SLOW BOAT TO CHINA AND OTHER STORIES

Name: SLOW BOAT TO CHINA AND OTHER STORIES
Author: Ng Kim Chew
ISBN: 978-0-231-16812-0

by Ng Kim Chew ; edited by Carlos Rojas ; translated by Carlos Rojas ‧ RELEASE DATE: March 8, 2016

Though some of stories are dense, meandering, and plodding, the standouts burst with absurd humor and a surreal vitality in...

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Intricate postmodern stories plumb the complexities of the Malaysian Chinese experience.

Malaysian Chinese author Ng (Chinese Literature / National Chi Nan Univ.), who incorporates English, Japanese, Malay, and dialects of Chinese into his prose, explores the limits of language, ethnicity, and authorship in his first collection to appear in English. In “The Disappearance of M,” the first Malaysian novel to gain international attention is the subject of debate among Malaysian and Malaysian Chinese writers’ associations, each wanting to claim the anonymous author, M, as their own. Wry humor pokes fun at nationalist and ethnocentric anxieties while slippages from third-person to first-person narration—“Mr. Li said that he had already heard, whereupon I (uh, it’s not me)...he told Li frankly that...”—introduce a metafictional device used throughout the book. This story, and others, spirals in on itself in Borgesian alternate literary histories using real historic authors. The question of authorship arises in several stories, more often than necessary in a single volume. Other stories push the boundaries of realism differently. “Dream and Swine and Aurora” vacillates in an indeterminate dream state. Absurdly repetitive references to pig excrement, meant to show the drudgery of one woman’s rural life, result in a soporific experience. Three dark stories stand out: “Allah’s Will,” about a Chinese exile forced to convert to Islam and to never speak, write, or even think in Chinese again; “Monkey Butts, Fire, and Dangerous Things,” featuring a Japanese anthropologist who disguises himself as a female monkey in order to study a Chinese exile; and “Inscribed Backs,” in which an English Mr. Faulkner aspires to tattoo the backs of a thousand “coolies” in order to write a novel “as great as Ulysses.”

Though some of stories are dense, meandering, and plodding, the standouts burst with absurd humor and a surreal vitality in the face of post-colonial alienation, violence, and ethnic conflict.

Pub Date: March 8, 2016

ISBN: 978-0-231-16812-0

Page Count: 304

Publisher: Columbia Univ.

Review Posted Online: Jan. 9, 2016

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 15, 2016

Categories:

LITERARY FICTION

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IF CATS DISAPPEARED FROM THE WORLD

by Genki Kawamura ; translated by Eric Selland ‧ RELEASE DATE: March 12, 2019

Jonathan Livingston Kitty, it’s not.

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A lonely postman learns that he’s about to die—and reflects on life as he bargains with a Hawaiian-shirt–wearing devil.

The 30-year-old first-person narrator in filmmaker/novelist Kawamura’s slim novel is, by his own admission, “boring…a monotone guy,” so unimaginative that, when he learns he has a brain tumor, the bucket list he writes down is dull enough that “even the cat looked disgusted with me.” Luckily—or maybe not—a friendly devil, dubbed Aloha, pops onto the scene, and he’s willing to make a deal: an extra day of life in exchange for being allowed to remove something pleasant from the world. The first thing excised is phones, which goes well enough. (The narrator is pleasantly surprised to find that “people seemed to have no problem finding something to fill up their free time.”) But deals with the devil do have a way of getting complicated. This leads to shallow musings (“Sometimes, when you rewatch a film after not having seen it for a long time, it makes a totally different impression on you than it did the first time you saw it. Of course, the movie hasn’t changed; it’s you who’s changed") written in prose so awkward, it’s possibly satire (“Tears dripped down onto the letter like warm, salty drops of rain”). Even the postman’s beloved cat, who gains the power of speech, ends up being prim and annoying. The narrator ponders feelings about a lost love, his late mother, and his estranged father in a way that some readers might find moving at times. But for many, whatever made this book a bestseller in Japan is going to be lost in translation.

Jonathan Livingston Kitty, it’s not.

Pub Date: March 12, 2019

ISBN: 978-1-250-29405-0

Page Count: 176

Publisher: Flatiron Books

Review Posted Online: Feb. 16, 2019

Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 1, 2019

Categories:

LITERARY FICTION

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THE SECRET HISTORY

by Donna Tartt ‧ RELEASE DATE: Sept. 16, 1992

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The Brat Pack meets The Bacchae in this precious, way-too-long, and utterly unsuspenseful town-and-gown murder tale. A bunch of ever-so-mandarin college kids in a small Vermont school are the eager epigones of an aloof classics professor, and in their exclusivity and snobbishness and eagerness to please their teacher, they are moved to try to enact Dionysian frenzies in the woods. During the only one that actually comes off, a local farmer happens upon them—and they kill him. But the death isn't ruled a murder—and might never have been if one of the gang—a cadging sybarite named Bunny Corcoran—hadn't shown signs of cracking under the secret's weight. And so he too is dispatched. The narrator, a blank-slate Californian named Richard Pepen chronicles the coverup. But if you're thinking remorse-drama, conscience masque, or even semi-trashy who'll-break-first? page-turner, forget it: This is a straight gee-whiz, first-to-have-ever-noticed college novel—"Hampden College, as a body, was always strangely prone to hysteria. Whether from isolation, malice, or simple boredom, people there were far more credulous and excitable than educated people are generally thought to be, and this hermetic, overheated atmosphere made it a thriving black petri dish of melodrama and distortion." First-novelist Tartt goes muzzy when she has to describe human confrontations (the murder, or sex, or even the ping-ponging of fear), and is much more comfortable in transcribing aimless dorm-room paranoia or the TV shows that the malefactors anesthetize themselves with as fate ticks down. By telegraphing the murders, Tartt wants us to be continually horrified at these kids—while inviting us to semi-enjoy their manneristic fetishes and refined tastes. This ersatz-Fitzgerald mix of moralizing and mirror-looking (Jay McInerney shook and poured the shaker first) is very 80's—and in Tartt's strenuous version already seems dated, formulaic. Les Nerds du Mal—and about as deep (if not nearly as involving) as a TV movie.