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How the Man in Green Saved Pahang, and Possibly the World
Winner of the 2020 Epigram Books Fiction Prize
Enter a shadowy mythology of serpents, Sufi saints and plainclothes gods…
A renegade prophet press-gangs chorister and first witness Gabriel into a wild road trip down the Malaysian coast to fight the Mouth, an existential threat to Malaysia and beyond. Meanwhile, in a sleepy town by the sea, Lydia traces the links between her late grandaunt’s eccentric lover and her involvement in the Communist Emergency. As all parties converge on Pahang, Lydia and Gabriel must grapple with the theologies and histories they once trusted, in a country more perilously punk than they’d ever conceived of.
Enter a shadowy mythology of serpents, Sufi saints and plainclothes gods…
A renegade prophet press-gangs chorister and first witness Gabriel into a wild road trip down the Malaysian coast to fight the Mouth, an existential threat to Malaysia and beyond. Meanwhile, in a sleepy town by the sea, Lydia traces the links between her late grandaunt’s eccentric lover and her involvement in the Communist Emergency. As all parties converge on Pahang, Lydia and Gabriel must grapple with the theologies and histories they once trusted, in a country more perilously punk than they’d ever conceived of.
304 pages, Paperback
First published July 1, 2020
12 people are currently reading
520 people want to read
About the author
Joshua Kam
11 books12 followersJoshua Kam Chun Wah grew up in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, taking frequent trips with his father down the coastal state of Pahang. A history graduate of Hope College, Michigan, he developed a hunger for the mythology of place-names, rebel peasants and sea gods his family inherited from generations by the water. Dividing his time between Malaysia and graduate school in Michigan, he interviews Nusantara mystics for a living, bakes when he can and drinks when he shouldn’t. How the Man in Green Saved Pahang, and Possibly the World is his first novel, and the winner of the 2020 Epigram Books Fiction Prize.
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June 7, 2021
‘There are four things only in this world: beautiful truth, and beautiful lies, and ugly truth, and ugly lies.’
When we think of the history of a place we think of the multitudes of people and culture that amalgamate to form this history. But with all the voices and cultures intermingling, which become the ones that stand out and how do we find ways to challenge any definitive notion that leaves voices silent. This task is at the heart of Joshua Kam’s exhilarating novel How the Man in Green Saved Pahang, and Possibly the World. Winner of the 2020 Epigram Books prize for fiction, this is a wild ride of Malaysian history and culture that appears on the surface as an high-stakes good vs evil action thriller with battling gods but has a deep philosophical heart beating within. Kam brilliantly--and seemingly effortlessly--orchestrates an abundance of ideas over two interwoven plotlines through a precision of prose that has an infectious effervescence of love, honor and respect for the Malaysian people. Through a whirlwind of plot, a diverse assortment of religious ideologies and ethnicities, and a heartfelt philosophical undercurrent, How the Man in Green is a story for those who’s stories have been waylaid or silenced by the prevailing narratives and offers a revolutionary love to ensure those stories are told.
What is immediately astonishing here is just how well Joshua Kam can navigate his own story through his prose. There are jaw-droppingly good philosophical discussions that are like a beach read in his hands, which gives an extraordinary balance of thoughtfulness with the action elements. I am particularly fond of the way Kam employs a free-indirect narration that beautifully weaves the narrative between the minds of the characters and the larger narration. This also adds a lot of charming personality to the narrative and a much-welcomed and empathetic snark, such as right from the beginning the narration tone quickly shifts into Garbriel: ‘He breathed, flicked his wrist and caught the hands of his watch under the sun’s glare on the glass. Eleven fucking fifty. He’d well missed the committee meeting at church.’ That brief dip into Gabriel’s frustration of ‘eleven fucking fifty’, or pages earlier when in a lengthy description Kahdir is ‘the bastard’, also reminds us to situate these characters as a larger part of the Malaysian narrative.
I hesitate to say the free-indirect narration weaves between individual and universal because, while there are universal messages, this is ultimately a book of Malaysia for Malaysia. Which is a good thing. Akwaeke Emezi’s latest novel does something similar in a way that framed the novel from Nigeria and not, as is often, in a way that sets the Western world as the default and Kam’s work resonates with theirs in this regard. Which isn’t to say that a non-Malaysian can’t read it or would enjoy it any less--quite the contrary--but it is honestly refreshing to see books that aren’t written to concede space to the white/western gaze. Similar to Emezi, Kam sprinkles his prose with Malaysian words, terms and cultural references without feeling the need to translate or explain them which keeps the novel grounded in Malaysia. As a white westerner, I don’t really get to—or need to—have an opinion and that is something I enjoy and respect, Im here to take it in, learn and amplify the voices that matter.
As Edward W. Said argues ‘the power to narrate, or to block other narratives from forming and emerging is very important to culture and imperialism.’ The novel is, as we’ve discussed, framed as of and for Malaysia, but this is also about the narratives that have been blocked. We have the stories of LGBTQ characters, or the communist history in Lydia’s family that are often blocked and silenced by prevailing narratives that often have government and/or religious intervention in keeping these narratives stunned and shunned. By telling this story through their perspectives, it is a beautiful reminder that these people exist, are valid and deserve a voice in the grander scheme of history. ‘We’ve been woven into this land to make it strong,’ Gabriel says to Kahdir, which reflects the collective power of the people. Or, as Mo Niang says:
There is, however, always resistance to the powers of good. Here we find The Mouth, which is a figure that represents a cacophony of evils such as political oppression, capitalism robbing the people and land, or any of the obdurate social orders that keep voices silent and avert eyes. Kam shows us how people must rise up in defiance in order to protect what they hold most sacred and dear. Sometimes this can even be accomplished by bearing witness or unburying suppressed narratives. The Lydia portions of the novel spend a great deal of time looking at overlooked aspects of communist fighters during the occupation, and Kam’s delivery of these details through a series of rather moving letters helps to build a necessary empathy to their role.
In short, How the Man in Green Saved Pahang is a delightful good time. This is a book with a clear love for the subject matter, whether it be political history, theology, mysticism or revolutionary ideology. This book is both as tender and touching as it is action-packed, philosophical and subversive and is a good reminder that history is full of buried voices that we must find and listen to.
5/5
*This is a book I'm really thrilled to see exist. I got to see this story take it's early first steps, got to root for it when it was sent to the publisher and then later when it was nominated for an award. And then later still when he WON the prize. I'm super proud of you Josh, this is an amazing book and the world is a better place for it.
When we think of the history of a place we think of the multitudes of people and culture that amalgamate to form this history. But with all the voices and cultures intermingling, which become the ones that stand out and how do we find ways to challenge any definitive notion that leaves voices silent. This task is at the heart of Joshua Kam’s exhilarating novel How the Man in Green Saved Pahang, and Possibly the World. Winner of the 2020 Epigram Books prize for fiction, this is a wild ride of Malaysian history and culture that appears on the surface as an high-stakes good vs evil action thriller with battling gods but has a deep philosophical heart beating within. Kam brilliantly--and seemingly effortlessly--orchestrates an abundance of ideas over two interwoven plotlines through a precision of prose that has an infectious effervescence of love, honor and respect for the Malaysian people. Through a whirlwind of plot, a diverse assortment of religious ideologies and ethnicities, and a heartfelt philosophical undercurrent, How the Man in Green is a story for those who’s stories have been waylaid or silenced by the prevailing narratives and offers a revolutionary love to ensure those stories are told.
What is immediately astonishing here is just how well Joshua Kam can navigate his own story through his prose. There are jaw-droppingly good philosophical discussions that are like a beach read in his hands, which gives an extraordinary balance of thoughtfulness with the action elements. I am particularly fond of the way Kam employs a free-indirect narration that beautifully weaves the narrative between the minds of the characters and the larger narration. This also adds a lot of charming personality to the narrative and a much-welcomed and empathetic snark, such as right from the beginning the narration tone quickly shifts into Garbriel: ‘He breathed, flicked his wrist and caught the hands of his watch under the sun’s glare on the glass. Eleven fucking fifty. He’d well missed the committee meeting at church.’ That brief dip into Gabriel’s frustration of ‘eleven fucking fifty’, or pages earlier when in a lengthy description Kahdir is ‘the bastard’, also reminds us to situate these characters as a larger part of the Malaysian narrative.
I hesitate to say the free-indirect narration weaves between individual and universal because, while there are universal messages, this is ultimately a book of Malaysia for Malaysia. Which is a good thing. Akwaeke Emezi’s latest novel does something similar in a way that framed the novel from Nigeria and not, as is often, in a way that sets the Western world as the default and Kam’s work resonates with theirs in this regard. Which isn’t to say that a non-Malaysian can’t read it or would enjoy it any less--quite the contrary--but it is honestly refreshing to see books that aren’t written to concede space to the white/western gaze. Similar to Emezi, Kam sprinkles his prose with Malaysian words, terms and cultural references without feeling the need to translate or explain them which keeps the novel grounded in Malaysia. As a white westerner, I don’t really get to—or need to—have an opinion and that is something I enjoy and respect, Im here to take it in, learn and amplify the voices that matter.
As Edward W. Said argues ‘the power to narrate, or to block other narratives from forming and emerging is very important to culture and imperialism.’ The novel is, as we’ve discussed, framed as of and for Malaysia, but this is also about the narratives that have been blocked. We have the stories of LGBTQ characters, or the communist history in Lydia’s family that are often blocked and silenced by prevailing narratives that often have government and/or religious intervention in keeping these narratives stunned and shunned. By telling this story through their perspectives, it is a beautiful reminder that these people exist, are valid and deserve a voice in the grander scheme of history. ‘We’ve been woven into this land to make it strong,’ Gabriel says to Kahdir, which reflects the collective power of the people. Or, as Mo Niang says:
‘revolutions are not a person. They are peoples. Places. Seasons. Revolutions are in the aggregate, in the many people joining up to say ‘no’. It’s not about any one of us.’
