Wijaya Journal: The Best of Stranger in Paradise Book Launch, Warung Enak, 15 January 2009

Friday, 13 February 2009

The Best of Stranger in Paradise Book Launch, Warung Enak, 15 January 2009

Published in Now! Jakarta, March 2009

Ubud in Bali has become Indonesia’s favourite town for book launches: the annual Ubud Readers’ and Writers’ Festival alone sees scores of book launches and readings.

Last month I helped celebrate the release of a collection of columns by this magazine’s regular writer, Made Wijaya. The venue was the colourful Warung Enak restaurant in Pengosekan, Ubud also designed by the author. Present were ‘Stranger’ enthusiasts from Bali, Jakarta and abroad.

The nice thing about Ubud events is the generous mix of people they attract: Indonesians and expats from all walks of life. And Made’s book ‘The Best of Stranger in Paradise 1996 – 2008’ is really about that too—unity in diversity (or ‘Adversity in Unison’ as he calls it).

Made Wijaya and Jamie James

Lengthy Encounters with the Stranger in Paradise

The essence of a great column is the voice. It should be the voice of a friend, a smart, well-informed friend, full of original opinions, sometimes a bit irritating, perhaps, but always fascinating – the sort of friend you would want to get together with for a nice, long chinwag over sundowners. When I read the Stranger in Paradise, it's easy for me to hear that voice: Made Wijaya is my friend, and we have those chinwags over drinks at our favorite beach club in Legian, whenever we're both in Bali. And every time I see Made, he is either finishing up a column or starting a new one, and there he is, sitting right next to me, trying it out.

Indeed, Made is in a more or less permanent state of starting a new column. The reason he has perfected the chatty, sparkling voice of his Stranger in Paradise columns is because that's the way he composes – like Homer and 50 Cent, it all starts with the spoken word. I can tell when he's on to his next column. It starts with a wicked glitter in those baby-blue eyes of his, then he'll come out with his latest aperçu, a neat way of expressing some concept that's been eluding him, a vivid phrase or image that puts it just so. Then he'll add, "Hey, that's a good one!" He doesn't say that unless it actually is good. He's not trying to convince you it's good; it's just the spontaneous delight of having got it right, like a tennis player shooting his fist in the air after he's aced his opponent.

Once the words have been spoken, the piece slowly works its way into print, by devious and at times deviant electronic alleyways: first the SMS's, elaborating on the original concept, variations on a theme, like a Bach cantata. Then the broadcast e-mails start thundering through the ether, as often as not originating from India or Belize or Miami. After that come the follow-ups, the reviews from his circle of editorial advisers get circulated round and round like a game of Chinese Whispers – or an ancient manuscript, with one scholar after another inditing learned commentaries in the margins of the sacred parchment.

Finally it ends up in written form, a neat sheaf of print-out which he brings along to our next date at the beach club. Sometimes, if he's in a hurry, Made will send ahead the manuscript for me to read, but if there's time, he prefers to read it out loud, delivered with the feeling and oomph of a vaudevilian trouper – yet always with a critical eye and ear, pausing to interrupt himself to make a quick correction when he thinks of a slightly edgier, funnier way of putting something.

Much is made, and rightly, about Made Wijaya's encyclopaedic erudition about every aspect of Balinese culture and history (specializing in the skeletons in everybody's closet), but for me his greatest accomplishment is that voice: Long may it natter on!