Samantha Brown – Southeast Asian-based journalist and editor

By Michael Ondaatje
Sri Lankan-born Anil, whose name she bought from her brother when she was a young, famous swimmer, and who has studied in the UK and the US, returns to her war-torn homeland as a forensic anthropologist investigating human rights crimes. Sri Lanka is a mess, and the lives of its people are messier, eked out in the shadow of murder, mayhem and distrust. Anil’s investigative partner is the anthropologist Sarath, whose connections in the government arouse uneasy suspicion in Anil. The pasts of Anil, Sarath and those they have loved and love are unravelled in lyrical snapshots at a masterful pace, and are entwined with the geography and spiritualism of a country slowly falling apart. Ondaatje has written a novel about his country of birth that is less gripping than The English Patient – the unfortunate comparisons are inevitable – but more political and realistic. Paradoxically, the realism is revealed more sharply under that veil of breathlessly romantic and poetic prose that only Ondaatje can get away with.

Edited by Richard Olney

This finely-photographed book is food pornography at its most sophisticated. It’s both more and less than a true cook book, with theoretical and practical information taking up the bulk of the book, and a recipe section with directions that need a good reading through before you start as they can be a bit cursory. You’ll find in this book all you could possibly want to know about peeling chestnuts, larding beef, preparing polenta, filleting fish, and truly everything in between. Absolutely not for the vegetarian – that v-word isn’t even in the index, and the photos of flesh are quite graphic. The downer buying it in Thailand is its Eurocentrism – it’s not exactly useful to know when to hunt red deer here, for instance – but on the other hand after one too many pad thais the voyeurism its glossy pages invite becomes that much more delicious, and there are plenty of recipes you can still give a go. The aim of the book is to “give wings to the reader”: indeed browsing through is enough to make you toss in your electric wok and make a beeline to the nearest stove store.

By Vikram Seth
Michael is a violinist in a string quartet in London. He lives a quiet life with music being his greatest joy – he simply can’t forget the woman he loved and abandoned while he was a student in Vienna ten years ago. A chance sighting of Julia on a distant London bus brings the memories tumbling back; she eventually turns up at one of his concerts, and from there they salvage a friendship and their love. But two major events have happened to Julia between their meetings – marriage, and Seth masterfully reveals exactly what else just when the reader is beginning to think either Julia or the author is a little mad. The intimate and almost incestuous world of classical musicians is captured beautifully in this novel. The character of Julia, however, is perhaps not sufficiently developed to make the reader empathise with Michael’s obsessive love for her. Ultimately, however, the book is a success with Seth crafting a careful, intriguing tale of lives structured so tightly around music that little else except love – and often even that secondarily – exists.

The Bodyguard’s Story
By Trevor Rees-Jones

Who would bother to read this review?

Let’s face it: if you’re into the British Royals, you’ll be into Princess Diana and you’ll remember precisely where you were when you heard about her death and burst into tears. And you’ll definitely buy The Bodyguard’s Story because it’s the tale told by the sole survivor of the car crash that killed the Princess way back in August 1997. There might be details in it you haven’t already read in the British tabloids or Who Weekly.

On the other hand, if you’re not into the Royals, you may still remember where you were when you heard about the Princess’ death, but chances are you didn’t burst into tears. You probably didn’t read about the tacky speculations concerning her alleged impending marriage to Dodi Al Fayed, also killed in the crash, and you definitely wouldn’t have followed the conspiracy theories that inevitably flourished after the funerals. You won’t be interested in this book. I’m surprised you’ve read the review this far.

And then I suppose there are those who could take a purely academic interest in the way the Western world has grieved and dealt with the death of one of its most popular twentieth century icons. If this is your pigeon-hole, you may find some snippets in the book useful for theorising about further aspects of Diana-ism.

While I wouldn’t cast myself entirely in either the iconoclastic or academic camps, I should at least confess to being an Australian republican. I was glad hardly anyone turned up to see our irrelevant Queen and hubby when they recently toured Australia. There is, therefore, no way I would have read this book by choice. “You’re not going to take that out in public are you?” my concerned partner asked when I opened it to start reading one evening. My allegiances are thus declared.