There is, however, always resistance to the powers of good. Here we find The Mouth, which is a figure that represents a cacophony of evils such as political oppression, capitalism robbing the people and land, or any of the obdurate social orders that keep voices silent and avert eyes. Kam shows us how people must rise up in defiance in order to protect what they hold most sacred and dear. Sometimes this can even be accomplished by bearing witness or unburying suppressed narratives. The Lydia portions of the novel spend a great deal of time looking at overlooked aspects of communist fighters during the occupation, and Kam’s delivery of these details through a series of rather moving letters helps to build a necessary empathy to their role.
In short, How the Man in Green Saved Pahang is a delightful good time. This is a book with a clear love for the subject matter, whether it be political history, theology, mysticism or revolutionary ideology. This book is both as tender and touching as it is action-packed, philosophical and subversive and is a good reminder that history is full of buried voices that we must find and listen to.
5/5
*This is a book I'm really thrilled to see exist. I got to see this story take it's early first steps, got to root for it when it was sent to the publisher and then later when it was nominated for an award. And then later still when he WON the prize. I'm super proud of you Josh, this is an amazing book and the world is a better place for it.
January 20, 2021
Rating: 2/5 stars
Throughout my reading I was just '???' up to a point a colleague pointed out how serious I was in my reading. Yes, serious-ly questioning EVERYTHING about this book.
The only thing that fully describes this book is that it's so chaotic. I honestly do not know where to start.
Firstly, let's talk about the elephant in the room: 'The Man in Green' himself. At the start of the book, right off the bat, the protagonist Gabe, a young chorister, meets this mysterious figure, the so-called man in green named Khidir who is known in the book as a 'wali'. So, he's really this prominent figure in Islam (how prominent? He was mentioned in the Quran) who was gifted with the power of wisdom by God. And he was said to be immortal where he kept on reappearing out of the blue throughout history, even during the funeral of Prophet Muhammad S.A.W. (pbuh)). Of course, it left me off guard and that really got me curious/interested. Then, it started to get real bad when the author decided to make him homosexual and put Gabe as his love interest. I read LGBT books religiously and my issue with this book is how unnecessary it is that it felt forced. I also did not particularly enjoy how inconsistent the character is. If he is known to be an important and wise religious figure, he's painted to be super childish in the book. And he made a mortal kombat reference as well? It's not really clear in terms of character development. Somehow it really felt like reading the author's thoughts through Khidir's voice.
Gabe was also sort of helpless and had to do what he's told - not much for his own benefits, in fact, it felt like he was scammed by Khidir to go on this journey. He was given a passive voice that he even repetitively said to stop questioning everything even if it means drinking a suspicious drink given by a bomoh (did I mention he's a member of the church?). Then, during the climax scene, Gabe decided to do a suuuuuuuuuuper long monologue about everything from politics to philosophy to the economy with some corny metaphors and similes like he's reciting the Friday prayer's sermon. He's been passive and quiet throughout the book and then this happened? He even did not know where it came from (with no explanation whatsoever after). Again, it felt like I was reading the author's thoughts and that also contributes to the inconsistency of how the author created the characters.
But I did appreciate the other characters who had a sound motif throughout the book especially Lydia & the father. I can't be bothered to talk about the lesbian grandaunt and her partner.
Secondly, the general content of the book. Yes, ideation is important when it comes to building the concept of the book. But so is editing (and filtering the content). This book is a prime example of INFO DUMP. Too many names of historical/religious figures and references were made throughout the book. Some even appeared out of nowhere in the last few chapters (I was literally still doing my "Hey Siri, who is ...?" up to the second last chapter). The cameos and the references were really unnecessary. It became super chaotic and busy that the book lost its focus. Speaking of focus, the title is very much misleading.
1) The man in Green didn't really do sh*t. He stole some artifacts in the museum though. So..., and;
2) Pahang, and possibly the world, was fine without him.
The author was surely brave in creating this book and sorta stirring the pot with all the different beliefs/religions. Is the bravery plausible? Maybe. Is the work plausible? Not really. It's one big of a mess.
But in terms of language, it's evident that the author is an intellect. His vocabulary in the book is quite extensive and used immaculately. I did not mind the mix of languages - Malay, English, Mandarin, Cantonese & Hokkien(?). But that doesn't make it permissible for the author to use offensive words/slurs. Try to refrain using them in the future. Even if this is a satirical novel, it doesn't excuse you for using words like f*ggot for a fictional work, unless justified. It's offensive to the readers.
After reading this book, I was still questioning myself about what I just read. It was not clear. The conflict, the goal. I'm still not sure and I don't think I will ever know. I don't want to know.
I don't think my review covers everything but this book is a hot mess. Super offensive and reading it was super overwhelming.
Throughout my reading I was just '???' up to a point a colleague pointed out how serious I was in my reading. Yes, serious-ly questioning EVERYTHING about this book.
The only thing that fully describes this book is that it's so chaotic. I honestly do not know where to start.
Firstly, let's talk about the elephant in the room: 'The Man in Green' himself. At the start of the book, right off the bat, the protagonist Gabe, a young chorister, meets this mysterious figure, the so-called man in green named Khidir who is known in the book as a 'wali'. So, he's really this prominent figure in Islam (how prominent? He was mentioned in the Quran) who was gifted with the power of wisdom by God. And he was said to be immortal where he kept on reappearing out of the blue throughout history, even during the funeral of Prophet Muhammad S.A.W. (pbuh)). Of course, it left me off guard and that really got me curious/interested. Then, it started to get real bad when the author decided to make him homosexual and put Gabe as his love interest. I read LGBT books religiously and my issue with this book is how unnecessary it is that it felt forced. I also did not particularly enjoy how inconsistent the character is. If he is known to be an important and wise religious figure, he's painted to be super childish in the book. And he made a mortal kombat reference as well? It's not really clear in terms of character development. Somehow it really felt like reading the author's thoughts through Khidir's voice.
Gabe was also sort of helpless and had to do what he's told - not much for his own benefits, in fact, it felt like he was scammed by Khidir to go on this journey. He was given a passive voice that he even repetitively said to stop questioning everything even if it means drinking a suspicious drink given by a bomoh (did I mention he's a member of the church?). Then, during the climax scene, Gabe decided to do a suuuuuuuuuuper long monologue about everything from politics to philosophy to the economy with some corny metaphors and similes like he's reciting the Friday prayer's sermon. He's been passive and quiet throughout the book and then this happened? He even did not know where it came from (with no explanation whatsoever after). Again, it felt like I was reading the author's thoughts and that also contributes to the inconsistency of how the author created the characters.
But I did appreciate the other characters who had a sound motif throughout the book especially Lydia & the father. I can't be bothered to talk about the lesbian grandaunt and her partner.
Secondly, the general content of the book. Yes, ideation is important when it comes to building the concept of the book. But so is editing (and filtering the content). This book is a prime example of INFO DUMP. Too many names of historical/religious figures and references were made throughout the book. Some even appeared out of nowhere in the last few chapters (I was literally still doing my "Hey Siri, who is ...?" up to the second last chapter). The cameos and the references were really unnecessary. It became super chaotic and busy that the book lost its focus. Speaking of focus, the title is very much misleading.
1) The man in Green didn't really do sh*t. He stole some artifacts in the museum though. So..., and;
2) Pahang, and possibly the world, was fine without him.
The author was surely brave in creating this book and sorta stirring the pot with all the different beliefs/religions. Is the bravery plausible? Maybe. Is the work plausible? Not really. It's one big of a mess.
But in terms of language, it's evident that the author is an intellect. His vocabulary in the book is quite extensive and used immaculately. I did not mind the mix of languages - Malay, English, Mandarin, Cantonese & Hokkien(?). But that doesn't make it permissible for the author to use offensive words/slurs. Try to refrain using them in the future. Even if this is a satirical novel, it doesn't excuse you for using words like f*ggot for a fictional work, unless justified. It's offensive to the readers.
After reading this book, I was still questioning myself about what I just read. It was not clear. The conflict, the goal. I'm still not sure and I don't think I will ever know. I don't want to know.
I don't think my review covers everything but this book is a hot mess. Super offensive and reading it was super overwhelming.
September 27, 2020
First off, I was really entranced with the premise served in this story. It’s very refreshing to see our Malaysian folklore and local history being penned down on paperbacks and being promoted on a global scale. For that, I want to congratulate the author for his brazen move in intertwining all of these tales, history of Malaya, some infamous political stuff, and a heady brew of theology into a captivating and whimsical retelling.
What makes this story more gratifying in the sense of me being a Malaysian is that the localisation in which the author did imbue the setting with some renowned places in the Malaysian Coast, Pahang such as Cherating Beach and the Muzium Abu Bakar of Pekan. I’m sure I won’t see these places the same way again after going through this whole, wild ride. Besides, I think Joshua’s imagination went beyond the limitation when he decided to immortalise these various figures coming from our Hikayats such as Tun Teja, the consort of Sultan Mahmud Shah; Laksamana Cheng Ho and briefly mentioning Hang Tuah, Hang Jebat, and other mythical characters. Well, Joshua did a good job of passing these charming and quintessential stories into our current life – making us ponder on what would be like if these figures walking and interacting amongst us.
Plot-wise, I loved the beginning and onward. It kept me on toes because this type of magical realism story is very unpredictable for readers to unfold. However, I think the culmination of the story is defeated and overshadowed by long draggy dialogues. Apart from that, the writing style is intricately woven with the word/phrase that I had to google them up but I lived for the unapologetically Malaysian and Cantonese voices in it - show how much Malaysian this book could get.
