured stories of Harris' Sookie Stackhouse books. There's a bit of death in Fairy Dust – when fairy siblings who work at a strip joint (don't ask) go after a murderer – there's some magic in Lucky – when a local witch tries to do the right thing and ends up doing the opposite and some raunchy sex in Gift Wrap – which is just that, a gift wrapped in some sexy packaging.

If you love the Sookie Stackhouse series then it's worth getting your hands on A Touch of Dead to have the whole set and to while away the time until Harris produces the next novel in the series.

A busy author, Harris has also just released the latest book in her other supernatural series about Harper Connelly, Grave Secret.

Harper, like Sookie, is human but she's been touched by the supernatural; Harper can feel the dead. It doesn't matter how old they are, Harper can find sense their graves and, in doing so, find out how they died.

Needless to say, she's useful if you're a police officer but not if you're a murderer, so she's generally getting into trouble, one way or another.

Harper travels with her 'brother' Tolliver, who is also her lover. But before it gets too icky; they're not actually related to each other, being step-siblings from an unholy union of two drug addicts, they have looked after each other all their lives.

Grave Secrets sees the pair return to their hometown for the first time in years in an attempt to trace their missing older sister, Cameron. Picking up some work at the same time, Harper discovers that a very rich man may have had an illegitimate child – that may also have been murdered.

Tolliver's former drug addict, ex-prisoner father is also back on the scene and as family complications ensue, the pair get shot at, chased and learn the terrible truth about what may have happened to their sister.

Harris' skill at making her characters and their stories approachable and 'real' is what makes her supernatural-themed stories more substantial than the usual 'sexy vampire' pap that seems everywhere these days.

Sookie is a real person; she's insecure, funny, caring and looking for love. Harper is just as real; she's in love, damaged by her past and coming to terms with her future.

The fact that both women have special 'talents' doesn't make them any less real for the reader who likes to dream that there's a wider world of wonder out there.

Grave Secret by Charlaine Harris is published by Gollancz and is available from good book stores and online. A Touch of Dead by Charlaine Harris is also published by Gollancz and available from good book stores and online.

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THIS seems terribly tragic but for someone born on Halloween, I actually attended a Halloween gathering for the first time this year.

To be fair, the festival was never a big thing when I was growing up in the 1980s. As far as I can tell, it's only really grown in popularity in recent years.

Luckily my first time turned out to be a highly memorable one, full of vivid sights that will live long in the memory.

I was at the centre of the action at the bridge leading from Riverside Point to the clubs and bars of Clarke Quay, amid hundreds of revellers dressed as everything from devils and ninjas to geisha girls and Scooby Doo.

Singaporeans come out to play for Halloween.
PHOTO: Nicholas Yong

An enterprising stallholder was selling hairbands with glowing horns to those who did not come in costume, but many did not need it.

In a carnival atmosphere reminiscent of Mardi Gras, the night was full of little spontaneous outbursts that livened up the whole atmosphere.

Like the surreal sight of Watchmen's Rorschach calling out to X-Men's Wolverine: "Logan! Come on over for a picture, it’s a superheroes gathering!"

'Wolverine' gets up close with a she-devil. PHOTO: Nicholas Yong

Watchmen's Rorschach isn't scared of H1N1.
PHOTO: Nicholas Yong

Or the Roman who got his toga pulled up by his friend, only to reveal that he was wearing nothing underneath, to moans and cheers from onlookers.

Just below the bridge, partygoers admired one another's costumes and sportingly posed for photos with one another that were guaranteed to find their way onto Facebook the next day. A man dressed as a soft drink even caused a small commotion when numerous individuals ran after him for a picture.

Many came dressed to party, and had clearly put in effort into their costumes.

"Eh, I even did research," said one dressed as a parking attendant, who proudly showed off his big hat and small slingbag with an equally small umbrella hanging from it. He looked so convincing that I almost thought he was going to issue me a summons, even though I hadn't driven there.

Perhaps the anonymity provided by the costumes – a Scream mask here, a ninja hood there – and the haze of alcohol were what ensured a no-holds-barred party.

Nevertheless, even those without masks contributed to the carnival.

A Michael Jackson circa 1985, treated the crowd to an impressive dance display, before slinking away into the night like his very own one-man flash mob.

Standing in a corner, three Brits dressed as old women with mightily impressive fake breasts cackled away in character.

Cackling 'ladies' at Clarke Quay's Halloween celebrations.
PHOTO: Nicholas Yong

Then came my favourite moment of the night: four revellers in iconic costume who sparked a spontaneous cry of "Ghostbusters!", to the tune of the famous song.

Who you gonna call? PHOTO: Nicholas Yong

And of course, the night would not have been complete without the debilitating effects of booze.

My friend, who was in surgical scrubs, arrived at Clarke Quay so sloshed that he actually looked like he was in need of medical attention himself. "I cannot take it, I have to go home already," he moaned after about an hour.

I might have sympathised, but I was too distracted by some Japanese schoolgirls.

Hope all of you had a rocking Halloween.

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ALONG with about 800+ other people, I turned up to hear writer Neil Gaiman speak on Graphic Novels and Fantasy at the Victoria Theatre last Sunday.

But I wasn't nearly so excited as his hardcore fans, some of whom had turned up at his every appearance during the recent Singapore Writers Festival held over the last week.

After a few dramas, including the apparent scalping of tickets to this Meet the Author event – despite the fact that they were actually free – and a move to a larger venue, Singapore finally got to sit down and listen to the rock star of modern writing chat with adjudicator Lim Cheng Tju, who reviews graphic novels and comics for The Straits Times' Life! section.

