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 Functional Business literacy

Compared to learning English for history and culture 


KEE THUAN CHYE ON TRANSNATIONAL WRITER


"Tash Aw is actually based in the United Kingdom but he is lionised in Malaysia. The fact that he is based in the West and published there helps to hype up his appeal here. That many Malaysians tend to give high regard to Western recognition of our overseas talents is a sad symptom of our cultural cringe. It makes us overlook the lack of quality inherent in the works themselves, and also the fact that one of the key ingredients of exoticise their writing with local colour these émigrés' success is their propensity, conscious or otherwise, to and culture that a Westerner might find unfamiliar and therefore charming.


[Tan Twan Eng] exhibits marketing savvy in knowing what ingredients to throw into his fictional pot. Every chance he gets, he sneaks in a cultural morsel or travel-guide tidbit, regardless of its relevance to the narrative... Tan exploits his own for surface adornment. It is selling exotica to find favour with Western readers. It is a practice that is demeaning, somewhat akin to harlotry."


KeenThuanChye search of greed penang fiction"Penang economic Monthly, vol 12. no 10. May 2012, pp. 32-33


Resurgence literature in NYC prominence as well as writers of msian grassroots 


Msian literature is known internationally , going onto international waters to make it big in msia








... there is considerable craffic between (regions like Africa and India) and the countries with large reading markets and literary infrastructure like Britain, the us, and, to a lesser extent, Canada. Writers from these areas move to the metropolitan centers and make their names there, but they still maintain tiriks with their places of origin.


They are in the "center" and have the kind of Infrastructural support-the ritics and scholars-with the scope for big ideas, or at least ideas and concerns that are of interest to erstwhile colonial rulers. In contrast, Malaysia is entirely out of this orbit and is, in realistic terms, a backwater.


We therefore carnot have the writers, the infrastructure, and, of course, the critics and scholars confident in their own judgments about intellectual and literary matters. The last category-critics and scholars-is important and complementary to that of the writers and to the development of a literary tradition. A country with writers but no crities is maimed as far as literature and art are concerned"






Cliche in bits that only exist to find recognition in the international market from tan twan eng to tash aw

Setting (Japanese occupation) is not the problem. A lot of great stories can be crafted, but it's what the stereotype and genre cliches that develop into a routine and conventions. Malaysian writing has a grafted look through an international lens because it has not been founded through national eyes.


Anxiety of being a Malaysian writer being from nothing and from scratch, but no there is a rich tradition of language and culture 

Knowing poetry existed, don't have to write in the same way and style. No need worry about being a global (Malaysian) citizen 

young people write superficial political things , expressive ,but difficult to, 

responding to something in the climate of our lives. Responding in poetry because you cannot really do otherwise. It's a first step.

poetry a medium to create intimacy, 


Literary movements in the 60s, it felt organic, but only when it died when they realised it failed because it was too political.


Most prevalent writing is very political

People want to feel words that describe what they cannot put into words. Something that is unavailable to them something that they yearn for 

If you talk about flatbread and how it is so delicious it might not gain much traction because the general public can go into a widely accessible restaurant and order a delicious fret bread and enjoy that experience for themselves primarily through sense of taste and that will suffice and satisfy this craving and in it desire to feel. But when it comes to a heart-wrenching injustice and how the governmental system is unable to rectify it because of certain clauses that are designed to be complex and when it comes to feelings that are arising in a new age of people that have new experiences from a merit of technology advancements and a combination of fresh emotions that might not have existed in such a defined way in the past 


people would want to feel and have words to articulate that experience

And this is when the art of poetry will come to satisfy this hunger the literary goal of fulfilling a person's search to describe what they feel


Wang Gung Wu


The ways are old. Facces steeped once full

Near deepened tracks; Now thickened grease films

On convex tar,

Mirrors the cyclic wheels of a factory car.

No cock crows the dawn,


But metal cold whines the morning born, Choking in the carburettor. A late slut yawns away her cares, The early hawker yokes his wares; And numbered planks accumulate As splatterings cease from telewires Life again, life of flowless mires.

Seen through market railings:

Trouser-wearing women Worm among saris, sarongs colourfully checked; Baju biru full of tailings,

And sams unhooked at the neck; Here and there are tailored New Looks Brushing the basket-arms of cooks.

O listen to the haggling drone of female rooks.

A noon-haze brings siesta time:

Sleepful is the clime. And when the sun tires,

Feathers fly, fans flock And couples go tasting the wind Thus the dusk forgets the clock.




INVESTMENT

She was born of a stolen night, or a transient breathlessness, To be the sight of shame, blame,

Given the blight of Among legal virtues

That regally spurned her lack of name.

Ere she was four, her mother died. (Her father, they say, lived with another.)

All cried but she,

Who stood by the door Looking at the eye-leaks so futile, Not knowing to cry for the wet cheeks.

After the monks had gone And the paper gold been burnt,

It was too late to mourn. Cold, the deceit of the sun; Lone, her slow death was begun: She soon learnt her fate.

She learnt to serve her aunt, A barren bag of nerves,

Who flogged her maliciously For her mother's fertility,

Who fed her ambitiously

For the promise of her marketivity.

Thus ten years she grew in shame, this little flowe Aimed at a harlot's fame, Blooning on her auntie's capital.

Her assets were doubled - Gold teeth and bangles,

High-heels for sandals: All ready for virgin's vandals!



The wastela

nd

The suckketh of intertextuality 


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