Unfortunately, there’s a delicate line between respecting and going overboard by reimagining our virtues and religions. I’m sure that the author could see this coming beforehand since he’s touched some tactful issues in which one of the main characters the author inscribed from Nabi Khidir. This issue alone propels me to plummet down my rating upon this book.
(mild spoilers ahead. TW: sensitive issue)
I'd discussed this issue with my friends and acquaintances who are more eligible in this background. Yes, as a muslim, I felt uncomfortable reading this "saint" character whom the author inscribed from Nabi Khidir (our prophet) The fact that this character proudly admitting that he's gay at the same time he prays and being introduced as "the wali", "Nabi Green", really made me uncomfortable the entire time reading it. Imagining the prophet possessing such a trait like this is considered as an act of sacrilege to us. Because of this emerging sensitive issue, I had to have rated this book 2 🌟 Probably wouldn't recommend this book to young readers and Muslim.
What makes this story more gratifying in the sense of me being a Malaysian is that the localisation in which the author did imbue the setting with some renowned places in the Malaysian Coast, Pahang such as Cherating Beach and the Muzium Abu Bakar of Pekan. I’m sure I won’t see these places the same way again after going through this whole, wild ride. Besides, I think Joshua’s imagination went beyond the limitation when he decided to immortalise these various figures coming from our Hikayats such as Tun Teja, the consort of Sultan Mahmud Shah; Laksamana Cheng Ho and briefly mentioning Hang Tuah, Hang Jebat, and other mythical characters. Well, Joshua did a good job of passing these charming and quintessential stories into our current life – making us ponder on what would be like if these figures walking and interacting amongst us.
Plot-wise, I loved the beginning and onward. It kept me on toes because this type of magical realism story is very unpredictable for readers to unfold. However, I think the culmination of the story is defeated and overshadowed by long draggy dialogues. Apart from that, the writing style is intricately woven with the word/phrase that I had to google them up but I lived for the unapologetically Malaysian and Cantonese voices in it - show how much Malaysian this book could get.
Unfortunately, there’s a delicate line between respecting and going overboard by reimagining our virtues and religions. I’m sure that the author could see this coming beforehand since he’s touched some tactful issues in which one of the main characters the author inscribed from Nabi Khidir. This issue alone propels me to plummet down my rating upon this book.
(mild spoilers ahead. TW: sensitive issue)
I'd discussed this issue with my friends and acquaintances who are more eligible in this background. Yes, as a muslim, I felt uncomfortable reading this "saint" character whom the author inscribed from Nabi Khidir (our prophet) The fact that this character proudly admitting that he's gay at the same time he prays and being introduced as "the wali", "Nabi Green", really made me uncomfortable the entire time reading it. Imagining the prophet possessing such a trait like this is considered as an act of sacrilege to us. Because of this emerging sensitive issue, I had to have rated this book 2 🌟 Probably wouldn't recommend this book to young readers and Muslim.
December 2, 2020
TW: sensitive issue, spoilers ahead
i dont even know where to start......but i know i must be honest with myself. as much as i wanted to like this book (like how i liked the title of this book at first omg catchy catchy) i find myself not being able to. :"( first and foremost, i have been reading some of the gr reviews and of course, knew about the sensitive issues that were portrayed in this book.
i told myself that i should read it with an open mind but then comes the very first sentence in the book which was "he was first spotted outside masjid jamek". translation: jamek mosque which is totally fine, until i found out that the green man wanted to go to jamek mosque because he wanted to meet Nabi Yunus, claiming that "Yunus has the fish!" (which is like a reference to the real story of prophet Yunus). later in page 50, you will find out that the green man is actually Nabi Khidir. and in page 129, you will find Nabi Khidir proudly admitting he is homosexual.
as much as i feel that this was a fiction book, especially the usage of our real prophet names as characters and one of the locations being set in a mosque; a muslim place of worship; really really makes it super uncomfortable to read in the first place. jamek mosque is also a real mosque in malaysia if youre wondering. as a muslim reader, i honestly feel that this is not okay and there are totally limits on being respectful to the religious beliefs of others even if the intentions are not meant to be that way.
i have to admit that the author is really brave in writing so (there are other sensitive issues he tackled about). i was also pretty confused at how there are so many things happening all at once, theres just no substance in the story. and not forgetting the numerous random name-dropping like yegveny, obiman & mos eisley, cs lewis - to name a few.
cant believe i actually dread myself to finish this book (also bc i was super curious lol *coughs* *winner*) & found myself feeling disappointed with everything, including the ending. what was that???? maybe its just me thats feeling this way.....:')
i dont even know where to start......but i know i must be honest with myself. as much as i wanted to like this book (like how i liked the title of this book at first omg catchy catchy) i find myself not being able to. :"( first and foremost, i have been reading some of the gr reviews and of course, knew about the sensitive issues that were portrayed in this book.
i told myself that i should read it with an open mind but then comes the very first sentence in the book which was "he was first spotted outside masjid jamek". translation: jamek mosque which is totally fine, until i found out that the green man wanted to go to jamek mosque because he wanted to meet Nabi Yunus, claiming that "Yunus has the fish!" (which is like a reference to the real story of prophet Yunus). later in page 50, you will find out that the green man is actually Nabi Khidir. and in page 129, you will find Nabi Khidir proudly admitting he is homosexual.
as much as i feel that this was a fiction book, especially the usage of our real prophet names as characters and one of the locations being set in a mosque; a muslim place of worship; really really makes it super uncomfortable to read in the first place. jamek mosque is also a real mosque in malaysia if youre wondering. as a muslim reader, i honestly feel that this is not okay and there are totally limits on being respectful to the religious beliefs of others even if the intentions are not meant to be that way.
i have to admit that the author is really brave in writing so (there are other sensitive issues he tackled about). i was also pretty confused at how there are so many things happening all at once, theres just no substance in the story. and not forgetting the numerous random name-dropping like yegveny, obiman & mos eisley, cs lewis - to name a few.
cant believe i actually dread myself to finish this book (also bc i was super curious lol *coughs* *winner*) & found myself feeling disappointed with everything, including the ending. what was that???? maybe its just me thats feeling this way.....:')
September 2, 2020
As a diasporic Malaysian, this book is very close to my heart. It helps us dream of a re-enchanted Malaysia that is absolutely grounded in its past. I read this as Kam's love letter to his country, his hopes and dreams of what it was, is, and could be. This book takes our modern, plain lives and injects into them a mystical world that has been crowded out by tall skyscrapers, palm oil machinery, trawling fish nets and various accoutrements of global capitalism: Muslim saints and Taoist gods (gods: they're just like us!) and even Malayan Communist guerillas. It's ornately written with a fast plot; a page-turner filled with philosophical musings and knick-knacks of history. Did I mention that almost everyone is gay? It's awesome.
If you are interested in ancestry, even if you're not Malaysian, then this book will be compelling. What I loved most about this book is how Kam takes the 'facts' and artifacts of archives and breathes life into them, imagining how our saintly and creaturely ancestors might talk, walk, laugh - their quirks, lovers and mad escapades. He imagines what they might say to us now, what we might say to them, and what adventures they may take us on. If anything, I wanted a bit more character interiority, tension and development, but Kam took on an ambitious scope here so it's understandable.
Novelists like Kam accomplishes what spirit mediums have historically done for us. For this treasure and gift, I am immensely grateful.
If you are interested in ancestry, even if you're not Malaysian, then this book will be compelling. What I loved most about this book is how Kam takes the 'facts' and artifacts of archives and breathes life into them, imagining how our saintly and creaturely ancestors might talk, walk, laugh - their quirks, lovers and mad escapades. He imagines what they might say to us now, what we might say to them, and what adventures they may take us on. If anything, I wanted a bit more character interiority, tension and development, but Kam took on an ambitious scope here so it's understandable.
Novelists like Kam accomplishes what spirit mediums have historically done for us. For this treasure and gift, I am immensely grateful.
November 11, 2020
This book is pretty busy. Here goes. There is a homosexual prophet, a Muslim wali; Nabi Khidir - that’s our man in green. Meet this pothead immortal Chinese sea-god. Next we have a church reader turned prophet lover boy and a clueless grandniece with, wait-for-it, another gay guerrilla fighter grandaunt. Then we have the characters from the local folklores and hikayats - Tun Teja, the Hangs, Laksamana Cheng Ho, the golden bridge and oh hi there Lord Muruga. But boy what a pity. His inclusion read like an afterthought to me. The book also tackles sensitive issues like the Emergency, the Japanese occupation, political repression, corruption, environment and of course LGBT.
The title is pretty catchy, I give the author that but there has to be a connection to the story, right? What did the man saved actually? Did he really save anything in the end? This book lack focus, there’s just too much going on. I didn’t connect to Gabe’s and Lydia’s characters at all. I think the author tried to hard to be inclusive. According to a friend it’s a norm now. Representation.
I liked how he describes the traditional house and garments, forest and jungle of Pahang and Janda Baik, scene at Cherating beach and Bkt Pelindung and don't mind the Manglish. There are other tiny details that don't make sense which really annoys me but I'm not going to share it here. I have a lot of bones to pick with this book.
You see, I do get some of it. He portrays prophets and gods as normal beings just like us mortals - with feelings and flaws. But in the end I still don't know what did they saved.
The title is pretty catchy, I give the author that but there has to be a connection to the story, right? What did the man saved actually? Did he really save anything in the end? This book lack focus, there’s just too much going on. I didn’t connect to Gabe’s and Lydia’s characters at all. I think the author tried to hard to be inclusive. According to a friend it’s a norm now. Representation.
I liked how he describes the traditional house and garments, forest and jungle of Pahang and Janda Baik, scene at Cherating beach and Bkt Pelindung and don't mind the Manglish. There are other tiny details that don't make sense which really annoys me but I'm not going to share it here. I have a lot of bones to pick with this book.
