Review: Bruised by Sarah Skilton

Bruised, by Sarah Skilton, is a tender story about sixteen-year-old Imogen, a Taekwondo black belt, who has just witnessed an attempted robbery that resulted in the would-be mugger’s death. After getting covered in his blood, Imogen tries to find – really, re-find – herself and understand her relationship to those around her.

Ms. Skilton’s novel was brought to my attention by a friend (also a writer) because the teenage protagonist is a black belt in Taekwondo and is trying to come to terms with her place in the world. My debut novel, Back Kicks And Broken Promises, which came out about a year before Ms. Skilton’s, is also about a teenage Taekwondoist trying to come to terms with his place in the world. Although the circumstances around their uncertainties are very different, it is through Taekwondo training that they come to some kind of conclusion. And, it is because of that that Bruised is a book that needed to be written and needs to be read.

Too often, books and movies about martial arts are about some kind of superhero or cop or spy battling against super villains as he or she tries save to the world. Bruised, on the other hand, deals with martial arts and the martial artist in a real way. Most of us who practice martial arts (I am a 28 year Taekwondo practitioner with a sixth degree black belt) will never battle any kind of villain, let alone a super one, while trying to save the world we live in. But we do fight. We combat those things in our own lives that infect our hearts and minds - villains like fear, uncertainty, arrogance, laziness - that challenge us every day. Ms. Skilton depicts this side of martial arts expertly and honestly, the way only someone who’s experienced it can. And, Ms. Skilton has, having earned her own Taekwondo black belt. Moreover, she presents an honest depiction of a teenager. Martial artist or not, Imogen is a typical teenager going through the common, but individually unique, set of trials and tribulations that come with dealing with family members during adolescence, the changing dynamic of best friends, and finding romance for the first time.

Another reason why I recommend Bruised is because it shows Imogen battling with the meaning of her black belt and the reliability of her fighting skills. This was particularly interesting to me for two reasons: 1. Back Kicks, in its early drafts, started out with that as its central theme and 2. speaking again as a martial artist, that’s something we all question at some point in our martial arts lives. Ms. Skilton organically puts Imogen in a situation that makes her question her years of training and her attempts to find answers and the resolution that Ms. Skilton puts Imogen through are nicely presented and true to the principles of what all martial arts teach. There is nothing cliché or predictable in how Imogen finds her place.

As a longtime and lifelong martial artist, there were two instances of inaccuracy in Bruised that made me crumple my nose. As a writer of fiction, however, I was able to sidestep them under the guise of literary license. I won’t point them out, however, leaving them for other martial artists who read Ms. Skilton’s book to find. Truly, they don’t really affect the story. Other martial artists will discover them, cringe for a second and be done with it. It’s when non-martial arts people read them and take them, perhaps, as fact that is my minor concern. As an experienced martial artists herself, however, Ms. Skilton may have intentionally added them as an illustrative device; depicting how teenagers, even though they may be knowledgeable and adept at something, still get things wrong. Heck, even adults do.

To end this review, I’d like to thank Ms. Skilton. I enjoy those ‘bang bang’ movies and stories about superhero martial artists and spies who have great martial arts skills. But, as I mentioned earlier, most martial artists don’t get to use their skills that way. Ms. Skilton successfully presents martial arts in their true light. While there are some really well written action scenes in Bruised, it’s Imogen’s use of the mental and emotional arsenal she’s attained that are the best and most rewarding scenes. Bruised is a book for those who like a little action in the stories they read, those who enjoy a good YA coming-of-ager, and those who like an internal, more literary, kind of story.

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On a separate note, I couldn’t help from smile throughout my reading of Bruised because of the coincidental similarities between Ms. Skilton’s novel and my own. Imogen’s Taekwondo master is Grandmaster Huan. The grandmaster in Back Kicks And Broken Promises is Grandmaster Han. One of the main characters, what I like to call the ‘sub-protagonist’ or ‘second protagonist’ is Imogen’s love interest, Ricky. The protagonist in my book is also called Ricky. And, lastly, Imogen refers to and uses the character rules from Grandmaster Huan’s dojang (Taekwondo school) to help her understand what’s going on around her; mantra that guide her way of life and how she interacts with friends, family members, and teachers, and how she is supposed to behave in all sorts of situations. Perhaps it’s the nature of Taekwondo, more than other martial arts, because in all the arts I’ve studied Taekwondo is the only one in which some set of rules are recited at the start of every class. In my school and in my book, they’re called Mental Training and Ricky, the protagonist of Back Kicks And Broken Promises, refers to them constantly.

