A Conversation With Tan Twan Eng

Posted October 1, 2008

Tan Twan Eng is a Malaysian author whose 2007 debut novel, The Gift of Rain, was long-listed for the Man Booker Prize. The book, which focuses on the Malaysian experience during World War II, unflinchingly examines this oft-neglected period of Malaysian history. Mr. Eng is currently working on his second novel, also set in pre-independence Malaysia and splits his time between Penang and Cape Town, South Africa.

What is your opinion about the state of Malaysian literature? Which Malaysian authors do you most admire?

It’s going through a period of growth at the moment, thanks not only to writers but also to those working in the background: organisers of monthly book readings in the city, poetry performances, and creative writing classes. Many of these people run these events for the love of it. There are more platforms now for a writer’s work to be seen, heard, read and, consequently, they have spurred more people to write, to create. 

I also feel that there’s a generation of younger people who no longer feel they must enter the traditional professions of their parents: doctors, lawyers, accountants, engineers. Credit should also be given to these parents, who are strong and brave enough to allow their children the space and freedom to be writers, film-makers, playwrights, dancers.

I admire Vyvyanne Loh’s writing in her novel, Breaking The Tongue, and I think the book has been under-appreciated and not properly promoted.  Preeta Samarasan is a powerful writer, and Tash Aw is a great prose stylist.  There are other writers who’ve written about Malaysia or Malaya whom I admire—JG Farrell in The Singapore Grip, Anthony Burgess with his extremely funny and acerbic The Malayan Trilogy.   

Why do you write? Literarily, who are your biggest influences?

I write because it’s something I have confidence in doing. I enjoy playing with language and creating stories, and subverting the state of things and the way people perceive events around them ever so subtly. 

I’ve been influenced by different writers at different stages of my life, but the one writer I always keep returning to is Kazuo Ishiguro. An Artist of The Floating World is one of the most perfect novels I’ve ever read. Martin Booth is also, I feel, another underrated writer—read Adrift On The Oceans of Mercy and Hiroshima Joe. I’m also in awe of Nabokov’s Lolita and Salman Rushdie’s Midnight’s Children. 

I prefer to read authors who have no need to clog their writing with what I call “textual gimmicks,” but who realize that it’s the story that will move and touch readers and make them remember your book years later, and not because you made the fonts and typeset in your book look odd and distracting. And please, no more of that “I have orangeapplemangococacolaicecream” style of writing!  

Aikido plays a very prominent role in The Gift of Rain as well as in your life, can you talk a bit about just why it means so much to you?

I discovered aikido, or aikido found me, at a time when I needed it most without even realising it. I’ve always been envious of people who can play a musical instrument, and one day I woke up and told myself, “I don’t want to grow old without learning to play something, or to be good in something.” 

I thought aikido would be gentle and easy – it wasn’t at all! It was difficult, frustrating, painful, challenging and uplifting. There was a long period when I became obsessed with it – training madly everyday for hours, thinking about it all the time, reading every book and watching every video I could get my hands on.  It’s taught me many things about life as well as intangible lessons about the physical, mental and emotional space between every person we meet in our lives. 

What does it mean to be a Malaysian author who writes in English? What similarities or differences do you find between yourself and other authors who write in Chinese or Bahasa Malaysian?

We write in the language we’re most comfortable with. I’d say writers are the same everywhere, regardless of which language one writes in. If you feel a certain language best captures what you’re trying to express, then use that language if you’re comfortable with it.

The difference with writing in English is that you can reach a more universal readership, mainly because English is used almost worldwide. This gives a person writing in English a stronger advantage, but again it depends on which market you want to speak to. I’m sure all writers want to reach as many readers as possible.

What kind of feedback have you gotten about the book from within Malaysia and internationally? Have you found any notable differences between the responses of the culturally diverse audience your book has enjoyed?