Although the show started about 10 minutes late, the rousing applause when Gaiman arrived shook the rafters. A few whistles and catcalls later, and the lanky, curly-haired, black-clad Gaiman settled in for a friendly chat.

Gaiman is currently one of the English language's most popular writers. He's done everything from fantasy novels and children's books to the celebrated The Sandman series of graphic novels.

Known by the mainstream  for his work like American Gods and his collaboration with Terry Pratchett, Good Omens, Gaiman is just as popular in the more underground world of graphic novels and cartoons.

The adjudicator, Mr Lim, mentioned in his introduction that his first Gaiman book, Good Omens, he bought had been stolen by a girl, and so he'd had to buy another one.

Gaiman laughed in response, telling the crowd that his theory for why Good Omens has sold so many copies is because they keep getting borrowed, so people keep having to buy new ones.

"The originals are always brownish; they've been dropped in the bath at least once and had soup spilled on them," Gaiman joked. "Girls always borrow copies of Good Omens and you never get them back."

A number of Gaiman's books, most notably Stardust and more recently Coraline, have been adapted for film and these topics – Good Omens and film adaptations of his work – topped the hot list of questions asked by the crowd on Sunday.

However Mr Lim launched the session with a question about Gaiman's up-coming 50th birthday; how did he feel about the big 5-Oh?

"Odd, really odd," Gaiman responded. "I've got a really cool life, I've done all I set out to do... if tomorrow my plane goes down, it will be alright."

He then launched into a story about how the only time he'd been worried about flying was on a trip to America in 1988 when he had just begun the Sandman series and was carrying a number of precious drawings by Dave Mckean from Black Orchid with him.

This was just the first in a series of humorous anecdotes that Gaiman indulged in through-out the almost hour-long event. He is, as his fans and readers of his work know, a very funny writer.

What is less well-known is that Gaiman is just as funny in real life – he'd make a great standup comic, or he'd be great on one of those humorous treks around the world like Michael Palin does.

Whatever the organisers of this year's Singapore Writers Festival had to spend to get Gaiman here, was well worth it.

This guy really gave value for money with his friendly, approachable style and 'laugh-out-loud' humour. He also went out of his way to ensure that everyone who brought something to sign, got his signature. Apparently he sat for more than 2 hours on Saturday alone signing books, drawings and graphic novels for Singapore fans.

On Sunday, Gaiman won over the crowd immediately – not that there seemed to be anyone there who wasn't a fan to begin with – with his fabulous description of Singaporeans.

"Singaporeans are very enthusiastic, but in a quiet, polite and very organised way," said Gaiman, going on to make an unflattering comment or two about the Filipinos, which he hastily withdrew, covering with a reference to their "noisiness".

"When I landed in Manilla, I couldn't believe it; they're louder than the Brazilians... and I didn't think anyone could be louder than Brazilians!"

More endearing was Gaiman's theory of a 'secret Singaporean delicacy'. He came up with the theory that 'stuffed author' was a secret Singaporean delicacy, where you take "one graying, older author. Feed him wonderful food until he's completely stuffed, and then slice him up into little pick packages".

Naturally enough, Gaiman gained a another round of applause for this pronouncement. Confirming, yet again, that he is a consummate performer.

Don't get me wrong, Gaiman is not at all calculated; he's just very polished in his delivery. He has obviously learned how to make these sorts of events as fun as possible for every one involved.

The adjudicator also asked the writer if he had a preferred medium to work in, or whether he felt that some stories belonged in particular mediums. Gaiman answered that translation was acceptable, but transliteration was not.

Gaiman said that while he enjoyed the movie versions of Stardust and Coraline, they were the directors' versions, not his. His favourite movie was an 8 minute short he'd shot himself staring Bill Nighy and his girlfriend Amanda Palmer – who accompanied Gaiman on the trip and who received her own round of applause at his mention.

He was also given the opportunity to talk about his latest project, a non-fiction look at the story of The Journey to the West – Gaiman had just returned from his third trip to China doing research and interviews for his book. He seemed quite fascinated by the myth.

After a few more questions from the adjudicator, the session was thrown open to the crowd and interestingly enough, the first question was one about new media – specifically this medium, blogging.

As a former journalist, Gaiman was asked whether he thought blogging would take over from traditional media reporting.

"Blogging is something else; it's commentary," he said in answer. "It isn't somebody going out and seeing something and then telling you what really happened. It's not like journalism where... two reporters brought down a presidency (in reference to Watergate).

"Bloggers don't have the same resources, but blogging is a new communication tool, so maybe it could be used for breaking news?" Gaiman asked back, but left the audience in no doubt as to his stand on the issue.

Other questions followed in rapid order with Gaiman explaining the origin of his nickname of 'Scary Trousers', from graphic novelist Alan Moore; and why there are Hayao Miyazaki references in his work, describing a lovely day he spent with Mr Miyazaki.

Gaiman's voluble answers were finally corralled by the adjudicator and he thanked the crowd and the organisers, before receiving a bit of a standing ovation.

Whereupon practically the entire theatre stood up and raced for the exits, so they could get in line for the book signing. Although Gaiman said he'd ensure that everyone got one thing signed, it still meant that people were lined up from The Arts House, all the way down to the riverside.

Author Neil Gaiman happily signed fans' books after his Meet the Author session on Sunday. ST PHOTO

All in all, Gaiman's Meet the Author session was an enjoyable hour spent listening to an intelligent, humorous man with a unique take on the world. For his fans, it was obviously the best time of their lives; with many of them attending not only Gaiman's events but also the performances of his girlfriend, Amanda Palmer.

If there was anything at all off-putting about the double act that is Gaiman and Palmer, it was their constant references to each other at all their events. Yes, they are obviously madly in love with each other, and think their lovers' work is the best thing since sliced bread, but possibly they should be slightly less 'joined at the hip'.

