The Gift of Rain by Tan Twan Eng
by prudence on 06-Jun-2010
I read this just this last week in Malaysia. Its subject matter reflects my interest in WW2 history, which has grown since I've been in Singapore. Its location -- Penang -- is just down the coast from Langkawi, and was the first place we ever visited in Malaysia. And its elegiac, regretful, sombre tone resonates with my last days in Southeast Asia (but only for the time being, please God...).
I liked this book at lot. There were, of course, things I was not so keen on. On occasions, the author seemed to have overplayed his hand -- his grandfather's life story, the fight scenes, SO many ritual executions -- and, as many reviews note, there is sometimes an awkwardness about the introduction of historical detail, when dialogues are made to bear too much.
But the tone was beautiful -- mournful, solemn, measured. And the scene-painting was very evocative. I could smell the sea, see the rich pre-war environments of the well-to-do, taste the street dishes of Penang. The complexity of the relationship between Philip and Endo-san is skilfully painted.
Above all, I liked The Gift of Rain because it dealt with two issues that intrigue me. The first is the issue of collaboration. I often wonder whether I would have collaborated, if I'd lived in those dangerous times. I'm not brave, and my natural predisposition to bridge gaps and find the middle ground could, I'm sure, easily tip over into something more morally suspect. This story investigates the complex world of the collaborator, and mercifully gives us no easy answers. At the end of his life, as at the end of the book, the verdict on Philip Hutton is still open -- as many people regard him as a hero as regard him as a traitor. This ambivalence is sympathetically and sensitively depicted.
The second issue is the unresolved and irresolvable tension between predestination and free will. This is, admittedly, somewhat ponderously canvassed by Tan. There's no way you are going to miss this theme... But what he does well is make sure you don't think the matter can be summed up as some easy East/West contrast. He clearly notes the distinct lines within Christian thinking which point in different directions on this one. It's a conundrum. Many of us like to feel we're autonomous and in charge of our lives, but there is so much -- genetic, social, economic, historical, geographical -- over which we have no control that it would take a brave person to assert that none of her life has been mapped out ahead of time.
So, it's not a perfect book, but it's a beautiful one, and a thought-provoking one. I've been touched by spending time in its company.
I liked this book at lot. There were, of course, things I was not so keen on. On occasions, the author seemed to have overplayed his hand -- his grandfather's life story, the fight scenes, SO many ritual executions -- and, as many reviews note, there is sometimes an awkwardness about the introduction of historical detail, when dialogues are made to bear too much.
But the tone was beautiful -- mournful, solemn, measured. And the scene-painting was very evocative. I could smell the sea, see the rich pre-war environments of the well-to-do, taste the street dishes of Penang. The complexity of the relationship between Philip and Endo-san is skilfully painted.
Above all, I liked The Gift of Rain because it dealt with two issues that intrigue me. The first is the issue of collaboration. I often wonder whether I would have collaborated, if I'd lived in those dangerous times. I'm not brave, and my natural predisposition to bridge gaps and find the middle ground could, I'm sure, easily tip over into something more morally suspect. This story investigates the complex world of the collaborator, and mercifully gives us no easy answers. At the end of his life, as at the end of the book, the verdict on Philip Hutton is still open -- as many people regard him as a hero as regard him as a traitor. This ambivalence is sympathetically and sensitively depicted.
The second issue is the unresolved and irresolvable tension between predestination and free will. This is, admittedly, somewhat ponderously canvassed by Tan. There's no way you are going to miss this theme... But what he does well is make sure you don't think the matter can be summed up as some easy East/West contrast. He clearly notes the distinct lines within Christian thinking which point in different directions on this one. It's a conundrum. Many of us like to feel we're autonomous and in charge of our lives, but there is so much -- genetic, social, economic, historical, geographical -- over which we have no control that it would take a brave person to assert that none of her life has been mapped out ahead of time.
So, it's not a perfect book, but it's a beautiful one, and a thought-provoking one. I've been touched by spending time in its company.