You see, I do get some of it. He portrays prophets and gods as normal beings just like us mortals - with feelings and flaws. But in the end I still don't know what did they saved.
January 19, 2021
I bought this book at Kinokuniya expecting to be wowed. After all, “Winner of the 2020 Epigram Books Fiction Prize” is clearly written on the cover, which, from the design and illustration, gives a YA vibe. That, and the book’s shelf placement at the magical worlds YA section.
Right off the bat, I’ll tell you that it is NOT a Young Adult book. The style of writing and the straight forward plot may appeal to younger readers, but the two main (mortal) protagonists are aged 25-28. Even categorizing the book under New Adult is stretching it.
The story is told via two main perspectives/narrators: Gabriel a/l Paul, and Lydia Goh in alternating chapters until their stories merge somewhere in the middle. Gabriel is swept into the story by immortals Khidir The Green (and later on Tun Teja), and Lydia by Lin Mo Niang or Mazu. The novel can be categorized as Magical Realism (more toward the magical end of the spectrum). Note that this will be important in my review/discussion later on.
The premise, from what I can understand, is that Muslim wali (elevated wise people graced by God) and gods of other faiths walked among us, and fought alongside us since olden times of Sultanates, but after Malaya reached its independence in 1957, a deal was struck between the immortal folks and the ruling coalition (Barisan Nasional) to let mortals stand on their own, and the immortals would stop meddling with mortal affairs. However, after 60 years of the same ruling party, the country had become stagnant, and the 14th General Elections in 2018 saw a massive change in the political scene and the country’s dynamics. An agent of Chaos, the Mouth, wants to somehow counter this change, and one of its forms is a minister who jumped parties (that’s about it regarding the minister’s description, but yeah not many politicians jumped ships and became a minister for the then newly appointed ruling party). Khidir, an immortal originally from one of the Arabic countries (but whose physical attributes are often described as Bangladeshi), but has a deep love for peninsular Malaysia (and her boys), wants to take The Mouth down, and rallies other immortals with the help of timid Gabriel.
Gabriel works at a Russian church, knows Arabic, and is roped into this quest when he voluntarily acted as an Arabic translator when Khidir tried to enter Masjid Jamek in the middle of KL. After a flurry of events, he ends up driving Khidir to Pekan, Pahang, and also ends up becoming Khidir’s latest lover.
Lydia, on the other hand, is clearing her late grandaunt’s house with her father when she finds old love letters between her grandaunt and another woman, Mo Niang. They were written during the Communist guerilla insurgence. Mo Niang still lives, and Lydia eventually helps her regain her immortality and returns her status as the goddess of the South China Sea.
Khidir’s and Gabriel’s story line is like Duracell rabbits on steroid. It’s pure chaos and plot-driven actions, and even their flirtations are awkward and childish. There’s no space to breathe when reading their chapters. Gabriel is a pillion rider throughout the novel, a passive passenger who doesn’t have any control, even during his climactic monologue. Heck, he even admits he doesn’t know what he’s doing during said monologue. And, truth be told, Gabe’s and Khidir’s intimate relationship doesn’t move the story anywhere. Take this bit out, and it doesn’t change the story. Shock value? Perhaps.
Lydia’s story line, on the other hand, is where this novel shines. She takes action, she takes charge. She even literally leaps into the mouth of danger. She plays an active role in her story, which, in contrast to Gabe’s story line, is character driven. There’s a certain grace in the quiet moments, and a clarity in describing her chapters. There’s tenderness in reading the letters, and her relationship with her father.
It’s as if the author is well-versed with Lydia’s environment and samples her part from real life, whereas Gabriel’s adventure is pure imagination.
OK. So now here’s where the problem comes in. When a story is categorized as Magical Realism, it has roots in reality. I’ve read 1- and 2-star reviews just because the readers were incensed that the author disrespected Islam in this novel. Khidir the Green, according to scriptures and articles, is the Prophet al-Khidr, a wise man/angel/wali who is said to be living still. He appeared in Hikayat Melayu where Hang Tuah was decreed to travel to Egypt to purchase firearms, and he came across The Green during his travel. According to definitions, wali were wise and elevated folk who were committed to follow Islamic teachings to the letter and did not commit a single sin. In this novel, however, Khidir is flamboyantly gay, and has out-of-wedlock intercourse during the day in the middle of Ramadhan. So you can imagine the outrage.
While I raised an eyebrow about his acts of sin during Ramadhan, I was willing to suspend my disbelief UNTIL he declared, “We’re becoming gods, every one.” (page 171). No matter how arrogant or how delusional or even agnostic a Muslim is, there is only the One. Again, Magical Realism, so there’s no excuse. Also, what people don’t seem to comment on, is how the author (unintentionally?) condones communism (page 166).
The second issue is the LOOOONG monologues. During Gabe’s climactic chapter, The Mouth (heh) delivers a few pages worth of monologue to defeat Khidir, and then Gabe, who’s ascended to wali-hood, defeats the minister/Mouth by delivering another long monologue, this time about the minister telling ugly lies when Gabe chooses to believe in beautiful lies until they one day become truths. Or something like that. I got really bored. Throughout this delivery, Gabe doesn’t have full control. He doesn’t know where the speech is coming from. Pillion rider, through and through. Not a good protagonist, him.
Third, Pahang didn’t need saving. The title, along with the cover, misleads. Sure, there’s a mystical gate off Pekan that’s under the minister’s control, preventing other wali and gods from returning to Peninsular Malaysia, but Pahang is never in danger in the first place. Khidir chooses it as his battlefield. Or maybe as Gabe’s soliloquy post.
The fourth, and the most grating for me, is how liberal the author is with language. Malay and Cantonese words are sprinkled in randomly with no added value. Words that can easily be replaced with English ones without altering their meanings, such as parang (machete), kampung (village), lorong (alley) and such. Characters who talk with speech tags (..said in Cantonese) have sentences written in English with Cantonese inflections. Same with Malay speech tags. It’s already understood that the characters are speaking in said languages. Tun Teja speaks in Hikayat Malay (classic Malay I suppose), but with modern Malay inflections, making her speech pattern anachronistic. And these are not limited to words in local languages. The liberal and improper usage of words are also in English. “The minister’s pain sang through Gabriel’s own consciousness, and his whole body was alight in flagellation (pages 252-253).” Nowhere in the scene is anyone even conceptually flogging anyone for religious/sexual gratification. The author also likes the word luminate/luminous, and prefers illumed over illuminated. But when I came across this sentence, “For even if we concede every tittle of what you said, (page 259)” – I may be wrong, but it’s a wrong usage of ‘tittle’ – things started to click. Flagellation, illumed, tittle. Words in the Bible. Do they have anything to do with the author’s upbringing and background? Maybe. Is this why the book touches on theology? Maybe. It’s an observation, but the linguist in me got a massive headache every time I came across the liberal use of language. Also, another observation, it’s as if the editors gave up toward the end, somewhere along the monologues, because this part is where I find the most typos and misused words.
One most amusing observation is the author is careful when describing the minister and the political environment, but tramples on religious issues without a care. Why this is so, I’ll let you figure out yourself.
Two stars for the misleading title and cover, language and religious disregard, chaotic story line. But Lydia’s part is the saving grace. Stayed for her. Bumping up to 3 stars because of her. Judging from Lydia’s story line alone, I do believe that the author has the potential for something great.
Right off the bat, I’ll tell you that it is NOT a Young Adult book. The style of writing and the straight forward plot may appeal to younger readers, but the two main (mortal) protagonists are aged 25-28. Even categorizing the book under New Adult is stretching it.
The story is told via two main perspectives/narrators: Gabriel a/l Paul, and Lydia Goh in alternating chapters until their stories merge somewhere in the middle. Gabriel is swept into the story by immortals Khidir The Green (and later on Tun Teja), and Lydia by Lin Mo Niang or Mazu. The novel can be categorized as Magical Realism (more toward the magical end of the spectrum). Note that this will be important in my review/discussion later on.
The premise, from what I can understand, is that Muslim wali (elevated wise people graced by God) and gods of other faiths walked among us, and fought alongside us since olden times of Sultanates, but after Malaya reached its independence in 1957, a deal was struck between the immortal folks and the ruling coalition (Barisan Nasional) to let mortals stand on their own, and the immortals would stop meddling with mortal affairs. However, after 60 years of the same ruling party, the country had become stagnant, and the 14th General Elections in 2018 saw a massive change in the political scene and the country’s dynamics. An agent of Chaos, the Mouth, wants to somehow counter this change, and one of its forms is a minister who jumped parties (that’s about it regarding the minister’s description, but yeah not many politicians jumped ships and became a minister for the then newly appointed ruling party). Khidir, an immortal originally from one of the Arabic countries (but whose physical attributes are often described as Bangladeshi), but has a deep love for peninsular Malaysia (and her boys), wants to take The Mouth down, and rallies other immortals with the help of timid Gabriel.
Gabriel works at a Russian church, knows Arabic, and is roped into this quest when he voluntarily acted as an Arabic translator when Khidir tried to enter Masjid Jamek in the middle of KL. After a flurry of events, he ends up driving Khidir to Pekan, Pahang, and also ends up becoming Khidir’s latest lover.
Lydia, on the other hand, is clearing her late grandaunt’s house with her father when she finds old love letters between her grandaunt and another woman, Mo Niang. They were written during the Communist guerilla insurgence. Mo Niang still lives, and Lydia eventually helps her regain her immortality and returns her status as the goddess of the South China Sea.
