29 June 2007

Swedish Meatballs Optional

How many pieces of Ikea furniture do you own?

Great Ikea: A Brand for all the People
Author: Elen Lewis
Publisher: Cyan Books, 192 pages

ALMOST my entire book collection sits in Ikea bookcases, more specifically Billy bookcases in white foil. The Billy that contains my extremely precious out-of-print books have a glass door that I installed myself. My two younger children sleep on Ikea beds and I have an Ikea armchair, sofa bed, stool, rugs and bathroom trolley, plus various Ikea odds and ends like coasters, plastic clips, electrical two-pin adapters and photo frames. Sometimes I flip through the Ikea catalogue and imagine my house fully kitted out with stuff from the Swedish furniture company.

I think a great many Malaysians (those who live in the Klang Valley anyway) feel the same way. Most of my close friends love Ikea products and the store itself. My kids like the playroom and the restaurant. I like the free coffee (with my Ikea Friends card) and the money-back policy for goods returned within 30 days.

No, I’m not going to continue singing Ikea’s praises for a further eight paragraphs. However, I did want to review this book partly because I am a fan of the furniture retailer and wanted to know more about the company, its history and policies.

Great Ikea is one of the Great Brand Stories books. Other top brands featured in the series include Guinness, Starbucks, Adidas and (coming soon) Banyan Tree. The cover blurb says that the books “focus on brands that have not only reaped huge profits ... but also established themselves as icons of contemporary society.”

The books should be of interest to those in the fields of business, marketing and advertising, but I daresay consumers (certainly, regular users of any of these brands) would also enjoy them.

I said I was a fan of Ikea but I think I would be more accurately described as having a love-hate relationship with the store. Here’s what I dislike about it: it “tricks” me into thinking I need stuff that I really have no use for; very often, when I have tried to assemble furniture myself, I end up with something rickety and lopsided; in the showroom, walls are built around furniture and accessories - just try making everything fit in your hovel in Kelana Jaya; the chipboard shelves that suffer from worse sag than even women whose bra size is 38DD; and seven out of 10 times, what I want is out of stock.

One of the things I learnt from reading this book is that I am not alone in my ambivalent feelings about Ikea. In most European countries, things are even worse for Ikea customers. The stores over there are usually situated in the middle of nowhere, whereas it takes me just 10 minutes to get to the store in Mutiara Damansara, Selangor. Also, in Europe, customers have no choice but to lug their flatpacks home and assemble the furniture themselves. Unlike in Malaysia, there is no delivery or assembly service. We are one of the few markets (including Singapore, China and Japan) where these services are available for an extra charge.

The whole idea of self-service is to keep prices down. Saving money is what Ikea is all about. The man who started it all, Ingvar Kamprad (his initials are the I and K in Ikea, while E and A stand for Elmtaryd and Agunnard, the farm Kamprad grew up on and his hometown respectively), is famous/infamous/notorious/admired for his frugality. Managers have tiny expense accounts. When they travel, they fly economy class. And they stay at budget motels.

At the Ikea HQ in Almhult, Sweden, the carpark is filled with its employees’ decidedly unflashy cars. Rumour has it, however, that this is because Ikea staff are smart enough to leave their Porsches at home!

I really enjoyed this book and it’s made me curious about the other titles in the series. What you get here is an in-depth look at the retail giant and the people behind it, encompassing the brand’s history, philosophy and culture. You learn what makes Ikea tick, why it’s a success and why that success is often a long time coming and certainly not guaranteed.

There is lots of trivia, anecdotes and gossip. And Elen Lewis’s writing is totally accessible – it’s like she’s chatting to you over a plate of Swedish meatballs. But this is not an ad in book’s clothing. Although, much of Ikea’s story will impress, there is quite a bit that is dodgy too. Nazism, child labour accusations, eco-unfriendly materials, not to mention furniture that you’re supposed to self-assemble but comes with incomprehensible instructions are just some of the black marks against the store.