 

Mr. Lessmore

 

Mr. Lessmore

I run an after school Creative Writing class at my school. I have four students and we meet Mondays from 3:15pm to 4:15pm. We meet in the library and, last Monday, the librarian had to leave early so she asked me to lock up. As she left, she turned to me and said, “Juan, you’re in charge. Take care of the books.”

I’ve locked up the library before but that was before I learnt that she’s retiring. And, the last time I locked up, I had a full class and the five of us walked out together. This time, however, only one of my four turned up and he had to leave fifteen minutes early. Already committed to being there, I decided to remain and do some writing of my own for another half an hour or so.

When I decided to go, I had to shut a window, turn off three electric fans and make sure the door was locked. It’s silly - maybe -  but I felt the spirit of Mr. Lessmore as I did what was tasked of me. Libraries are already quiet places but with the doors shut, the noise from the fans gone and with no one else in the room or even in the school’s hallways, the silence seemed even quieter. To be honest, that kind of dominating silence has, in other situations, intimidated and even scared me. This time, I felt safe. It was like I was among friends. And, of course, as corny as this is going to sound, my friends were the books. That’s when and how I felt like I was playing the role of Mr. Lessmore. The librarian had left and, albeit briefly, I was in charge of the books that surrounded me.

With that duty, that responsibility, I couldn’t help but smile.

If you don’t know who Mr. Lessmore is read and watch The Fantastic Flying Books of Mr. Morris Lessmore. It’s by William Joyce and is, for me, the quintessential piece of work that defines every lover of books. It’s a beautiful story that is about how important reading AND writing are and how important it is to cherish what has been written and to share it; that books can - and do - literally and figuratively shape and colour our lives.

So, for a brief moment last Monday, I got to be a kind of Mr. Morris Lessmore. I got to be the hero in one of my favourite books.

When was the last time your life imitated art or made you think that you were playing a part in a book, movie, play, painting; whatever it is that you’d recently seen and/or consider one of your favourites? Whenever it was - or going to be - I hope it’s as special to you as mine was to me.

Anxious About Awards

Today, June 1, 2013, IndieReader will be announcing the winner of its 2013 Discovery Awards (IRDA) at Book Expo America. And, as ridiculous as it sounds, I'm anxious - even nervous - about it. Last March, my book, Back Kicks And Broken Promises, earned a four (out of five) star review from IndieReader. After corresponding with the reviewer, I was told that my novel stands a strong and legitimate chance at winning IRDA so, heck, I decided to enter. To quote her review, Back Kicks is "an insightful and pertinent novel" that is "full of multi-cultural details." You never know, right? Someone's book is going to win. Why not mine?

So, I don't know if what I'm feeling is appropriate or if I'm fooling myself into believing my book is worth more than it is. After all - and I think it'd be fair to say this is true of most writers - I don't write with the goal of winning a prize. I write to tell a story; to entertain, educate, support, inspire. (Whether I've done any of that is for readers and reviewers to decide.) But, it's funny how my competitive spirit, nurtured from years of being a high school athlete, Taekwondo competitor and coach, has come out. I won't be devastated if I don't win but I'll be bummed, if for nothing else, because of the lost potential of my book to gain further exposure and for my writing career to gain some (more) momentum. But, I suppose, that'll just mean plugging away through other avenues and knocking on other and different doors to promote my work. 

For whoever wins, assuming it's not me, I give you an early congratulations. As a fellow indie, I'll be supporting you work. For me, in the meantime, it's back to the keyboard as I write my WIPs.

Food Blogging

So, I've decided to create a new identity - Panlasa - and begin food blogging. Panlasa is Tagalog for 'taste' or 'flavour.' I'm not a professional restaurant critic and I'm not a trained cook (I was going to say 'trained chef' but that just sounded like I believe in my cooking talents a little too much) but, as someone who does like to cook and eat, I do have thoughts on food. And, what's a blog if not someone's thoughts expressed out loud, so to speak, and in a public forum.

