The Ghost Bride

by Yangsze Choo

The oil lamp was lit and moths fluttered through the humid air in lazy swirls.

flanked by groves of coconut trees and backed inland by the dense jungle that covered Malaya like a rolling green ocean.

Love these sentence here. Really paint the picture right in your mind.

This practice of arranging the marriage of a dead person was uncommon, usually held in order to placate a spirit. A deceased concubine who had produced a son might be officially married to elevate her status to a wife. Or two lovers who died tragically might be united after death. That much I knew. But to marry the living to the dead was a rare and, indeed, dreadful occurrence.

I first heard this through movies from that came from China (and tales too). So this is the first book about Ghost Bride. The topic always has a Gothic tone to it, well at least to me.

“Are we so poor now?” I asked. Poverty had been looming over our household for years, like a wave that threatened to break.

Oooo love this visual right here!

Women had little security other than jewelry, so even the poorest among us sported gold chains, earrings, and rings as their insurance.

This is something that really speaks not just women in the past, or in any culture. But also nowadays too. But I think highlight the important of women and their dowries, which were very sadly said about of how much a woman is worth

The Chinese considered the moon to be yin, feminine and full of negative energy, as opposed to the sun that was yang and exemplified masculinity. I liked the moon, with its soft silver beams. It was at once elusive and filled with trickery, so that lost objects that had rolled into the crevices of a room were rarely found, and books read in its light seemed to contain all sorts of fanciful stories that were never there the next morning.

It many cultures it is very common for the moon to be tie to feminine and to a female deity. Very rarely will it be male that will tie to the moon, like the Japanese mythology for example

Confucius, who had said it was better not to know about ghosts and gods, but rather to focus on the world we lived in.

He was standing behind his desk holding a painted scroll. The bones protruded from his emaciated cheeks and it struck me that the ghost of Lim Tian Ching was eating our household alive. I wondered what pressures

I really do like the idea of a ghost haunting not just a house but also the household itself, including the people

Don’t you know that this part of the afterlife is ruled by the judges of hell? