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336 pages, Paperback
Published November 1, 2021
“When we were children staring out at the meadow from the rooftop, we had dreams,” she tells him gently. “We thought we could go anywhere in the world, be anyone we wanted to be. But at some point, we have to stop pretending. We have to accept who we are.”
This is a book about the forgotten people in our history. The people that the world has took so much from, over and over again. The people that such a large part of our history was build upon. The people in between the lines of history books and newspapers. Those who were erased and unremembered.
What I loved so much about this book was its writing. The themes the author intended was so intricately woven within the the lines of the story that it was something that you could grasp with space for interpretations of your own. The essence of good storytelling 'show don't tell' was wonderfully represented in this one. The writing style of a good mix between poetic and clear cut made this a very easy read without it losing it's depth.
The characters in this was heartbreaking to read, yet from them you see what it means to be brave in different ways, and how even in the smallest ways, the refusal to be completely controlled and colonised is important. When survival is the only thing left to fight for, it is more crucial to put on a performance of obedience but the spark of rebellion is a small match of fire kept hidden way. Oseki, Gobind and Osbert represents different experiences of what it means to live in a world where power becomes the only thing that matters.
As always, south east asia literature tugs at my heartstrings in a way that books by white authors never could, pick this up if you are like me, a beginner in exploring books that represent what it means to be part of this though glorious at times but mostly a culture filled with too much unspoken trauma and buried memories that may yet just take generations upon generations to uncover.
“When we were children staring out at the meadow from the rooftop, we had dreams,” she tells him gently. “We thought we could go anywhere in the world, be anyone we wanted to be. But at some point, we have to stop pretending. We have to accept who we are.”
“Just promise me you won’t do it again. Don’t suddenly walk away,” you pleaded as you grabbed my hand as you have done a thousand times before.
Both of us were being forced to grow out of our childhood early and harden our hearts. The only difference was that nobody helped me.