For the little that it's worth, I'm not just another so-and-so with an opinion (As the saying goes, "Opinions are like a**holes. We all have one."). I've always been a foodie. In secondary school, during my first form, we had what was called Domestic Science. Here in the United States, it's called Home Ec. I thoroughly enjoyed it, as simple as it was, but it fully ignited my interest in cooking. The following couple of years, we had our first taste (haha!) at choosing electives. There were classes like Plastics, Woodworking, Metal Work, Sowing, Domestic Science. I recall choosing DS, as we nicknamed it. 

My interest in food, as far as cooking and being creative in the kitchen, probably comes down to one of my sisters, my mother and my father. During our childhood, my sister had all sorts of Mary Quant items and I believe one of them was some kind of paper dolls set and recipe/activity book. I was really young so my recollection of these things might be a bit clouded but, among those things, was some kind of recipe that had to do with corn flakes, melted chocolate/chocolate sauce and cupcake wrappers. The simplicity of melting the chocolate and mixing in the corn flakes and placing a dollop into each cupcake wrapper seemed, at the time, such an amazing thing. We had followed the recipe and created a quick and tasty treat.

My father, during a time when my mother, brother and sisters were in The Philippines and my father and I were in Hong Kong, was a wiz in the kitchen. Memories of him making simple instant noodles - what I grew up calling 'Poison Noodles' - with sliced fish and shrimp balls still brighten my thoughts. Sliced Chinese sausage with sticky winter rice, something he'd make on a Sunday after church,  trips to the noodle shops for beef cartilage with noodles, stops at the street vendors (the dai pai dong) for steamed cuttlefish and congee definitely informed my love for food, making it and the kinds of flavours that really wake up my palate. In fact, these memories I have of my father make me think of the opening scene from the movie "Eat, Drink, Man, Woman" and that opening scene makes me think of my father and, whenever I see that scene, it makes me run to the market, buy up some meats and veggies and other things and conjure up something in the kitchen.

And, then, there's Ma. When we lived in Hong Kong, and even during the first couple of years after moving to the United States, we used to host a couple of parties a year. In Hong Kong, we usually had a Christmas Day event and a New Year's event, replete with roast turkey, glazed ham, macaroni salad, rice, you name it. The turkey, too, was filled with my mother's chestnut-bread stuffing. Back then, we'd have to but the chestnuts from the street vendors in Causeway Bay, in that area between The Excelsior Hotel and Daimaru. In preparation for the parties' feasts, I'd helped peel the chestnuts and mash them down for the stuffing. I'd help with the table settings, placing cloves on the ham, whatever was needed.

So, my love for food and cooking has some foundation.  And, you can read about what I've learnt and experimented with food, as well as try some of my favourite recipes in my new blog, called, Panlasa. I hope to see you there.

Favourite Sports Movies

I happened to come across "For Love of the Game" on TV yesterday and, of course, I got sidetracked watching it. For those of you unfamiliar with it, it's kind of the closing chapter in the Kevin Costner trilogy of baseball movies; "Bull Durham" and "Field of Dreams" being the other two in the 'series.' (I refer to them as a trilogy because I'd read them referred to that way in another article, although I don't know if Mr. Costner planned on making them as such.)

 

I love "For Love of the Game and I'm not even a baseball fan. I love it because it portrays the story of Billy Chapel, an aging but talented pitcher on an underachieving team, pull off the perfect game against the New York Yankees. The fact that he wins against the Yankees - a team that, even though I'm not a baseball fan, I still manage to dislike - adds to my enjoyment of the movie. (Sorry Roger.) More than Chapel's achievement, however, I love the movie because at the time I first saw it, in my early thirties, it posed a question - a challenge, if you will - inside me. It asked me what great thing am I going to achieve and how am I going to be remembered when my glory days are over and/or long gone and I'm six feet under. Costner's character is forty when he pulls off the perfect game. I'm forty-four now so, watching it yesterday, the movie had a different kind of impact, a deeper and more pressing one, on me. Like I said, in my thirties, it made me ask "What am I going to achieve?" Today, it asks "What have I achieved?"

 

When I saw this movie as a younger man, combinations of emotions stirred inside me - at different parts of the film and as the credits rolled. Yesterday, I felt the same emotions although some of them in differing degrees than I did fourteen years ago. I laughed, I cringed, I cried. I could go into an entire blog about why I felt the emotions I did and how I feel about what they represent but, ultimately, as far as movies go, the fact that I felt the same emotions yesterday as I did when I first saw it - and every time in between - means that "For Love of the Game" is a fantastically good movie.