But, that could just be the cynical journalist in me; nobody else seemed to have a problem with the pair's gushing descriptions of how fabulous their other half is. Besides, they are both damn good at what they do, so maybe they're justified in their gushing?

Still, kudos goes to the organisers of the event and to whoever chose to give Singapore the darkly, glimmering show that is the rock star writer, Neil Gaiman.

Neil Gaiman's works are available at good book stores and online. Amanda Palmer is the lead singer of Dresden Dolls, as well as an independent performer in her own right. Her work is available from good CD stores and online. The Singapore Writer's Festival is a bi-annual event.

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I WAS among the one hundred-odd people who got to watch the Singapore premiere of the documentary which featured late singer Michael Jackson’s London comeback shows last night.

The film left viewers musing over what they had missed had Mr Jackson been alive to perform the show — the 3D imagery, pyrotechnics and elaborate stage sets — not to mention the incredible precision of his performance.

His various rehearsals were inter-weaved in the film and they flowed smoothly into the one performance reflecting what he proudly labelled as his "This is it" performance — the gold-plated standard which other performers will have to live up to.

But the strenuous rehearsals — the precisions in the choreography demanded by Mr Jackson of himself and his dancers – not to mention the marathon singing practices — would have exhausted a man half Mr Jackson’s age.

The effort in putting on the show was probably the major cause behind the death of the 50-year old singer, come to think of it.

Still, reflecting on the theme of his London come-back shows reminds me of the uncertain state of the stock market.

Is it "This is it" time for the Dow Jones after it breached the 10,000 level, the benchmark Straits Times Index crossed the 2,700 mark and the Hang Seng swung above the 22,000 level — all at about the same time?

At their respective current levels, the major stock indexes are half-way between their March lows and all-time highs — reached incidentally in late October 2007.

It is not surprising that after the recent losses on the Dow Jones, stock pundits believe that a 7 to 10 per cent correction in share prices is at hand. "This is it", they say. The indexes have reached their targets and bulls are looking tired. Time for the market to take a break and fall lower.

The jury is still out whether this is a correction before markets test fresh high levels next year, or a gentle descent back to lower levels to reflect the awful state of the "real" economy in developed countries such as United States and Europe where unemployment is still growing and consumption remains tepid.

The only parallel with current trading patterns is October 2007, when a massive dose of liquidity injected by the US central bank with an interest rate cut — plus a plan by China, now shelved, to allow its investors to buy shares directly from overseas — caused share prices to surge to record high levels.

Of course, this time around, the swing up has been much higher, since the Fed not only cut interest rates to almost zero in March, but also printed around US$3 trillion to provide a cushion of support for the global financial markets.

China has been helpful too, giving out a US$500 billion economic stimulus package and getting its banks to lend generously.

But getting the Fed to print even more money may be tough — with the Europeans and Japanese complaining loudly about the systematic devaluation of the US dollar and the implicit threat by China to swap out of its large US dollar hoard.

As for China, both the stock market and the real economy look like over-heating from the economic stimulus measures and the fear is that it might have to tighten up, just as the Fed is forced to stop its printing presses.

Regional bourses like Hong Kong and Singapore are caught in a pincer between Wall Street and Shanghai. So it is no wonder that they have tumbled on the sudden barrage of bad news that suddenly seem to become the norm once again.

No wonder, there are cynics who believe that investment bankers on Wall Street and in London are stubbornly clinging on to the eye-popping bonuses due to them, despite the big storm of protests this has generated in the Western media.

Given all the fresh uncertainties, there might not be any huge bonuses to collect any more next year. After all, a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush; and paraphrasing Mr Jackson, they might say "This is it."

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 I LIKE cars. I like to drive, I like the look of them, I like the convenience; but I have no real idea of the difference between a V8 and a V12, or why I should prefer one over the other.

So, I'm not obsessed by cars, I don't LOVE them but strangely enough, one of my absolutely favourite TV shows has got to be BBC Two's Top Gear.

This is a show by boys, for boys and run somewhat like an adolescent male's perfect fantasy – before he's quite reached puberty though, as there's no skimpily-dressed pneumatic blondes on this show.

What makes Top Gear one of the most watched info-tainment shows around is the group of slightly dorky, middle-aged, funny blokes who host it – James May, Richard Hammond and Jeremy Clarkson.

Richard Hammond is probably most famous for being short, having blindingly white teeth and surviving an horrific crash while he was driving a jet-powered car for a segment in the show in 2006. The car was reportedly travelling at 300 miles per hour when the crash occurred.

James May, on the other hand, is more a traditionalist. He's been nicknamed 'Captain Slow' on the show, despite being a qualified pilot and having taken a Bugatti Veyron to its top speed of 253.45 mph; but he's basically the straight man for the other two presenters.

Jeremy Clarkson, however, is nominally the 'head boy' of Top Gear, known for his scathing hatred of the British Labour government, the environmental movement, speed limits and just about anything that stops him from driving very expensive cars, very fast, where ever he wants to.

Which is why his latest book, Driven to Distraction is so very, very funny. Clarkson has a very dry sense of humour with that particularly British ability to be self-depreciating and pompous at the same time.

This book, if you enjoy clever word usage and rubbishing stupid people and/or government policies, has "laugh out loud" moments on almost every page.

Driven to Distraction is a collection of Clarkson's columns for the Sunday Times newspaper where he's been writing since the 1990s, and as such follows a predictable format.

There's a semi-topical intro and lead-in to a description of a car, before a pronouncement of judgement. Generally the columns blend quite well, but some are obvious attempts to link one of his pet issues to a particular car review; still, they are all immensely entertaining.