Khidir’s and Gabriel’s story line is like Duracell rabbits on steroid. It’s pure chaos and plot-driven actions, and even their flirtations are awkward and childish. There’s no space to breathe when reading their chapters. Gabriel is a pillion rider throughout the novel, a passive passenger who doesn’t have any control, even during his climactic monologue. Heck, he even admits he doesn’t know what he’s doing during said monologue. And, truth be told, Gabe’s and Khidir’s intimate relationship doesn’t move the story anywhere. Take this bit out, and it doesn’t change the story. Shock value? Perhaps.
Lydia’s story line, on the other hand, is where this novel shines. She takes action, she takes charge. She even literally leaps into the mouth of danger. She plays an active role in her story, which, in contrast to Gabe’s story line, is character driven. There’s a certain grace in the quiet moments, and a clarity in describing her chapters. There’s tenderness in reading the letters, and her relationship with her father.
It’s as if the author is well-versed with Lydia’s environment and samples her part from real life, whereas Gabriel’s adventure is pure imagination.
OK. So now here’s where the problem comes in. When a story is categorized as Magical Realism, it has roots in reality. I’ve read 1- and 2-star reviews just because the readers were incensed that the author disrespected Islam in this novel. Khidir the Green, according to scriptures and articles, is the Prophet al-Khidr, a wise man/angel/wali who is said to be living still. He appeared in Hikayat Melayu where Hang Tuah was decreed to travel to Egypt to purchase firearms, and he came across The Green during his travel. According to definitions, wali were wise and elevated folk who were committed to follow Islamic teachings to the letter and did not commit a single sin. In this novel, however, Khidir is flamboyantly gay, and has out-of-wedlock intercourse during the day in the middle of Ramadhan. So you can imagine the outrage.
While I raised an eyebrow about his acts of sin during Ramadhan, I was willing to suspend my disbelief UNTIL he declared, “We’re becoming gods, every one.” (page 171). No matter how arrogant or how delusional or even agnostic a Muslim is, there is only the One. Again, Magical Realism, so there’s no excuse. Also, what people don’t seem to comment on, is how the author (unintentionally?) condones communism (page 166).
The second issue is the LOOOONG monologues. During Gabe’s climactic chapter, The Mouth (heh) delivers a few pages worth of monologue to defeat Khidir, and then Gabe, who’s ascended to wali-hood, defeats the minister/Mouth by delivering another long monologue, this time about the minister telling ugly lies when Gabe chooses to believe in beautiful lies until they one day become truths. Or something like that. I got really bored. Throughout this delivery, Gabe doesn’t have full control. He doesn’t know where the speech is coming from. Pillion rider, through and through. Not a good protagonist, him.
Third, Pahang didn’t need saving. The title, along with the cover, misleads. Sure, there’s a mystical gate off Pekan that’s under the minister’s control, preventing other wali and gods from returning to Peninsular Malaysia, but Pahang is never in danger in the first place. Khidir chooses it as his battlefield. Or maybe as Gabe’s soliloquy post.
The fourth, and the most grating for me, is how liberal the author is with language. Malay and Cantonese words are sprinkled in randomly with no added value. Words that can easily be replaced with English ones without altering their meanings, such as parang (machete), kampung (village), lorong (alley) and such. Characters who talk with speech tags (..said in Cantonese) have sentences written in English with Cantonese inflections. Same with Malay speech tags. It’s already understood that the characters are speaking in said languages. Tun Teja speaks in Hikayat Malay (classic Malay I suppose), but with modern Malay inflections, making her speech pattern anachronistic. And these are not limited to words in local languages. The liberal and improper usage of words are also in English. “The minister’s pain sang through Gabriel’s own consciousness, and his whole body was alight in flagellation (pages 252-253).” Nowhere in the scene is anyone even conceptually flogging anyone for religious/sexual gratification. The author also likes the word luminate/luminous, and prefers illumed over illuminated. But when I came across this sentence, “For even if we concede every tittle of what you said, (page 259)” – I may be wrong, but it’s a wrong usage of ‘tittle’ – things started to click. Flagellation, illumed, tittle. Words in the Bible. Do they have anything to do with the author’s upbringing and background? Maybe. Is this why the book touches on theology? Maybe. It’s an observation, but the linguist in me got a massive headache every time I came across the liberal use of language. Also, another observation, it’s as if the editors gave up toward the end, somewhere along the monologues, because this part is where I find the most typos and misused words.
One most amusing observation is the author is careful when describing the minister and the political environment, but tramples on religious issues without a care. Why this is so, I’ll let you figure out yourself.
Two stars for the misleading title and cover, language and religious disregard, chaotic story line. But Lydia’s part is the saving grace. Stayed for her. Bumping up to 3 stars because of her. Judging from Lydia’s story line alone, I do believe that the author has the potential for something great.
December 30, 2020
"Revolution's fashionable as long as no one means something by it. But revolutions are never about what we mean, and sometimes it's barely about what we do. It's mostly about fighting until the work's done and the sources of the rot burned - and not just pardoned"
I decided to pick up this book (winner of the 2020 Epigram Books Fiction Prize) after reading some interesting diverse reviews.
The story was set after the 14th Malaysian General Election in 2018 whereby the Opposition won a simple majority and ended the uninterrupted reign of Barisan National since 1957. We then follow the journey of Gabriel, together with Khidir (the man in green, who also corresponds to al-Khidr mentioned in the Quran as a righteous servant of God), Lydia, and Mo Niang (i.e. Ma Zu, the Chinese sea god) in awakening the old "wali" (or the old gods/divine beings) and to stop the evil plans of the Mouth (the villain of the story, who now takes the form of a corrupted Minister). This premise was interlaced with Malaysian folklore, myths, history, politics, the culture, language, and slang of the 3 main races (i.e. Malay, Chinese and Indian). Prima facie, this book seems to fall under the category of magical realism but to me, it is more than that. The author managed to instill plenty of huge concepts into this story: post-colonial theories, ancestry, religious arguments, LGBT elements, his views and cynical comments on certain politicians and the state of Malaysia's politics, the true meaning of revolution.
This book is so full of Malaysian colors: the historical characters and the gods (albeit described in a FICTIONAL manner, emphasis added), the places that I used to visit...At times, the concept of this book reminds me of Neil Gaiman's American Gods (i.e. the reviving of the old gods) but from the Malaysian perspective. However, one of the shortcomings of this book is that the themes/ideas may not be tied up to the plot and characterization in a fluent manner. The dialogues seem to be a little forced to me as well. For example, Gabriel and Khidir's "speech" during the final standoff with the Mouth seems to be a little out of place though the content of the speech is amazing. Apart from that, at this young age, I do think that the author's work is ambitious, courageous, and I think it deserves a 4/5 star rating.
I decided to pick up this book (winner of the 2020 Epigram Books Fiction Prize) after reading some interesting diverse reviews.
The story was set after the 14th Malaysian General Election in 2018 whereby the Opposition won a simple majority and ended the uninterrupted reign of Barisan National since 1957. We then follow the journey of Gabriel, together with Khidir (the man in green, who also corresponds to al-Khidr mentioned in the Quran as a righteous servant of God), Lydia, and Mo Niang (i.e. Ma Zu, the Chinese sea god) in awakening the old "wali" (or the old gods/divine beings) and to stop the evil plans of the Mouth (the villain of the story, who now takes the form of a corrupted Minister). This premise was interlaced with Malaysian folklore, myths, history, politics, the culture, language, and slang of the 3 main races (i.e. Malay, Chinese and Indian). Prima facie, this book seems to fall under the category of magical realism but to me, it is more than that. The author managed to instill plenty of huge concepts into this story: post-colonial theories, ancestry, religious arguments, LGBT elements, his views and cynical comments on certain politicians and the state of Malaysia's politics, the true meaning of revolution.
This book is so full of Malaysian colors: the historical characters and the gods (albeit described in a FICTIONAL manner, emphasis added), the places that I used to visit...At times, the concept of this book reminds me of Neil Gaiman's American Gods (i.e. the reviving of the old gods) but from the Malaysian perspective. However, one of the shortcomings of this book is that the themes/ideas may not be tied up to the plot and characterization in a fluent manner. The dialogues seem to be a little forced to me as well. For example, Gabriel and Khidir's "speech" during the final standoff with the Mouth seems to be a little out of place though the content of the speech is amazing. Apart from that, at this young age, I do think that the author's work is ambitious, courageous, and I think it deserves a 4/5 star rating.
March 5, 2025
How The Man in Green Saved Pahang, and Possibly The World is the story about gods and how a group of misfits saved the world with unity. Its truly a lyrical story and very well thought through as well as very well written. It's not a surprise there that it won the 2020 Epigram Books Fiction Prize.
I have something to clear first before I venture into everything else. I was really excited to read this book when I first found out about it. So, 50 pages in and everything was going pretty well. It was after that, I found something very concerning. Its fine to write about a god, called as a saint in a fictional world but when you link it with Islam where the character, based on the prophet 'Nabi Khidir' who does questionable things, the opposite of the values taught in the religion, the faith and respect they deserve. There is a fine line between respect and contemption and this one fares toward the latter.
As for the plot, it was quite a decent read. It was a pretty fun read and I love how familiar everything is. The places set in this story, some of the the myths, the disparity of the characters who despite all odds, were brought together to defeat a common enemy. The goal to defeat evil, saving the world and bring the walis in action again may just be the one thing to restore order in the world.
It's fine to pick up this book just for a light read but I warn you to not take anything to heart especially for muslims. You may find it controversial or even feel strongly for it but after all, this is a fictional book and it isn't real. So take it lightly and just remember that not everyone shares the same worldview as you and have the same opinions, it is bound to be varied so heed my warnings and approach warily.