The feedback has been extremely encouraging. The book has just been published in the United States and I’ve been gratified at how positive the American critics feel about The Gift of Rain.

In Malaysia, I’ve had a few complaints that I’ve explained too many things which were obvious to a Malaysian reader, given too many historical details. I disagree because, in writing The Gift of Rain, I’ve made a conscious attempt to find a balance between over-explaining and leaving many readers confused. I think I’ve managed to achieve that balance.

There were also some questions from Malaysians as to why I set the book in the 1930s, why it’s another novel about the Second World War in Malaya again.

I’ve asked some of the people who’ve said this, “What do you mean, ‘another novel about the Second World War set in Malaya again’?”  There haven’t been many books about the Second World War written by a Malaysian and set in Malaya—The Harmony Silk Factory didn’t deal with the Japanese invasion or Occupation of Malaya; JG Farrell’s and Vyvyanne Loh’s and Noel Barber’s books were set in Singapore. Burgess’s trilogy was set in post-war Malaya. There are a large number of memoirs and history books about World War II in Malaya, but these aren’t novels, and most of them were written by the Europeans.

The Gift of Rain focuses on the Malaysian experience during World War II. How strong is the legacy of the war in Malaysia today?

The legacy of the war is almost nil. Unless you’re interested in it and read up on it yourself, you wouldn’t know much about it from history lessons in school. It’s quite different from the situation in the United Kingdom or Australia, where a large number of veterans came back from the war and wrote about their experiences as soldiers, POWs, slave-labourers of the Japanese. 

The only annual commemoration of the anniversary of the end of the war in Malaysia today seems to be done by ageing European and Australian servicemen, who return every year to lay wreaths for the forgotten dead.

There aren’t many Malaysians who’ve lived through the Japanese Occupation and who are still alive today. Many of them also wanted to forget about the horrors and get on with life, I suppose. And we seem to be a forgiving lot.

I gave a talk at a book club last year and a member of the club, an expatriate Japanese woman, said it was difficult for her to read The Gift of Rain, because she had been unaware of what her country had done in Malaya, or anywhere else in Asia, during the war. And this woman had seemed to me like an intelligent, well-read, well-travelled person. 

By extension what is your perspective on the role and importance of pre-independence, colonial history in Malaysia today?

We’ve been fortunate that we were left with a strong infrastructure, good legal, judicial and educational systems. Compared to other countries that have achieved their independence at around the same time as Malaysia, I’d say we’ve built upon those strong foundations created by the British. It’s very fashionable to criticize colonialism, but speaking as someone who has only reaped its benefits—and I’m not the only one—there were good points about colonialism as well. 

What are your thoughts on the developing political situation with Anwar Ibrahim right now?

I don’t waste my time following the antics of any politicians anywhere. Reading Animal Farm when I was younger and seeing how true it was cured me of any illusions about the promises and noise they make.

How has your life changed since being long-listed for the Man Booker Prize?

For a new author, its influence has been incalculable. The Man Booker Prize long-listing made it easier for The Gift of Rain to be marketed around the world. It’s raised the profiles of the novel, my publisher and of course, myself. There’re suddenly publishers from various countries who want to translate and publish it.

On the other hand, it’s also set expectations higher for the subsequent books I’m writing in future. Oh, and I get more requests for interviews and get invited to more arts festivals. I also get a lot more good-natured ribbing from my friends—they make very certain I don’t suddenly think I’m very important. 

How do you hope to see your writing develop over the coming years? What challenges have you been experiencing in working on your second novel?

I hope that my writing—like my own self—becomes wiser and more mature over the coming years, but yet continues to be fresh and interesting, and will still be able to make the world seem beautiful no matter how sad the story is. 

Working on the second novel, I try not to repeat myself, but still retain the elements I’ve put in The Gift of Rain that struck so many chords with readers.

Paul Mozur, a former Princeton-in-Asia fellow at the REVIEW, is a reporter at The Standard in Hong Kong.