Clarkson has a particular turn of phrase that offers a mix of public schoolboy enthusiasm with deliberate word-play. His dedication is a prime example: "To everyone who made my Range Rover. Well done, chaps. It's brilliant."

While I enjoy the humour, Clarkson's contempt for political correctness and his tendency to 'stir the pot', I'm not that interested in his detailed descriptions of particular car engines, gear boxes or top speeds.

Still, those sections are easily skipped over if you're not interested and the humour returns. The fact that the book is a collection of columns means that you can read it in convenient snatches of time – it's great for the bus or taxi.

Driven to Distraction will, in fact, make the perfect Christmas present for any male person in your life. I'll probably have to buy a number of them; this year it will be my gift-de-jour for male family members and friends.

Driven to Distraction by Jeremy Clarkson is published by Penguin imprint Michael Joseph and is available from good books stores and online.

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JUST about everyone who reads English has read Shakespeare's Macbeth. Whether in high school or college or university, or simply because you enjoy the Bard's works, Macbeth is one of his most read plays.

Taking just one line from the story – when Banquo and Fleance are ambushed, Banquo holds the assailants off and cries out: "Fly, good Fleance, fly, fly, fly! / Thou mayst revenge" – TK (Tania) Roxborogh has created the plot of her novel, Banquo's Son.

In most interpretations of Shakespeare's story, Fleance is an adult and, like his father, a captain in Macbeth's guard. It is Macbeth's fear that Banquo will somehow sire a line of kings for Scotland that leads to his death and the attempt to kill his son. However, Fleance escapes.

Roxborogh's story has Fleance as a child, escaping from the ambush on the back of his father's horse and carrying his father's sword. Fleance eventually comes upon a childless couple – Magness and Miri – who take him in and raise him as their own in England.

Fleance is 21-years-old at the beginning of Banquo's Son, and ready to fall in love, get married and settle down. He knows who he is, yet having no knowledge of current politics is scared to head back to Scotland, either to claim his heritage as a cousin to the King or renew old acquaintances.

However, Fleance is haunted by a ghostly figure and the words of his father – to seek revenge for his death. And when his beloved's father tries to push him into marriage, Fleance realises he must head back to the land of his birth.

What follows is a solid historical adventure story with princesses, a prince, witches, political machinations and Fleance's realisation that there's is more to being an adult than the ability to procreate and swing a sword.

Roxborogh's characters are genuine – both her historical personages and her created fictions – there is an honesty to her descriptions that both endear and delight the reader.

Fleance is not all 'golden hero', he's as bumbling as any young man of his age. The 'good guys' are not entirely good, nor the 'baddie' entirely bad. There is a sense of humanity about the people of Roxborogh's novel.

Banquo's Son has solid historical footings, but the meat of the story is in the relationships and emotions of her characters. There is also a surprising twist towards the end of the novel, but those who know their Scottish history won't be too surprised at the outcome.

For lovers of historical fiction, Banquo's Son is an interesting take on a period of history that has become much confused with Shakespeare's popular play. While, this novel isn't an academic portrayal, it is less histrionic and more realistic than the play.

Roxborogh is in the process of writing a linked story of sorts, Bloodlines, which will be published in 2010, so there's more to look forward to from a writer who offers an interesting take on such a popular story.

Banquo's Son by TK Roxborogh is published by Penguin Books and is available from good book stores and online.

Editor's note: The pronouns referring to the author TK (Tania) Roxborogh have been changed in order to correct a factual mistake. Appologies to the author.

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SOME people have all the luck. Charlotte Smith, for example, had the luck to be the goddaughter of Doris Darnell, a lovely lady who for many, many years has collected fabulous pieces of fashion.

She was, in fact, Charlotte Smith's "fashion" godmother, since Smith's luck, specifically, was to be the recipient of Ms Darnell's wonderful collection, which has now been turned into a lovely, wee book – Dreaming of Dior.

The book is populated by a collection of delicate illustrations from British artist Grant Cowan and each illustrated dress is teamed up with a description of the garment or its previous owner's experiences while wearing it.

As Smith says in the preface of Dreaming of Dior:

"Then, among the last of Doris' boxes, I found her catalogue notes – the notes of all her stories, of the dresses and the women who wore them. As I pored over Doris' words – her wit, wonder and wisdom – the true value of what I had been bequeathed hit home. This wasn't a mere collection of beautiful things, it was a collection of life. Women's lives."

With her realisation of the sociological importance of her godmother's collection, Smith decided to collate the garments and their matching notes together into this look at women across the years.

While the dresses and the stories of their formers owners are fascinating, the story of Doris Darnell is just as interesting, and quite obviously, just as important to Smith's decision to produce this book.

Mrs Darnell was a life-long Quaker, but she is also described by Smith as the "ultimate fairy godmother". "Tall, elegant, flamboyant and utterly charming, she was exotic and unpredictable in a thrilling way," writes Smith.

The collection covers garments from 1790 to 1995 and includes famous names like Lucile, Dior, Galanos and Jean Muir but also has handmade pieces from the women who wore the clothes. None of the garments were bought specifically for the collection but, rather, were donated by friends, family and acquaintances.

Some of the stories that accompany the images are touching – like that of Mrs Edmund Williams, another staunch Quaker, who in 1900 had made for herself a beautiful lime-green silk gown with striking black velvet trim; due to her strict religion she never wore the gown but said that the enjoyment it gave her was worth every penny spent.

Other stories are family ones where Smith talks about wearing dresses lovingly – and bravely, I would think – loaned to her by Mrs Darnell. On one such occasion Smith wore a 1950s pink ball gown for a wedding in Monte Carlo on the terrace of the Hotel de Paris and ended up meeting Prince Albert.