 

After composing myself, I started to think about other sports movies I've seen and what strong feelings they've aroused inside me that get stirred every time I watch them. There are a lot of sports movies - and classic ones, at that - I've yet to see. I've not seen "Brian's Song" from start to finish, I'm ashamed to admit but, from the ones I have seen, here's my top ten. They're listed in order with my favourite at number one, with the year they came out and the name of one of the main actors in parentheses.

 

1. Chariots of Fire (1981; Ben Cross)

2. Rocky V (1990; Sylvester Stallone)

3. For Love of the Game (1999; Kevin Costner)

4. The Karate Kid (1984; Ralph Macchio)

5. The Hustler (1961; Paul Newman)

6. Jericho Mile (1979; Peter Strauss)

7. Best of the Best (1989; Eric Roberts)

8. Victory (1981; Michael Caine)

9. Warrior (2011; Tom Hardy)

10.Draw - Rocky II (1979; Sylvester Stallone) and Running (1979; Michael Douglas)

 

 

What are your favourite sports movies?

 

Thanks for stopping by.

Uncle Sam

Like many readers and writers, I subscribe to The New York Times, in large part, because of its weekly Book Review. In addition to reading through it, I listen to the weekly podcast. It's a great podcast. There are author interviews and/or interviews with the reviewers of the weekly book selections and those reviewers are often best-selling authors themselves. There's a segment on what's happening in the industry ("Notes From The Field") and the podcast usually ends with the "Bestseller News." I listen to the podcast because it's entertaining, it makes me feel like I'm enjoying a New York artsy/literary lifestyle (I live in New Jersey) - albeit for just a half hour or so - and because it keeps me updated on what's going on with books and such. As a reader, I like to be informed. As a writer, I feel I have to be. Moreover, the repartee between the podcast host and his regular contributors feels like you're in the living room, at a holiday gathering, listening to your uncles and aunts; and that would be your favourite uncles and aunts.

I'll confess that I listen, also, because, as a novelist, I've occasionally dreamt of being featured in the print edition of the Times' Book Review and of being interviewed on the podcast by the host himself. I doubt I'm the only one who's fantastised about this. Anyway, the host retired recently and, while I do enjoy the new host and her style, I can't help from feeling like I've lost a favourite uncle and that my dream of being interviewed by him, as far-fetched as that was, is long gone. (Having said that, however, if I'm ever given the chance to be interviewed and featured in the podcast and if that interview is being conducted by a blind, deaf and mute chimpanzee, I'll take it. It's The New York Times Book Review, for crying out loud!)

Before I continue, I must say that this host's departure isn't the first time I've felt his way. The last time this same dream of being interviewed by a major outlet for my writing went up in smoke was when Steve Bertrand quit the Barnes and Noble Meet The Writers series. That time, just a few years back, however, was a little different from this one. Since I last checked, there haven't been any new MTW episodes since Mr. Bertrand's departure so I believe the show lowered its curtains altogether and that it wasn't just a case of Mr. Bertrand leaving.

With The New York Times podcast, I'm talking, of course, about Sam Tanenhaus. He's charismatic, intelligent, jocular and genuine and I get that merely by listening to him. I've never met the man. After nine years of hosting the podcast, which I've listened to since 2006, he's off to write about politics, still with The New York Times. I was never really drawn to politics growing up but as I've gotten older, worrying about health insurance, job security, immigration laws (I'm an immigrant and so is my wife) and other such matters, I've paid more attention to it the last ten years or so than I have before. And, with Barack Obama becoming president in 2008, I've paid still more attention to politics. Obama's warm and caring "let's look out for one another" platform and his strong ties to Asia, and what that means for me as an American citizen, I finally felt a sense of Americanism inside me that I hadn't felt since acquiring US citizenship in 1987. Back to Mr. Tanenhaus. If he's going to be writing on politics in America, I may follow it even more. Politics, for me, can be dryer than....I was about to go into some locker room humour but I won't. It can be dry. With Mr. Tanenhaus on the beat, I doubt it'll stay that way.

So, thank you Mr. Tanenhaus. I've enjoyed listening to you and I will continue to listen to the podcast. Those following you have large shoes to fill. Best of luck in your new endeavour.