I have something to clear first before I venture into everything else. I was really excited to read this book when I first found out about it. So, 50 pages in and everything was going pretty well. It was after that, I found something very concerning. Its fine to write about a god, called as a saint in a fictional world but when you link it with Islam where the character, based on the prophet 'Nabi Khidir' who does questionable things, the opposite of the values taught in the religion, the faith and respect they deserve. There is a fine line between respect and contemption and this one fares toward the latter.
As for the plot, it was quite a decent read. It was a pretty fun read and I love how familiar everything is. The places set in this story, some of the the myths, the disparity of the characters who despite all odds, were brought together to defeat a common enemy. The goal to defeat evil, saving the world and bring the walis in action again may just be the one thing to restore order in the world.
It's fine to pick up this book just for a light read but I warn you to not take anything to heart especially for muslims. You may find it controversial or even feel strongly for it but after all, this is a fictional book and it isn't real. So take it lightly and just remember that not everyone shares the same worldview as you and have the same opinions, it is bound to be varied so heed my warnings and approach warily.
September 23, 2020
The full review can be found on my blog at https://bookieecookiee.wordpress.com/...
February 19, 2021
What the hell did I just read?
This book felt like it needed a harder editor's touch. It gives the strong impression of being written by somebody who really enjoys the sound of their own voice. Paper-thin characterisation, no attempts to assure the reader about the presence of a plot, and vaguely ideological monologues for days. Everybody sounds like they are on the cusp of saying something important, but they never do. The book culminates in a bloviating monologue by the villain, who is then cast down by another monologue by the guy that's been bemused in the passenger seat for most of the book. Some might want to stay for Lydia, as other reviewers have said.
For the rest, I offer this excerpt, with the warning that the rest of the book goes on like this, humorlessly self-important:
"All this pretence is ginger strewn on rotting fish, for the grey of your ash shall never in a thousand years be anything but ash, never soil. But brown are our good bodies—brown like the dirt, black as the mud beneath the river, gold as the sides of the mountain at evening, yellow as the limestone cliffs."
This book felt like it needed a harder editor's touch. It gives the strong impression of being written by somebody who really enjoys the sound of their own voice. Paper-thin characterisation, no attempts to assure the reader about the presence of a plot, and vaguely ideological monologues for days. Everybody sounds like they are on the cusp of saying something important, but they never do. The book culminates in a bloviating monologue by the villain, who is then cast down by another monologue by the guy that's been bemused in the passenger seat for most of the book. Some might want to stay for Lydia, as other reviewers have said.
For the rest, I offer this excerpt, with the warning that the rest of the book goes on like this, humorlessly self-important:
"All this pretence is ginger strewn on rotting fish, for the grey of your ash shall never in a thousand years be anything but ash, never soil. But brown are our good bodies—brown like the dirt, black as the mud beneath the river, gold as the sides of the mountain at evening, yellow as the limestone cliffs."
September 26, 2020
A beautifully written, richly-woven adventure! How the Man in Green Saved Pahang, and Possibly the World struck the perfect balance of action, wit, pondering existential/spiritual questions, and looking at the beauty and heartbreak of love in its many forms. I'll be honest that for most of the book I felt just as confused as Lydia and Gabe were about what was going on and where the adventure was heading. However, I enjoyed every minute of the ride and toward the end, everything clicked into place for a pretty spectacular grand finale. Recommend for those who love a good reimagining of mythology- on my bookshelf this is going next to the The Gods of Jade and Shadow. I wish there were more books out there like this one so that I could stay in this magical world longer (in other words...please write more books!).
January 23, 2021
Listen to the Two Book Nerds Talking’s interview with Joshua Kam here https://www.spreaker.com/user/renegad...
September 27, 2020
A dual narrative, How The Man in Green Saved Pahang, and Possibly the World begins with a commotion at a local mosque where the gay church reader Gabriel Paul (Gabe) witnesses the resurrection of a murdered blogger by the titular Islamic prophet named Khidir (presumably Nabi Khidir). Having been hijacked by Khidir into a mission of saving the country from the Mouth, Gabe travels with him across the Peninsula Malaysia to Pahang. This is interwoven with the story of Lydia Goh, whose grandaunt Toh Yun has recently passed away and left behind a series of letters which reveals her experiences and yearnings as a lesbian communist guerilla fighter resisting the Japanese Occupation in Malaya. Lydia’s encounter with the grandaunt’s queer lover Mo Niang leads to a revelatory night hiking, followed by the the duo joining hands with Gabe and Khidir to fight against the increasingly menacing Mouth. The result is a boisterous and multicultural adventure story which is marked by the appearances and mentions of characters and historical figures from hikayat and Nusantara region, as well as those of deities from various local cultures.
___
On the surface, it reads nothing more than an adventure story. In my opinion, it is a story about the small and big things about being a Malaysian or generally about Malaysia. Faith, identity, sexuality, and ancestry are those small things belonging to one’s personal sphere, which are affected by or the results of big things, including history, politics, environment, and capitalism. Thus, the interconnectedness between small and big things: Gabe’s identity as a closeted Indian is the product of Malaysian government’s intolerance against homosexuality; Lydia’s initial ignorance of her ancestry is perhaps related to the hidden histories silenced by the dominant narrative. History is written by the victors. The omnipresent and foul-smelling Mouth in the story is the embodiment of what has gone wrong with the country, including the greed of politicians, political repression, and the never-ending capitalist development at the expense of mother nature.
The evil of Mouth is counteracted by the righteousness of characters of hikayat, of historical figures from the Malay Archipelago, and divine beings. The incorporation of Toh Yun’s forbidden letters is perhaps the most astonishing part of all, for it demonstrates the facts that the Communist guerrilla warfare did contribute to the resistance against the Japanese Occupation and the roles of women in it; and lesbianism is not some essential Western idea forced upon Asian societies, love between women has always been around us. Such an authorial effort can be deemed an inspiring one through which Kam has successfully written the lesser-known or suppressed facts and anecdotes back into history.
The other highlight of this book is the author’s natural and accurate representation of Manglish. Despite the lengthy dialogues which are at times overwhelming, the characters speak the aforesaid language in a fluent and not-stilted-at-all manner. For that, I thank the author. All in all, despite, in my humble opinion, the slightly vague representation of Mouth, Man in Green is overall an original, bold, and ambitious debut novel which is undoubtedly a unapologetically Malaysian novel in making.
___
On the surface, it reads nothing more than an adventure story. In my opinion, it is a story about the small and big things about being a Malaysian or generally about Malaysia. Faith, identity, sexuality, and ancestry are those small things belonging to one’s personal sphere, which are affected by or the results of big things, including history, politics, environment, and capitalism. Thus, the interconnectedness between small and big things: Gabe’s identity as a closeted Indian is the product of Malaysian government’s intolerance against homosexuality; Lydia’s initial ignorance of her ancestry is perhaps related to the hidden histories silenced by the dominant narrative. History is written by the victors. The omnipresent and foul-smelling Mouth in the story is the embodiment of what has gone wrong with the country, including the greed of politicians, political repression, and the never-ending capitalist development at the expense of mother nature.
The evil of Mouth is counteracted by the righteousness of characters of hikayat, of historical figures from the Malay Archipelago, and divine beings. The incorporation of Toh Yun’s forbidden letters is perhaps the most astonishing part of all, for it demonstrates the facts that the Communist guerrilla warfare did contribute to the resistance against the Japanese Occupation and the roles of women in it; and lesbianism is not some essential Western idea forced upon Asian societies, love between women has always been around us. Such an authorial effort can be deemed an inspiring one through which Kam has successfully written the lesser-known or suppressed facts and anecdotes back into history.
The other highlight of this book is the author’s natural and accurate representation of Manglish. Despite the lengthy dialogues which are at times overwhelming, the characters speak the aforesaid language in a fluent and not-stilted-at-all manner. For that, I thank the author. All in all, despite, in my humble opinion, the slightly vague representation of Mouth, Man in Green is overall an original, bold, and ambitious debut novel which is undoubtedly a unapologetically Malaysian novel in making.
March 4, 2025
I believe there is a bold line between fantasy and religion.
And never in my life time would i imagine a Prophet to be a gay?
Rosak agama kerana nafsu.
The heck did i just read?
And never in my life time would i imagine a Prophet to be a gay?
Rosak agama kerana nafsu.
The heck did i just read?
July 9, 2021
A mess. Too much of the story is filled my the miraculous and fantastical (lots of “I don’t know what is happening, but it’s happening). Halfway through the book, and I still felt like I was without context and completely directionless. Has some nice turns of language and very memorable lines. I can even appreciate the radical politics written under the faint guise of other things, they felt true to the characters and not incongruous to the story.
December 2, 2020
i really really try to put myself into his position as a writer and his intention of writing this book. i appreciate the effort of him writing this book and being the winner of 2020 Epigram Books Fiction Prize. congratulations on that part and i hope he's open to criticisms when it comes to being a writer.
There are a lot of controversial topics being used (not discussed) such as cultural backgrounds, religion beliefs and sexual orientations in this book. There is no issues with it. it is applaudable to be brave to use such topics, HOWEVER i believe there are boundaries that should be set. I understand that he may want to be as inclusive as it gets, for readers to feel included despite their differences especially in the conflict of sexual orientation and religion belief. But, i still feel it is a matter of respect, especially when he decides to use the history of Prophets (even their names) as the characters in this story. It is not simply "for all of our tangled histories to mingle".
I shall reserve my opinion on certain topics that were used as I am not well-versed in them but as a fantasy book based on mythology, it should be taken very seriously with the use of the characters.
There are a lot of controversial topics being used (not discussed) such as cultural backgrounds, religion beliefs and sexual orientations in this book. There is no issues with it. it is applaudable to be brave to use such topics, HOWEVER i believe there are boundaries that should be set. I understand that he may want to be as inclusive as it gets, for readers to feel included despite their differences especially in the conflict of sexual orientation and religion belief. But, i still feel it is a matter of respect, especially when he decides to use the history of Prophets (even their names) as the characters in this story. It is not simply "for all of our tangled histories to mingle".