Smith also inlcudes the story of Mrs Darnell's favourite dress – a peach slipper satin ball gown that she wore the night she met her husband.

While each dress has a lovely anecdote attached, there could have been a bit more attention paid to the editing of the passages.

Yes, they are poignant, and presumably they have been published pretty much exactly as they were written, but there surely was at least Spellcheck run over them; which means that the author could also have taken time to double check style and tone.

For instance ball gown is written as two words, but also as one – "ballgown", there are some passages in first person, and others in third person voice.

It would also have been easier for the reader if each passage had a few details to tie the whole book together; for example the age of the dress, the designer, the former owner's name etc, all laid out for ease of use.

The contents could also have been grouped in chapters, perhaps by age of garments, or occasions or even alphabetically based on designers or even by colours.

The reasoning behind this desire for some sort of catalogue, is a concern that as a useful resource for historians and fashionistas, or even sociologists, there is no index to assist in picking out the right dress.

While Smith seems not to have been interested in presenting Dreaming of Dior as anything other than an homage to her godmother and her collection, it seems a crying shame that such an opportunity to turn this fabulous, and priceless, collection's information into a more user-friendly tome, has been lost.

Still, Dreaming of Dior is a must buy for anyone even vaguely interested in fashion. It is a detailed, if haphazard, look at more than 200 years of women's clothes; and it shows that fashion is as much about the lives of the women who wear it as it is about the styles themselves.

Dreaming of Dior by Charlotte Smith is published by HarperCollins and is available from good book stores and online.

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I HAVE to admit I'm not generally a lover of romance novels, or 'chick lit', or popular reads and, as such, tend to shy away from anything that's been talked about on Oprah or given a Woman's Weekly stamp of approval.

However, there is one author who I will forgive these tendencies – Cecelia Ahern, irish author of classic tear-jerkers like PS, I Love You (yes, the one that's been made into a film) and Where Rainbows End.

Even more annoyingly, Ms Ahern is also a former pop singer, rather pretty, has a sister married to a member of Westlife and is the daughter of a politician. So, in addition to being a writer of chick lit, I should despise her for her celeb status and refuse to read her books.

Problem is, Ahern's work is ridiculously good, particularly for her age. Her first novel, the aforementioned PS, I Love You, was number one in Ireland for 19 weeks, number one in the UK, US, Germany and even Holland. And she was only 21 when she wrote it!

Ahern manages to be romantic without being soppy; she has a modern – and obviously young – perspective of love and relationships, which has just as obviously managed to grab the zeitgeist and people's hard-earned cash.

In The Book of Tomorrow, Ahern's latest work, the central character is a young woman, Tamara Goodwin, who has been taken away from all she knows and dropped into rural Ireland with an odd aunt, a tumble-down castle and an annoyingly cheerful nun while her mother vegetates and appears to need some serious medication.

So far; so tear-jerker, right?

Not so. Tamara is horrible. She's a selfish, self-absorbed, arrogant rich-bitch girl-child who sees nothing wrong in spending the average person's weekly wage on a handbag. So, she's not a particularly sympathetic character, despite the fact that her father's just died and left Tamara and her mother destitute.

After all, it's not like they're out on the streets of Dublin, her aunt and uncle have taken them in and seem to be doing everything they can to help Tamara while her mother has a nervous breakdown in the Irish countryside.

Still, Ahern cleverly allows the reader to follow Tamara's inner monologue as she realises that she's in need of a heart and that she is really concerned about her mother's condition.

As Tamara begins to come to terms with her new life, she discovers a mysterious book – a book that will help her not only work out what's going on with her mother, but will also shed some light on a past that Tamara knows nothing about.

Plot spoiler coming up, so if you are planing to read The Book of Tomorrow, skip to the next paragraph. The book of the title is Ahern's touch of magic realism – much like the love letters of PS, I Love You, the book allows the character to move forward and, somewhat similarly, gives shape to the narrative. Without the book offering Tamara different versions of the future, she could just as easily have ended up as a dead-end character going nowhere. The trope is not particularly new, but it is cleverly handled and adds another dimension to what could have been a lack-luster 'coming of age' tale.

Right; so, the book is central to the overall plot, adding another layer of information to the novel which allows both the reader and Tamara to ask questions that move the plot along.

Again, like PS, I Love You, Ahern has managed to create characters that are both realistic and interesting. The plot twists about a bit and the supporting character's all come into their own. There is the obligitory family secret to unearth, a love interest, an embarrassing episode and some crazy people – just like everyone's life, right?

But what makes Ahern stand out from the crowd of chick lit novels is her thoroughly modern sensibility, a lovely turn of phrase and a cheeky sense of humour. You also get the impression that Ahern herself was either just like Tamara or knows girls exactly the same. There's a hint of 'insider story' in The Book of Tomorrow; particularly in the descriptions of clothes, cars, houses and lifestyles.

Still, even if Ahern comes from the same sort of privileged background, she just as obviously has grown up and away from the superficiality of celebrity; just as Tamara grows up and discovers there's more to life than a flash handbag.

The Book of Tomorrow is a guilty secret, I feel prepared to own up to. It's chick lit with life and humour and a great choice for your holiday read.

The Book of Tomorrow by Cecelia Ahern is published by HarperCollins and is available from good book stores and online.

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A PARADE of penguins and peacocks came to feast on Wednesday at this year's launch of The Miele Guide, an Asia-based restaurant guide.

The fashion, strictly black-tie for men and bejeweled gowns for women, suited the event fine. Regrettably, the food was far less stellar.

Which is sort of a downer, especially when The Miele Guide is trying to establish itself as a credible Asian alternative to restaurant-guide stars like the American Zagats and the French Michelin.