So of course there are plenty of issues I had with this book. One of the first was the title, and the cover of the edition released in Thailand. ‘The Bodyguard’s Story’ is printed above a picture of Trevor Rees-Jones hovering over the shoulder of Princess Diana. So he was her bodyguard, right? Actually, not really. Only because she was in the company of Dodi Al Fayed, son of British wannabe Mohamed Al Fayed, who actually employed Trevor. Trevor was one of Dodi’s bodyguards.

Also worth noting is that Trevor hasn’t written the book. It’s another minor point, there being plenty of ghost writers or co-authors helping people with stories to tell out there. Trevor’s chosen Moira Johnston, whose name might ring a bell to someone from the UK (but certainly not from Australia), to order his thoughts for him, and interview Trevor’s family, friends and colleagues about pre- and post-crash events with his blessing. And Johnston does do a passable job in the third person rendering of a story with seemingly endless players.

Trevor does make a statement in the first person – ‘Trevor’s Statement’ – as a sort of prologue to the book. In it, he reveals, “I can’t remember the crash itself, or the three minutes before it. My memory’s gone for everything that happened after the car pulled away from the Ritz until I woke up in hospital ten days later.” Right. No compelling new information will be revealed in the next 318 pages. At least we’re not going to be kept in suspense.

But this book is an opportunity for Trevor, who is painted as a very normal British bloke who likes a beer and his rugby, to tell his side of the crash story, and also “an honourable way to let me pay my large legal bills”. The importance of the former can be understood when you get an idea of the how abominably the British and American press behaved after the crash. Indeed, the persistence and downright bad manners of the paparrazzi that Trevor describes as they pursued Diana and Dodi in the months leading up to their deaths were bad enough. It was his turn to have complete untruths published about his life when he became the survivor.

Trevor gave only one disastrous interview – for which he was not paid – after the crash, despite being offered loads of cash for another. And good on the principled lad for hanging out to put it all in a book. As it turns out, if it wasn’t for the Diana connection and the wranglings that went on with Al Fayed after the crash, the tale would be a merely pedestrian story about a person surviving a horrific car crash.

In fact, even with the Diana connection and Al Fayed’s wranglings, it’s really just a story about a person surviving a horrific car crash. The descriptions of the surgery performed to rebuild Trevor’s face, which was flattened akin to a pancake in the crash, were intriguing, if a bit brief.

Another interesting point that could have been developed if this was ever going to turn into a Pulitzer for Johnston was the issue of memory-loss. This is quite central to the story, as Al Fayed placed enormous pressure on Trevor to remember the three minutes prior to the crash, and got rather upset and vindictive when he couldn’t. One expert gives a brief explanation about the mechanics behind memory, but this could have been expanded somewhat and even replaced having to hear more about Ernie the stepdad’s trip to the pub to have two pints or Jill, Trev’s long-suffering Mum, not being able to concentrate on her work.

I do wish Trevor well with his rugby. I hope he has already made enough money to cover his legal bills with the book. Truly. Because that would mean I needn’t feel bad about suggesting you don’t even think about buying this book by a very normal English lad.

By Loung Ung
This powerful narrative describes the true experiences of a child who suffers at the hands of the Khmer Rouge. When Loung is five-years-old the regime takes Phnom Penh, and she and her family are forced to flee into the countryside where they are vigilant in keeping their middle-class past secret. Eventually her father is taken away by soldiers, ostensibly to help fix an ox cart: he never returns. Other members of Loung’s family suffer similar fates, while, under incredible circumstances, some of them manage to survive near-starvation until the Vietnamese arrive to liberate them. Loung, her brother and sister-in-law risk death yet again to escape to Vietnam and then Thailand, where they are given passage to the US. This book is shocking in its very simple, even dispassionate descriptions of horrific events, particularly realising that they are the memories of a child. What this book makes very clear is that the genocide of up to two million Cambodians by the Khmer Rouge is not the surprising fact: given their utter brutality, the amazing fact is that anybody managed to survive at all.

First They Killed My Father
By Loung Ung

This book is a gripping tale about the experiences of a child who spent far too much of her childhood growing up under the brutal Khmer Rouge regime. No human being, let alone a child, should have had to endure what somehow Loung managed to; this book is a testament to her amazing spirit.