I shall reserve my opinion on certain topics that were used as I am not well-versed in them but as a fantasy book based on mythology, it should be taken very seriously with the use of the characters.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
December 23, 2021
This book felt so fantastical and yet so familiar. Reading How The Man in Green Saved Pahang whilst living through Malaysia’s current political climate was an experience like no other. This book represented the Malaysia of my generation and perhaps just as Gabriel had wanted, at least if only in the premises of those 291 pages, I believed the beautiful lie that there is still hope for our Malaysia.
May 11, 2021
Did not blend [the story] in well for me. Stop reading halfway.
August 22, 2023
A magnificent Malaysian matryoshka doll of mysteries both mystical and mundane. Sure, the title tells you how it ends, but it’s more about the journey than the destination.
March 18, 2021
Joshua Kam's debut book is ambitious, rambunctiously imaginative and wholly original. While it can be read from a myriad of angles eg. political manifesto, environmental bugle alarm call, historical reference reminder, rollicking adventure story, I read it as a love letter to Malaysia. The love for Malaysia shines through and also hope for a better Malaysia. What would a Malaysia whose politicians are not corrupt and in collusion, which didn't put profits before citizens' well-being, which didn't have land swallowed up by palm tree plantations, which didn't let factories pollute its rivers, which didn't prosecute its homosexual members like criminals, which respected refugee rights look like?
This book is chalk full of allusions, references and dialect languages that Malaysians would appreciate and chuckle about. My mother is from Malaysia (Klang) belonging to a huge extended Hokkein family and like Kam, we used to take these family trips up the coast to Pahang, Penang, Trengganu or down to Malacca. I reveled in nostalgia about Kuantan kopitiams famous for a particular dish, cinchau (grass jelly drink - cooling in the heat, one of my favourites in childhood) and words like tumpang (ride along with), gila (Malay for crazy), kongsi (Hokkein for share or company). My aunt used to ferry us around in her little Proton Saga (local make of car company) while in the book, there was a Proton Tiara. Although I vaguely remember studying about Hang Tuah in school in Singapore, I'm not familiar with the mythology of Khidir from the Hikayat Hang Tuah, Sufi saint clothed in emerald green and ancient sea emissary travelling to countries and coasts preaching pacifism over warmongering and imperialism. The opening scene of a newly awakened Khidir trying to gain entry to a mosque speaking archaic Arabic and performing a resurrection certainly arrested my attention.
The other point Kam I think makes is that in order to understand how Malaysia got to where it is, we need to delve into and understand its history and traditions. As far back as more than five hundred years ago to when current individual states had sultanates and Admiral eunuch Cheng Ho (Zheng He) visited the ports of Pahang and Malacca during Ming Dynasty China to a more 'recent' twentieth century Malayan Emergency to the current timeline of just after the 2018 national election. Back to where krises and diadems were not museum artifacts but objects of ceremony and symbolism. When the map of Asia and its ports, its boundaries and delineations, were different and everchanging. When Malaysia was mostly jungle. The impact of British colonialism and its aftermath, then Merdeka (Independence). Mythological pantheon of wali like goddess of the sea Mo Niang, spirits and guardians turned into stone or in slumber and historical figures like Queen of Melaka Tun Teja interweave the narrative of resistance. I also liked the discussion of theology, usually by Gabe, a Christian cleric, on whether God is wrong or absent and of evil/Shaitan represented here as the ever devouring ravenous Mouth. The Mouth takes advantage of human greed and avarice; resulting in breathtaking national theft like the 1 MDB scandal. Malaysia has been plundered time and time again by external and internal forces, can it recover and realize its true potential?
Attention is drawn too to the history of 'pondans' (colloquial term for homosexuals) in Malaysia and China, with reference to cut sleeves . A group of people that is silenced, denigrated, abused, murdered; erased from the annals of national history. In many respects, Joshua Kam's writing resembles that of Arundhati Roy's, the celebrated Indian activist writer who has written about India's marginalised people - in The Ministry of Utmost Happiness highlighting hijras and their historical role as brave warriors in India's palaces as opposed to their current pitiful shunned status. They also write scathingly of real life politicians of their home countries, thinly veiled fictional minister and government official characters, recognizable to those who follow the news. These authors remind us of the existence of their countries' indigenous people; in Malaysia's case, the Orang Asli.
Categorizing this book is difficult, it certainly is not solely Malaysian fantasy and despite loving the mythology parts, I wouldn't slot Joshua Kam next to other Malaysian fantasy writers like Zen Cho and Cassandra Khaw. Instead, I'd probably mentally place him alongside social commentary Malaysian contemporary literary writers like Tash Aw and Tan Twa Eng. The adventure heist aspects were the least favourite parts of the book for me but yes to reference to bomohs and roadside altars and Lebuhraya Jambatan Emas (golden bridge highway)! And to daughters universally addressed as 'Ah Girl'! Unapologetically Malaysian and challenging Malaysians to imagine what Malaysia could be, I am very interested in following where Joshua Kam's unique idiosyncratic and dare I say groundbreaking writing style and career will lead. Thanks too to Epigram Books for giving this book a home and showcasing it with the 2020 Epigram Prize.
Addendum/Correction: I was telling my mom about this book and she kindly corrected my erroneous memory of what 'pondan' meant. It's not homosexual but transvestite or cross-dresser. In the book, the homosexual characters point out that LGTB individuals have existed throughout history.
This book is chalk full of allusions, references and dialect languages that Malaysians would appreciate and chuckle about. My mother is from Malaysia (Klang) belonging to a huge extended Hokkein family and like Kam, we used to take these family trips up the coast to Pahang, Penang, Trengganu or down to Malacca. I reveled in nostalgia about Kuantan kopitiams famous for a particular dish, cinchau (grass jelly drink - cooling in the heat, one of my favourites in childhood) and words like tumpang (ride along with), gila (Malay for crazy), kongsi (Hokkein for share or company). My aunt used to ferry us around in her little Proton Saga (local make of car company) while in the book, there was a Proton Tiara. Although I vaguely remember studying about Hang Tuah in school in Singapore, I'm not familiar with the mythology of Khidir from the Hikayat Hang Tuah, Sufi saint clothed in emerald green and ancient sea emissary travelling to countries and coasts preaching pacifism over warmongering and imperialism. The opening scene of a newly awakened Khidir trying to gain entry to a mosque speaking archaic Arabic and performing a resurrection certainly arrested my attention.
The other point Kam I think makes is that in order to understand how Malaysia got to where it is, we need to delve into and understand its history and traditions. As far back as more than five hundred years ago to when current individual states had sultanates and Admiral eunuch Cheng Ho (Zheng He) visited the ports of Pahang and Malacca during Ming Dynasty China to a more 'recent' twentieth century Malayan Emergency to the current timeline of just after the 2018 national election. Back to where krises and diadems were not museum artifacts but objects of ceremony and symbolism. When the map of Asia and its ports, its boundaries and delineations, were different and everchanging. When Malaysia was mostly jungle. The impact of British colonialism and its aftermath, then Merdeka (Independence). Mythological pantheon of wali like goddess of the sea Mo Niang, spirits and guardians turned into stone or in slumber and historical figures like Queen of Melaka Tun Teja interweave the narrative of resistance. I also liked the discussion of theology, usually by Gabe, a Christian cleric, on whether God is wrong or absent and of evil/Shaitan represented here as the ever devouring ravenous Mouth. The Mouth takes advantage of human greed and avarice; resulting in breathtaking national theft like the 1 MDB scandal. Malaysia has been plundered time and time again by external and internal forces, can it recover and realize its true potential?
Attention is drawn too to the history of 'pondans' (colloquial term for homosexuals) in Malaysia and China, with reference to cut sleeves . A group of people that is silenced, denigrated, abused, murdered; erased from the annals of national history. In many respects, Joshua Kam's writing resembles that of Arundhati Roy's, the celebrated Indian activist writer who has written about India's marginalised people - in The Ministry of Utmost Happiness highlighting hijras and their historical role as brave warriors in India's palaces as opposed to their current pitiful shunned status. They also write scathingly of real life politicians of their home countries, thinly veiled fictional minister and government official characters, recognizable to those who follow the news. These authors remind us of the existence of their countries' indigenous people; in Malaysia's case, the Orang Asli.
Categorizing this book is difficult, it certainly is not solely Malaysian fantasy and despite loving the mythology parts, I wouldn't slot Joshua Kam next to other Malaysian fantasy writers like Zen Cho and Cassandra Khaw. Instead, I'd probably mentally place him alongside social commentary Malaysian contemporary literary writers like Tash Aw and Tan Twa Eng. The adventure heist aspects were the least favourite parts of the book for me but yes to reference to bomohs and roadside altars and Lebuhraya Jambatan Emas (golden bridge highway)! And to daughters universally addressed as 'Ah Girl'! Unapologetically Malaysian and challenging Malaysians to imagine what Malaysia could be, I am very interested in following where Joshua Kam's unique idiosyncratic and dare I say groundbreaking writing style and career will lead. Thanks too to Epigram Books for giving this book a home and showcasing it with the 2020 Epigram Prize.
Addendum/Correction: I was telling my mom about this book and she kindly corrected my erroneous memory of what 'pondan' meant. It's not homosexual but transvestite or cross-dresser. In the book, the homosexual characters point out that LGTB individuals have existed throughout history.
December 26, 2022
Interesting read, about deities, homosexualities, nationhood - you have to really understand local Malaysian cultures to appreciate (maybe footnotes help?).
+ fresh ideas;
- too messy with too many characters/themes.