Now in its second edition, the annual handbook is backed by some of Asia's best-known restauranteurs and critics.

Among whom is Mr Aun Koh, director of the guide’s publisher Ate Media and the "hubby"-half of Singapore’s top food blog, Chubby Hubby.

Mr Koh told me at the event's after-party, held at Fullerton Hotel's Post Bar: "Zagats is more of a local guide; and Michelin's focus is on fine dining. With Miele, we're trying for the in-between."

That may explain the "in-between" food I tasted at the launch party, held in the hotel's ritzy Grand Ballroom.

The first course was a shrimp-artichoke veloute from Mr Takashi Kimura of the Saga Restaurant in Kuala Lumpur.

The veloute, a velvety white sauce, was rightfully flavorful but lacked restraint and drowned the artichokes.

Served a la dollop in a martini glass, the dish might have been better served as amuse-bouche, rather than starter.

The seared cod with seafood ragout that followed came from Mr Rahul Akerkar of Mumbai restaurant, Indigo.

Buttery flesh, crispy skin, a sweet-and-sour side.

It was okay. Or as my Uncle Bernie in Paris would say: "It was correct."

Two locally based chefs came next: Mr Diego Martinelli of Fullerton dressed up a grilled pork cheek with kai lan, pumpkin puree and ginger.

Ms Janice Wong of Holland Village's 2am:dessertbar, plated a colorful mix of guava, lemongrass and yuzu.

Altogether, the fare was fine, but uninspired. None of the above chefs made it into the guide's top 20.

Those who did were of expected pedigree.

Celebrated French chef Joel Robuchon took three honours: the first, third and 20th spots with his restaurants in Hong Kong, Macau and Tokyo.

His protégé Andre Chiang of Jaan par Andre at the Swissotel placed fourth.

Joining Mr Chiang from Singapore, Iggy's took home the silver. The fifth and seventh spots went to Les Amis and Gunther’s respectively.

The dinner might have made more of an impression had these chefs put on their aprons instead of tuxes for the evening.

But a meal of sub-20 standard is the least of what critics may question regarding The Miele Guide's judgement.

To compile the guide, Miele, a kitchen appliances giant in Germany, asked a team of 85 journalists in Asia to nominate which restaurants they thought were the best in their respective countries.

Ordinary, everyday customers were then invited to vote online among the 1,054 restaurants shortlisted.

A separate jury of 1,500 industry professionals cast their votes as well.

The guide's ambition to present to its readers a middle ground between specialist and general tasters is well-intentioned: Michelin is often criticized for serving an audience out of touch with the hoi polloi, while Zagats' reviews lack the authority of the industry’s tastemakers.

But there is a point to assembling a team of travelling experts, or having locals critique their city's restaurants.

The Miele Guide claims to be "Asia's first authoritative and independent" guide, but because its 450 shortlisted restaurants span 16 countries in Asia, only about 25 restaurants were personally visited by its writers.

Content for the other 425 restaurants was pulled together from reviews published elsewhere. That explains why none of them were scored.

As for being an authority in Asia, its take on restaurants in Japan – as one of the region's top culinary nations – comes up short.

Only three Japanese restaurants made it to the top 25.

The bias is understandable. When Michelin tried to give their famous stars to Tokyo's chefs last year, many were unimpressed, despite the French guide hiring a team of Japanese restauranteurs to serve as judges.

As a result, many excellent but tiny, two-table-type restaurants tucked away in Tokyo remain undiscovered – at least, by eager guide-toting tourists.

In a world where paperback guides are losing readers to the Internet, and consumers are increasingly wary of having taste dictated to them, one wonders how relevant The Miele Guide will be to today's everyday food enthusiasts.

For now, I think not at all.

Without a more persuasive survey methodology, or dedication to independent detective work, the guide's supporters will likely leave, as the men and women did their dinner tables at its launch, wanting more.

Editor's note: Yen Feng is a graduate of culinary arts at the Institute of Culinary Education in New York. He has dined at several top restaurants in New York, Paris and Singapore.

Correction: A previous version of this blog reported Chef Andre's first name as Adrian. Apologies.

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TWENTY-FIVE years after the publication of his breakthrough novel Mythago Wood, Robert Holdstock has returned to the world of Ryhope Wood to continue the story of the Huxley family.

It seems, in many ways, as though Holdstock has been waiting those 25 years for his characters to grow up; as though they are as real as he is.

Although there have been other books set in the mythical lands found in the centre of Ryhope Wood, Avilion is the actual sequel to the story that began in Mythago Wood.

Since so much of Avilion is based on the concepts and ideas that Holdstock developed in Mythago Wood, the first book is almost necessary to understand the reasoning and choices of the characters in Avilion.

Set in Herefordshire in England, Mythago Wood is based somewhat on the historical and mythical stories of the ancient Britons with dashes of Norse sagas and Greek legends mixed in. In genre it is a type of fantasy literature known as mythic fiction.

Mythago Wood won the World Fantasy Award for best novel in 1985, being acclaimed for the psychological and philosophical tangents that Holdstock used to explain the experiences of his characters.

After the traumatic end to the story – with brothers pitted against each other for the love of a mysterious and beautiful woman – Avilion opens much more gently.

The old wounds, both emotional and physical, that Steven Huxley suffered at the hands of his brother Christian have been mostly healed by the birth of his children – Jack and Yssobel – and his marriage to his beloved Guiwenneth.

Half human – red – and half mythago – green, the children are now young adults and as time passes their differences are becoming more marked.

Jack longs for the world of their father, Steven, he wants to visit the family home outside the wood, he wants to see the village that Steven has described to him; he wants to explore.

Yssobel seems more 'green' than Jack. Although she seems happy enough living in the valley at the centre of the mythical wood that created her mother, Guiwenneth of the Green, Yssobel is also searching for something more.