Dead Words

po·lit·bu·ro\ˈpä-lət-ˌbyu̇r-(ˌ)ō, ˈpō-lət-, pə-ˈlit-\
noun
: the principal policy-making and executive committee of a Communist party
Origin: Russian politbyuro, from politicheskoe byuro political bureau.
First use: 1925

I got the above defintion from the Merriam-Webster Dictionary app I have installed on my iPad and the word came across my radar a couple of weeks back. It was a lazy Sunday and one of the premium movie channels (I think it was HBO) was having, starting at around 7 or 8 in the morning, a Rocky marathon. With the exception of "Rocky Balboa," the second conclusion of the series that came out in 2006, all the Rocky movies were shown in their entirety and in order from Rocky all the way to Rocky V. And one of the cool things about the marathon was that, being in New Jersey, if I missed the showing on my time, I could watch it again on the west coast channel. I grew up with the Rocky movies and, in many ways, they depict the evolution of my generation. On an even more personal note, some of the movies relate to major events in my life so they possess extra special significance.

In Rocky IV, Sylvester Stallone's hero goes to the USSR to train in a secluded mountainous countryside that looks like it's been hit with one blizzard after another. He's there because Ivan Drago, played by Dolph Lundgren, killed Apollo Creed, one of Rocky's best friends and his opponent in Rocky and Rocky II. Creed, coming out of retirement, dies in an exhibition bout against Drago. Before the ding of the round one bell, Creed comes out to James Brown singing "Living In America" and he's dressed up in a George Washington wig, Stars and Stripes trunks with back up dancers who are similarly jingoistically clad.

In various training montage scenes, there are shots of Drago being injected with something -steroids - and the entire movie is about the good west (represented by Rocky and the USA) battling the evil east (represented, of course, by the USSR). Juxtaposed with Drago's performance enhancing drug workouts are Rocky's all natural exercises. Instead of an Olympic bar stacked with forty-five pound plates, as Drago uses, Rocky lifts an old horse cart (minus the horse) with his trainer, wife and brother-in-law sitting in it. So, not only is the movie about the 'big bad Soviet Union,' it's a commentary on the stories of eastern bloc athletes doping in the international sports scene. In the final bout, as Rocky goes on to win, Drago refers to his opponent as a machine and Rocky shows the kind of indomitable spirit needed to win against all odds. After Rocky wins, he goes on to make a speech - an olive branch, of sorts, by the filmmakers - that says it's better that only he and Drago are bashing each other in and how that's better than two nations going at it. He also says how, through the bout, many of the 99.9% Soviet audience started cheering for him and if they can change and he can change so, too, can the whole world.

USA vs USSR of course, was the big deal in the 1980s. From the 1980 Moscow and 1984 Los Angeles Olympics - and the subsequent boycotts of each nation from The Games it didn't host - to Star Wars nuclear technology, the USSR's entry into Afghanistan (commented on, in part, in Rambo III), the entire decade and some of the early 1990s - even after the end of the Cold War in 1991 - was all about the threat of what was behind the Iron Curtain.

Since the fall of the USSR and the emergence of the Union's independent nations, there is no longer a (secret) threat of nuclear war (at least not from Easter Europe). Along with the USSR's demise and the end of Communism in the region has been the death of certain words that were pertinent to the social and political structure of the day. 'Politburo' is one of them. A word that was common in front page, back page and middle page newspaper clippings is no longer seen. There isn't a need for it.The word 'glasnost' has also gone the way of ostensible extinction. Just like with politburo, there isn't a need for glasnost - as a word or an idea - since there is no longer a Soviet Union and because it's not a crime nor is it something to be feared if you talk openly about social concerns.

So, what other 'dead words' are there that existed in our cultural lexicon that we longer use? And, I don't mean the names of fad diets or products. I mean, when was the last time a waiter or waitress asked if a patron wanted a Tab? (I've seen Tab in a couple of stores, though, recently. And, what was the deal with Diet Tab? Yes, there was a Diet Tab. If Tab was already a diet cola, what was Diet Tab, an empty can?) I don't mean words like 'cowabunga' or how the 1980s brought 'awesome' to prominence the way 'cool' became vogue in the 1960s and 70s. What I mean are words that we used everyday because we had to but, due to some kind of world change, we longer need to; not slang or colloquial phrases between and within groups.

So,if you can think of any others and how/why they stopped being used, please do share. I can't wait to read your responses and the creativity in them.