In Malaysia, it’s not even as if the furniture is so cheap that it helps us overlook Ikea’s faults. Dollar for dollar, I reckon Malaysians pay more for Ikea furniture than the rest of the world. For example, Ikea’s Mammut three-legged plastic stool costs US$6.99 (RM23) in the States, S$5.90 (RM13) in Singapore and ... wait for it ... RM19.90 in Malaysia. Dollar for dollar, Malaysians pay the most for the stool and, even considering the exchange rate, it’s cheaper for Malaysians to buy the stool in Singapore. It’s the same with other pieces of furniture, small and large. If anything, reading this book has made me think longer and harder before making a purchase at Ikea. I’m still buying though.

Interestingly, Elen Lewis reveals, in her foreword, that although Ikea agreed to co-operate in the writing of this book, it later changed its mind. I wonder if the company would answer my burning question about the cost (in Malaysia) of the Mammut stool.

08 April 2007

For the Love of Books

Finally, an easy-to-read book about books, written for those who love to read books.

THE YELLOW-LIGHTED BOOKSHOP:
A MEMOIR, A HISTORY

By Lewis Buzbee
Publisher
: Graywold Press, 216 pages
(ISBN: 978-1555974503)

MOST avid readers love nosing around other readers' book collections. And it's always great fun having a private snigger at a fellow bookworm's (so he says) reading preferences ... while looking suitably impressed of course! Readers love books like The Complete Polysyllabic Spree by Nick Hornby, Ex Libris by Anne Fadiman and So Many Books, So Little Time by Sarah Nelson. Not only do they appreciate the recommendations (any excuse to buy books is welcome), it's terribly encouraging to discover that celebrity authors like Hornby are pretentious gits with dubious tastes. Plus, there's nothing like reading impassioned descriptions of books to make you feel like you've read them without actually having done so. So many books, so little time? Just let someone else read them for you and then read about it!

Oh, yes, reading about other readers' (famous or otherwise) reading habits is fun. But if you love books and reading, it doesn't necessarily follow that you'd be interested in the history of book making, publishing and selling. The Yellow-Lighted Bookshop is about all that. It's also a personal history of one man's passionate love affair with books.

The author, Lewis Buzbee, worked in a bookseller and publisher's representative. He recounts his experiences in both areas of the book trade, describes his love for books and bookshops, and interweaves his own stories with all things book-related, from bookstores and libraries to printing and binding to the technicalities like ISBNs (International Standard Book Number) and barcodes.

Just typing the above paragraph made my mouth water and heart beat increase, but then, it's always been my dream to own a bookshop. To me the book trade is steeped in romance. It's not just about selling the printed word. It's about dealing in dreams and mysteries and ideas. I also happen to have bookcases with sagging shelves and so it's fascinating to know that bookshelves weren't always where books were kept, and that even when the practice first started, books were placed horizontally, with their spines facing inward. It's also interesting that once upon a time, spines didn't bear the book's title or author's name. And that there were no spines for the longest time since books (as we know them today, or near enough anyway) didn't come into existence until round about the first century CE. Before that, scrolls were all the rage!

Buzbee has a relaxed, tongue-in-cheek, easy-to read style. And, whether he's talking about the invention of paper, the establishment of the lending library, or the rise of the softback, he presents his topic in a clear, concise and engaging manner. With Buzbee you, as someone who is interested in the subject, but not planning to write a thesis on it, learn exactly what you need or want to.

In contrast, a writer like Henry Petroski, in The Book on the Bookshelf, overloads the casual reader with facts, dates and details, delivered in a dry, academic fashion. Even anecdotes are related without humour or enthusiasm. Bookshelf covers similar ground to Bookshop but I couldn't get past the third chapter.