Unlike Jack, however, Steven's daughter is somehow caught up in the mystical and mythical history of her mother, a legendary Celtic princess, and a mysterious man whom only she seems to see. She too wants to leave the valley but not to head out into the world – Yssobel wants only to head deeper into the wood and the mysteries of the mythago.

As the children grow older, their mother seems to become less and less 'real', or more a part of her mythical world, isolating herself from Steven and spending days staring into the distance.

Guiwenneth's growing distraction angers Yssobel, who after fighting with her mother suddenly disappears. Concerned, Jack decides that the only person who can explain both his mother's fading from the world and Yssobel's whereabouts, is his grandfather.

But of course, there's a problem. George Huxley is actually dead; or dispersed into Ryhope Wood, which is one and the same. Grabbing onto the opportunity, Jack heads to Oak Lodge, his father's home, hoping to raise George's spirit and find the answers to his questions.

So starts an adventure that is part action story, part romance and part coming-of-age monologue. Avilion is an example of fantasy literature that uses imagined worlds to look more closely at our own.

The 'mythagos' of Holdstock's books are like literary versions of Freud's id, the uncoordinated instinctual trends of our minds, while their human counterparts perform the function of the ego - the organised realistic part of the psyche.

In the characters of Jack and Yssobel, Holdstock is attempting to show how a fully integrated person needs to be made up of both the id and the ego – the instinctual and the realistic – in order to function.

The question at the core of Avilion is whether or not this is possible. Are we all, like Jack and Yssobel, either too much id or too much ego? Are we unbalanced in our internal psyches?

Will Jack be able to integrate his love of his father's world – Oak Lodge and the village of Shadoxhurst – with his 'green' abilities? Will Yssobel's journey to discover the truth of her mother through time and history stop her from remaining a flesh and blood creature?

Avilion, like Mythago Wood before it, is not an 'easy' read. There are philosophical ideas, historical figures and a great deal of emotional angst in Holdstock's work. It is, however, a piece of fiction that is worth the label of literature.

While I personally have a few problems with some of Holdstock's symbolism and his simplistic choices, they don't need to take too much from your enjoyment of the novel.

Holdstock's decision to make the female characters all about emotion and instinct, beings that are wild and fickle like nature; while the men are all rational, logical, practical and violent; is a bit patronising in this day and age.

Still, Avilion is a worthy successor to Mythago Wood, and well worth the 25-year wait.

Avilion by Robert Holdstock is published by Gollancz and is available from good book stores and online.

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NOT that long ago a colleague told me that I looked like an adult version of Emily the Strange; something to do with my tendency to wear black I hope and not a reference to my possibly looking like a cartoon character.

For a minute I was a little confused as to who she was referring to, then I remembered seeing T-shirts, backpacks and notebooks emblazoned with a cartoon image of a girl in a black dress, severe bangs and an angry expression. Perhaps my colleague was referring to my angry expression rather than my penchant for black.

Only days later, ironically, Emily the Strange: The Lost Days turned up on my desk, complete with cartoon-gothic cats and the girl's angry stare on the front of it.

According to the font of all knowledge, Wikipedia, Emily the Strange is a creation of artist, Nathan Carrico. Carrico created Emily for Rob Reger, a skateboarder and founding member, along with race car driver Matt Reed, of Cosmic Debris, a clothing line.

The character apparently first appeared on a sticker that was given away at concerts, music stores and skate shops as a marketing tool. All this happened in 1991.

But... there's a bit of controversy to the arrival of Emily.

In 1978 a kid's book called Nate the Great and the Lost List included a very similar picture of a character called Rosamond. She had long black hair and a bunch of black cats as friends, and a number of other similarities.

When the people behind Rosamond, Marjorie Sharmat and Marc Simont, started to chase people who were doing business with Cosmic Debris, the owners of Emily the Strange sued them. Sharmat and Simont promptly sued back.

After a bit of too-ing and fro-ing, saying that Emily and Rosamond were 'in the tradition of similar characters' like Wednesday Adams, the two groups agreed to settle and stop suing each other.

Since then, nothing has been heard from Rosamond and Emily the Strange has gone from strength to strength. Emily the Strange is a franchise and there are at least four international stand-alone stores selling her distinctive merchandise – clothing, accessories, stationary and books.

Starting out as graphic novellas in 2001, there have been four books and four comics and now there's even a monthly, standard length series which has been published since March 2008. The Lost Days is the first in a series of four young adult novels that are being published by HarperCollins.

Presumably the idea is for Emily to 'grow up' with her fans – who were tweens or younger when she arrived, and are now in their late 20s – and so we get an Emily who is still a 'kid' but surrounded by older characters who may or may not be more mature.

Whatever the plan, The Lost Days is definitively an Emily the Strange book. There are plenty of drawings, quirky characters, bits of magic and science, mysteries and not-very-nice people, who aren't exactly 'badies' but more simply an oppositional force.

However, the reason I so enjoyed The Lost Days – and I did – was that Emily is perfectly capable of coping with everything that is thrown her way, including a nasty case of amnesia, rampant property speculation and mother nature.

She is the perfect role model for young girls – she's smart, feisty, capable, practical, caring, active and independent. She also doesn't care that much about fashion considering she really only has one dress.

Emily is, perhaps, a little odd (I really didn't want to use 'strange') but she allows all the other odd little girls – and not-so-little girls – out there to accept themselves as being just as interesting and important as those who are more mainstream.

While that may sound a little pop-psychology, it is particularly valid in this day and age when one reads reports of girls as young as 10 wanting plastic surgery or starving themselves to death to look like their favourite pop star.