And also to the spirit of the Cambodian people. As Loung writes in her author’s note: “Though these events constitute my experience, my story mirrors that of millions of Cambodians. If you had been living in Cambodia during this period, this would be your story, too.”

By the end of the book, you will be very glad that it isn’t.

When Loung Ung is just five-years-old the Khmer Rouge take Phnom Penh, and herd the population out into the surrounding countryside. Loung and her mother, father and six brothers and sisters, who have lived a very middle-class existence in Phnom Penh, are also forced to flee.

Loung’s father was a Cambodian Royal Secret Service officer under Prince Sihanouk, and despite eventually moving into business, he was conscripted into the service of the Lon Nol government. The family must therefore be vigilant in keeping their middle-class past a secret.

While moving from village to village in the earlier days they are successful at least in this endeavour. But eventually, like so many other men, her father is taken away by soldiers, ostensibly to help fix an ox cart. He never returns.

The book documents the rest of the family’s efforts simply to survive. Loung’s brother Kim risks his life to scour bountiful fields and steal corn destined for the soldiers of the Khmer Rouge, or for China – but not for the stomachs of the Cambodian people. Loung’s mother eventually insists that her remaining children leave her hut and walk in different directions, pretending to be orphans when they find the next village or camp. She is afraid that soldiers will return to kill them all, as they have started to kill remaining survivors in other families. The regime fears that their anger could cause an uprising.

Loung first ends up in a camp for orphanages, and then one where children are trained as soldiers. She is here when the Vietnamese liberate Cambodia, but her battle is far from over. Loung, one of her brother’s and her sister-in-law risk death yet again to escape to Vietnam and then Thailand, where they are finally given passage to the US where they can begin to rebuild what’s left of their lives.

First They Killed My Father is not a literary materpiece – it’s foremost intention is to share with readers what happened under the regime in one of the provinces that was renowned for being the most harshly-run by the Khmer Rouge – but it is unputdownable and lyrical in a very unique way.

The style of writing is minimalist, and shocking in its almost dispassionate descriptions of unspeakable events. Just one example can be given when Loung is huddling next to her friend during Khmer Rouge bombing of the village they are staying in following the Vietnamese liberation.

A rocket hits their shelter: “I reach for Pithy’s arm, then jerk my hand back as my palm touches something wet and sticky. My stomach churns. I turn to see Pithy lying facedown on the ground, quiet and motionless. The top of her skull is caved in. A pool of blood slowly seeps into the dirt around her head.” A few more sentences and Pithy is hardly mentioned again. There is plenty of other horror to take her place.

This work could be the very welcome beginning of more personal works about survivors’ experiences under the regime. To date, most of the recommended texts for those interested in the history of the Khmer Rouge and the people who suffered under them have been academic and scholarly in nature. This book is an important addition to that body of work in that it is written by a survivor.

Loung’s narrative is made all the more powerful not only by the fact that it is a painfully true story, but that it recalls in great detail what a five-year-old child suffered at the hands of a bloodthirsty, ideologically- fanatical regime.

It is timely, given the current debate about whether a war crimes tribunal should be held in Cambodia, although the author doesn’t give any opinions on modern day Cambodian politics.

And it will be timeless by virtue of the fact that there will always wars, both civil and international, in far flung and not-so-far-flung places across the globe – and it will always be defenceless, innocent children who suffer immeasurably. This book gives them a voice.

Make sure you listen.

By Salman Rushdie

Rushdie’s latest novel is a sprawling yet finely-crafted tale of the love between the most famous rock’n’roll couple history has ever seen, Indian British then American expats Vina Aspara and Ormus Cama. Penned by photographer Rai, the second-fiddle lover of Vina, the novel simultaneously mocks and eulogises popular culture. Test your modern cultural history as Rushdie melds fact with fiction and weaves recognisable real-life characters into his prose. This creates a multi-layered book where you might know who the various cameos really are (for instance ‘Primo Uomo’ is perhaps a reference to Umberto Eco) but if you don’t , it won’t detract from your enjoyment of the rest of the show. Rushdie’s enthusiasm for the quirks and twists of language can be exhausting, and at times the plot takes a backseat to the wonders of English. The book is worth reading alone however for his brilliance at capturing any accent – particularly French – to perfection. This is the sort of tome you could take away with you every second holiday to reread with as much pleasure as the original.