A writer and editor searches for lost memories.
In her sensitive debut memoir, Tjoa, a nonfiction editor at Sundog Lit, creates a narrative from conversations between Hui and her younger sister, Nin. As children, growing up in Singapore, Hui would tell Nin stories as they lay in the dark at bedtime. Now adults, Nin urges Hui to reprise the ritual, especially to tell her stories about the years that Hui claims not to remember, from the time she was 8 until she was around 16. Hui insists those memories are blank; instead, she tells Nin about visiting Bali, where their father was born, and where, on her two visits to the island, she was affronted by the “colonial wounds, the economic and ecological injustices of its present day.” Not “in search of some putative paradise,” she bristles at being thought of as just another rich tourist. However, Nin is not interested in Hui’s political analyses, but rather in her feelings. Talking about her marriage to Thomas, a white German whom she met at university, Hui reveals nothing about Thomas as a person or about their relationship, but only about other people’s assumptions “that I must study Thomas’s world as a debutante studies poise: eager to improve, and wary of slip-ups. Girlishly hoping to emerge transformed. Whereas Thomas is thought to observe my world as a specialist might observe a shiny new colony of ants: with interest, but with no intention of ever evolving in its likeness or direction.” As Hui relates other experiences—at an eco-hostel, in her marketing job, and in London, where she lives—Nin urges her to stop intellectualizing and dig deep into the reasons she often feels exploited, trapped, and depressed. Memory, loss, trauma, and powerlessness emerge as salient themes in this probing memoir.
An intimate exploration of a woman’s identity.