+ fresh ideas;
- too messy with too many characters/themes.
July 22, 2021
Joshua Kam is another Malaysian writer who has put Malaysia on the literary map as the youngest winner of the 2020 Epigram Books Prize!
This novel follows the whirlwhind journey of Gabriel and Khidir, as well as Lydia and Mo Niang in their quest to awaken old wali and save the world from the wicked schemes of the Mouth. To successfully win their war in Pekan, they have to meet and form alliances with historical and mystical figures from Southeast Asian legends.
This narration is brilliant as Kam could seamlessly interlace folklore, myths, history, politics, culture and also language. Even though, at times, I am uncomfortable with the slang used, I still appreciate Kam’s effort as to date, only few Asian writers dare to experiment the extent to which Asian-based pidgins and creole are acceptable to global audience.
I also love how familiar the locations are as well as how real the characters are. My drive through Karak highway will never be the same again, as I’m certain that I would now definitely look around for signs of Tun Teja, if not the Golden Highway. However, Kam should have limited the length of dialogues and monologues. They could be too much at times, which had been irritating.
All in all, this book represents Malaysia in a unique light since it has elements of magical realism that have yet been explored by many Malaysian, or even Southeast Asian writers. There have been too much exposure on Greek mythology, hence efforts to popularise Southeast Asian mythology legends such as Mo Niang, Cheng Ho and Tun Teja should be applauded. If Poseidon could be famous for guarding seas in Greek mythology, Mo Niang or Thepharak (Pak) should be as well in Southeast Asia mythology.
Some readers may dislike this book because of how Nabi Khidir is presented in it. It is crucial to remember, however, that this novel is a work of fiction, and the characters are interpreted based on the author's imagination, which may or may not be supported by proper research.
This novel follows the whirlwhind journey of Gabriel and Khidir, as well as Lydia and Mo Niang in their quest to awaken old wali and save the world from the wicked schemes of the Mouth. To successfully win their war in Pekan, they have to meet and form alliances with historical and mystical figures from Southeast Asian legends.
This narration is brilliant as Kam could seamlessly interlace folklore, myths, history, politics, culture and also language. Even though, at times, I am uncomfortable with the slang used, I still appreciate Kam’s effort as to date, only few Asian writers dare to experiment the extent to which Asian-based pidgins and creole are acceptable to global audience.
I also love how familiar the locations are as well as how real the characters are. My drive through Karak highway will never be the same again, as I’m certain that I would now definitely look around for signs of Tun Teja, if not the Golden Highway. However, Kam should have limited the length of dialogues and monologues. They could be too much at times, which had been irritating.
All in all, this book represents Malaysia in a unique light since it has elements of magical realism that have yet been explored by many Malaysian, or even Southeast Asian writers. There have been too much exposure on Greek mythology, hence efforts to popularise Southeast Asian mythology legends such as Mo Niang, Cheng Ho and Tun Teja should be applauded. If Poseidon could be famous for guarding seas in Greek mythology, Mo Niang or Thepharak (Pak) should be as well in Southeast Asia mythology.
Some readers may dislike this book because of how Nabi Khidir is presented in it. It is crucial to remember, however, that this novel is a work of fiction, and the characters are interpreted based on the author's imagination, which may or may not be supported by proper research.
November 22, 2022
149📱🇲🇾MALAYSIA 🇲🇾I started this book two months ago, and I admit it was a struggle in the end. I loved the other @epigrambooks fiction prize winners, and was looking for a book for Malaysia, so I thought Kim’a debut novel would be a winner. Sadly, not for me. The first part was great, but it became overly complicated and too fantastical in the middle and I became confused and befuddled by the end😣And the unexpected gay sex scene really (it seems every book has to have one at the moment) was too much🙅🏻♀️ Things get interesting when a renegade (homosexual) prophet, Khadir, vanishes in a cloud of pigeons in Kuala Lumpur. Our Russian Orthodox chorister and first witness Gabriel finds himself press-ganged into a wild road trip down the Malaysian coast. Meanwhile, in a sleepy town by the sea, Lydia traces the links between her late grandaunt’s eccentric (lesbian) lover and her involvement in the Communist Emergency. As Lydia and Gabriel enter a shadowy mythology of serpents, Sufi saints and plainclothes gods, they must grapple with the theologies and histories they once trusted, in a country more perilously punk than they’d ever conceived of. I really wish the editors had considered the readers and broken the book into smaller chapters. It was hard going at times, with no easy place take a break
September 23, 2023
That speech at the end, about choosing beautiful lies over ugly lies, captured the hope many of us have in our activism, i would like to think; “may i always choose the lovely lie over the unlovely, until it becomes true”.
Joshua weaved the cultural, historical, social, and environmental into a story that just makes sense - is not trying too hard. it’s not a story for everyone, but i am definitely the target audience. the political commentary. the regionalism. the queerness + christianity. the capitalist critique. the malaysian vernacular.
Probably my favourite was the relationship written between Lydia and Mo Niang - on revolution and the communist insurgency, on queerness and the liminal space between belonging and not, on the way oral histories are preserved, and the appreciation for our ancestral and cultural histories.
The syncretism, the muhibbah of our different gods and religions, was a beautiful way to imagine multiculturalism in malaysia.
I’m really not one for fantasy books, and I don’t really love books on gods and mysticism and what not. But this book got me. There was a review on the back that called it “deliciously Malaysian”; it sounded gross when I first heard it, but after finishing the book, I wholeheartedly agree with it.
Joshua weaved the cultural, historical, social, and environmental into a story that just makes sense - is not trying too hard. it’s not a story for everyone, but i am definitely the target audience. the political commentary. the regionalism. the queerness + christianity. the capitalist critique. the malaysian vernacular.
Probably my favourite was the relationship written between Lydia and Mo Niang - on revolution and the communist insurgency, on queerness and the liminal space between belonging and not, on the way oral histories are preserved, and the appreciation for our ancestral and cultural histories.
The syncretism, the muhibbah of our different gods and religions, was a beautiful way to imagine multiculturalism in malaysia.
I’m really not one for fantasy books, and I don’t really love books on gods and mysticism and what not. But this book got me. There was a review on the back that called it “deliciously Malaysian”; it sounded gross when I first heard it, but after finishing the book, I wholeheartedly agree with it.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
October 22, 2021
Am I homophobic if I don't like this book? Lol jk I have no problem with the whole nabi khidir being gay thing but this book is a mess.
This book makes me sleepy. Everytime I read it after like ten pages I want to sleep so bad. It's the dialogues, the fancy words like you have good vocab bruh we get it.
I love the concept, the whole nusantara characters being present in current times and whatnot but it's just not well-planned. Like I have no idea what's going on and like many other reviews pointed out, what exactly is being saved??
Also how stupid is this: epigram-published book is epigram books fiction prize winner hahaha what masuk bakul angkat sendiri is this shit lmaooo
This book is pretentious and just not well thought out. Like editors at epigram korang tido ke apa. This has so much potential but apa benda entah jadi last2.
If you think being on a date with a philosophy bro is a bad idea then don't read this book because it is exactly that.
This book makes me sleepy. Everytime I read it after like ten pages I want to sleep so bad. It's the dialogues, the fancy words like you have good vocab bruh we get it.
I love the concept, the whole nusantara characters being present in current times and whatnot but it's just not well-planned. Like I have no idea what's going on and like many other reviews pointed out, what exactly is being saved??
Also how stupid is this: epigram-published book is epigram books fiction prize winner hahaha what masuk bakul angkat sendiri is this shit lmaooo
This book is pretentious and just not well thought out. Like editors at epigram korang tido ke apa. This has so much potential but apa benda entah jadi last2.
If you think being on a date with a philosophy bro is a bad idea then don't read this book because it is exactly that.
November 22, 2020
Using the approach of Percy Jackson series in crafting a YA-ish toned fantasy adventure featuring Malaysia-centric history, mythology and folklore, bringing awareness to the historical baggage (colonial history, Japanese occupation) and still-current sensitive issues (political repression, corruption, environmental urgency, LGBTQ), is highly laudable in concept, but the author's execution is problematic to say the least. Despite the fun and enjoyment in reading this book, I'm not sure whether the fusion of those components for a woke reimagining faith and religious figures served to push the author's agenda of inclusivity beyond a superficial level, while bringing about fruitful plot resolution and character development. Ironically perhaps a more conservative yet respectful approach could have been more impactful to readers.
November 28, 2023
Joshua continues to inspire my own journey in writing books that tell of a more unified, culturally diverse Malaysia who does not not have to hide her history in any form. I think, for me, while I definitely have a different style and (to some extent) vocabulary, I truly admire how this book tells Joshua's ancestry and story while also telling one of communists, culture and crazy gay people (in the best way possible!). Thank you, Joshua, for creating this book and having the courage to publish it. Thank you to all those who put their fate in Joshua as well. You have taught me a lot about the place I call home.
September 2, 2020
This book has so much potential if the author can only learn to focus! The parts with all the (non-sexual) actions were so good (the opening scenes, the trip to Janda Baik, the golden bridge) but the conversations were kind of... meh... He's trying to squeeze in so many things in one conversation that the point got lost. And then he had to end the book with the thing that annoys me the most - more speeches. In the end, I don't even know what the man in green was trying to save. In fact, I don't even know if he even saves anything. Felt like everybody else was doing the work.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
June 27, 2021
This was the first book I read after an excessively long hiatus from reading fiction, and I couldn't have chosen a better book to read. Woven around the myths and legends of the people who call Malaysia home, this book is an ode to the characters that are often forgotten about whenever one talks about Malaysian mythology. It's a celebration of the diversity of Malaysia, not only of its people, but their love and their beliefs too. In an age where it is supremely difficult to feel anything but despair in this country, this book filled me with hope.
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