My Abundance of Books and Durians

 Ovidia--every other Tuesday

Notice Singapore's huge fines for smoking, eating, drinking and bombing or burning stuff on our public transport? And notice too that the only other thing specifically banned on public transport is durians. No doubt this says something about our national passion for cleanliness--but maybe even more about our national passion for durians.

It's interesting, too, that there's no $$ fine for the offence, maybe because it would be lèse majesté to fine someone carrying the 'king of all fruits'.

But what I've been thinking about is whether I'm having too much of a good thing when it comes to durians and books.

There was a time when I would have sworn I could never have too many books or too much durian. I couldn't imagine such a state.

When I was growing up and both books and durians were precious and scarce, I remember loading up my library card (as well as my mother's) to borrow the maximum number of English books allowed on once-a-week trips to the National Library at Stamford Road--only during school holidays, of course. During term time you had to depend on the school library that was really pathetic. You'll get an idea of how pathetic when I tell you I even read all the Chinese and Malay books in there--both shelves worth.

That library's long gone now. There are new libraries now of course. Good, clean, well-organised libraries, but they don't smell or feel as exciting.  

It was the same thing when, during the durian season, my father came home with the car boot full of spiky, deliciously stinky durians. I ate all I could get my fingers on. We all stuffed ourselves, but there was never, ever enough.

When something's in short supply, whether books or durians, every word, ever morsel is precious.

Back in those days I think there was one major durian 'season' between June and September, and, if we were lucky, a 'minor' season around Christmas--though the fruit always cost more then we always had some then too. But there were sometimes 'offers' at the end of the day, when sellers had to get rid of fruit since it doesn't keep overnight. My Dad would hear from his 'lobang' (Singlish for insider connection) and we would tumble out of bed to feast in our pyjamas. 

Like with books, there was one big bookshop in town--MPH (Malaysian Publishing House) also on Stamford Road--that issued the book vouchers that were the only presents I wanted for birthday and Christmas presents. But even more exciting was the illicit thrill of second hand bookshops along Bras Basah Road. (Illicit only because my mum feared 'germs' almost as much as she disapproved of 'Enid Blytons' though she couldn't say why). Anything that I could pick up there and smuggle home was extra precious.

But fast forward to today when I have access to more books than I can read and more durian than I can eat, and all year round without needing to wait for seasons and school holidays.

So how do I choose where to get my durians?

For years Uncle Lee was the main 'supplier' to my addiction. He worked into his 80's and was very proud of the customers he'd kept through the years. Even during the off season he would often sit in the kopitiam near his stall talking about how the durian trees were doing, whether they were flowering too early or whether it was raining too much or not enough. 

Uncle Lee was very proud of only selling durians from trees he knew, 'no GM stuff' 'all old tree only'. He was one of a dying breed and he died of a heart attack in the middle of the season a few years ago. Some of us loyal customers helped buy up his pre-ordered stock so his last contract was honoured. But his nephew didn't want to carry on the business so that was the end of that. 

Now you can get durians all year round, almost everywhere. They're in supermarkets now, packed in sealed styrofoam packets so they don't smell. You can order them online and have them delivered, vacuum packed.

And venders are online and send updates on prices as efficiently as betting odds. Also, with guarantees of odourless packing that will get you past any checkpoints 'even on airplane'.

But it feels almost too easy. Like buying books on BookBub or elsewhere online or at Kinokuniya (my idea of what heaven looks like) or at a charity pre-owned book booth... I'll grab: 

1) books I've loved but don't own 

2) ebooks editions of books I own only on paper (in case I want to read them on the go) 

3) paper editions of books I own only on Kindle 

4) books by writers I've read before and liked 

5) books by people I like even if I haven't read their books before 

6) books that sound like books I've loved before 

7) books that sound like nothing I've enjoyed before (because I want to expand my reading horizons and this is a cheap way to get more options than I'll ever read) 

8) books by local authors because I want to support them 

9) books by foreign writers because I want to learn more about other cultures 

10) books about writing, food, plants, dogs, fish, languages, drawing, painting, yoga, cycling, swimming...

Okay this didn't go the way I intended but it feels like exactly the same issue. 

These are all good books and worth reading. Like there's nothing wrong with durians--they're full of vitamins, minerals, fibre and other good things. And I want to support the people selling them (a neighbour and friend is part owner of one business and the chap who sends the daily price update has the cutest little daughter in Malaysia, who he didn't see for two years during the Covid ban on travel). 

It's just that there's almost too much of a good thing. Without a period of scarcity it's hard to remember to appreciate how lucky I am. It makes me want to spend some time in that (totally gorgeous and isolated!) Meteora monastery Jeff wrote about on Saturday. 

In the old days the 'aunties' of our neighbourhood would gather around this tree 

 on the slope just outside our fence, watching the durians ripen and waiting for them to fall. Monkeys watched from nearby trees too. 

Even though there would be at most one or two seeds for those who were lucky enough to be on watch when the ripe fruit finally fell everyone said they were the best they ever tasted.

Maybe I should go back to only eating durians I collect myself in season? And maybe only read books that I order by mail and get delivered by sea... no. That's not going to happen.

But maybe a short fast might be a good idea...