Buzbee lures you with tales of a love affair that started from the time he was a boy in San Jose, California, and then holds your interest with his infectious enthusiasm. He is candid and witty, personable and personal, never self-indulgent or pompous. His fascination with books is evident and the fascination rubs off. When you read Bookshop, you smell the books Buzbee lovingly describes, hold them in your hand and feel the magic and power of the words they contain.

And I love the trivia: John Milton received a grand total of
£10 (RM68) for Paradise Lost. The sum was paid in two parts over seven years. In 2004, American publishers produced "between 135,000 and 175,000 new titles". If you live until you're 80 and read a book every week from the age of five, you'll have read 3,900 books by the time you shake off this mortal coil - and that's just one percent of the books currently in print!

One of my favourite chapters is Big Business, in which Buzbee talks about, amongst other things, remainders, ISBNs and the price of books. When discussing whether books are just too costly, Buzbee looks at what happens to the US$25 (RM86)one pays for the average hardcover novel: US$1.88 (RM6.50) to the author, US$3 (RM10.30) to the printer, US$8.87 (RM30.65) to the publisher, US$11.25 (RM38.88) to the bookseller. The bottom line is that books aren't so expensive after all. (As I mentioned earlier, any excuse to buy more of them).

In his penultimate chapter, Buzbee describes some of his favourite bookshops and bookshop-rich cities. There are some rather different but interesting ones, like the one near San Francisco that boasts a "walk-in humidor with a complete selection of cigars and pipe tobaccos"; and Walter Swan's One Book Bookstore, which sells Swan's first, self-published novel, and The Other Book Bookstore, which sells his second novel.

Buzbee, like all bibliophiles who don't live in 30 room mansions, does not have the luxury of keeping every book that passes his way. He only keeps books that he's sure he's going to re-read; the ones he's definitely going to read before he dies; and the ones he can't "bear to part with because of an aesthetic or emotional attachment". The Yellow-Lighted Bookshop is most definitely staying put on my shelf. It's a neat little hardback, with a lovely deep blue cover and a silver-tooled spine. The print is neat and easy to focus on, the pages thick, creamy and lovingly handcut. Inside, a heady mixture of praise and worship, facts and figures, memoir and history. I will re-read it often, I'm sure.

31 January 2007

Train Man Rides On ...


From Otaku Zone, Jan 2007

TRAIN MAN: A Shojo Manga Paperback

Story: Hitori Nakano

Art: Machiko Ocha

Publisher: Ballantine Books;

179 pages

(ISBN: 0-345-49619-1)

For ages 13+

IKUMI Saiki is an anime fanboy. This breed of humans is notoriously anti-social. They do nothing but read manga, watch anime and hang out on Internet message boards. But, like most geeky fanboys, Ikumi harbours hopes, albeit not very high ones, of having a social life and, most importantly, a girlfriend. Well, wonders never cease, but one day, he tells a drunk off for harassing a girl on a train. The girl is impressed and grateful and sends him a pair of pretty Hermes teacups. Ikumi is filled with hope … could she be the one?

If you’re a manga fan, this story should ring bells. There have been several other versions of it, not to mention a television series and a movie! In fact, Train Man is based on a true story and its original printed form was edited copies of message board conversations between Ikumi (who called himself Train Man) and his various online friends to whom he turned to for advice on how to win the heart of Hermes (as the girl on the train was nicknamed, thanks to the teacups).

It’s a rather sweet story, I guess, if you’re into happy endings, but I don’t think it merits all the publicity it has received. Only in Japan, surely!

This manga was a chore for me to read. The way the pages are sectioned, it’s not very obvious what order the text should be read in. I also had problems recognising Ikumi. His hair seems to change colour every other page. Maybe it’s what they call art! Maybe I’m too cynical and this story is just too upbeat for me!

I wonder what the real Ikumi and Hermes are up to now. Instead of 500 versions of the story of their blossoming romance, someone should write a sequel. Are they still together, I wonder? Or has Ikumi, flushed with success, taken to stalking girls in trains and/or become a playboy? Someone hunt them down and find out!