As for the quality of the literature, The Lost Days is better than you'd expect. Written in first-person in a series of dairy entries sprinkled with drawings, maps and letters, the structure works well. Particularly if you have a reluctant reader or someone moving up to books from manga.

The plot is meaty enough to keep an adult entertained with twists, clues and mysteries, and the language is actually quite clever.

So, all hail Emily the Strange. Although she began as a marketing tool, her counter-culture heritage shines through just enough to make her an important part of popular culture and well-worth a read.

Emily the Strange, The Lost Days by Rob Reger and Jessica Gruner, illustrations by Rob Reger and Buzz Parker is published by HarperCollins Children's Books and is available at good book stores and online.

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IF FOR you the story of Raffles and the Japanese occupation are the only things you easily remember about Singapore's history, then getting your hands on Singapore, A 700-Year History: From Early Emporium To World City could change the way you perceive this island's past.

Penned by Mr Kwa Chong Guan, Professor Tan Tai Yong and Assistant Professor Derek Heng, this book is a local history lesson with a difference, with tales far removed from the standard fare drilled into us at secondary school.

For one, it debunks the notion that Singapore's history truly began only when Sir Stamford Raffles docked at the banks of the Singapore River in 1819.

Another oft-downplayed narrative the book highlights is one that falls between the 1820s and the 1930s — how Singapore gradually evolved from a maritime emporium dependent on East-West trade routes to a port serving the rich Malayan hinterland.

Rewritten too is Singapore's military history — instead of just harping on the Japanese Occupation, the book documents 150 years of how Singapore figured in the British Empire’s broader strategic concerns of defending its vast sprawl of colonies.

But the main draw has to be the bold attempt by the authors to pull back another 500 years of Singapore's history.

Singapore did not merely take a back seat to history between its heyday as a trading emporium in the 14th century, and the time Raffles set up a trading post at the Singapore River, they argue.

In fact, Singapore's "founding" in 1819 is detailed in Chapter 7 – almost halfway through the book.

After the rise of Melaka and the decline of Singapura as a thriving port by the 15th century, Singapore still figured heavily in the strategic considerations of first the Melaka Sultanate and then the Johore Empire.

It was one possible point of contention for the sparring Portuguese and Acehnese on one side, and the Dutch and Johoreans on the other, in the 16th and 17th centuries.

At different times, the Dutch and the Portuguese considered setting up forts on the island called present-day Singapore, but didn’t due to different economic or strategic reasons.

Malay, Portuguese and Dutch sources, and archaeological evidence from local sites such as Empress Place and the Old Parliament House, were consulted for this bold thesis.

These arguments have profound repercussions for the way the layman perceives local history: Let's not always study Singapore from a Singapore-based point of view, as an entity shaped by powerful individuals from within, trying to adapt and change according to external circumstances.

Instead, let's look at Singapore from the outside, as part of a larger network – be it economic, military, strategic, or colonial.

Let's look at Singapore as an entity whose destiny was shaped by external circumstances more than powerful individuals.

This book may be styled as a textbook, but don't be overawed – it's still a good read for every Singaporean who wants to know his country better.

And its fresh ideas might just stoke students' interest in local history.

Singapore, A 700-Year History: From Early Emporium To World City by Mr Kwa Chong Guan, Professor Tan Tai Yong and Assistant Professor Derek Heng is available from Kinokuniya, Popular Bookstore, MPH, Select Books, Times Bookstores and Harris Book Company.

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KUALA LUMPUR

WARNING - Eat here only if you are a fan of, or at the very least, are indifferent to opposition politics. Because if you do, you'll have a giant poster of the Democratic Action Party secretary-general Lim Guan Eng watching over you.

For that matter, opposition leader Anwar Ibrahim, too.

Welcome to the Rocket United Café in Petaling Jaya, the first café affiliated to the DAP. The rocket is the DAP's symbol.

'Jom, Ubah!': Enjoy your meal with a touch of political spice.
PHOTO: Carolyn Hong

As much about politics as it is about food, the cafe is partly owned by the DAP, or as the menu says, "licensed by the DAP". Members get a 10 per cent discount.

Walk in, and be greeted by a massive poster of Mr Lim and Mr Anwar acknowledging a ceramah crowd, with the opposition slogan "Jom, Ubah!" (Just Change it!) emblazoned on it.

Flip open the menu, and a photo of Mr Lim in handcuffs stares up at you as you peruse the offerings of nasi lemak, Sarawak laksa, char kuey tiaw, and more.

Mr Lim, now the Penang Chief Minister, was jailed in 1998 for sedition after he made certain allegations in relation to the case of an underaged girl who was said to have had an affair with a prominent Umno leader.

While deciding on the choice of coffee, you can read about DAP's history as a spin-off party of Singapore's PAP.

After eating, browse the rack of DAP merchandise from button badges to pens to books, and the party's newspaper Rocket. And if you have not registered yet as a voter, ask the cashier for help.

This must be first political café in town.

Former premier Tun Dr Mahathir Mohamad opened his Loaf café in Langkawi and KL some years ago, but that has nothing to do with politics at all. Actually, if you didn’t know that Dr Mahathir owned it, the only clue would be his favourite foods on the menu, if you knew what those were.

Politics is so much a part of Malaysian life that there is hardly any sphere that politics hasn’t got its toehold in. So why not food?

It is certainly innovative, tapping into the thirst for politics that grew after the 2008 general election turned everything topsy turvy.

Oh yes, I almost forgot! The food at United Rocket Café? It consists of a wide range of Malaysian hawker favourites, and they were actually quite good.

Pretty inexpensive for Petaling Jaya, too. What will they think of next?

United Rocket Café is located along Jalan SS2/63, Petaling Jaya, Malaysia.

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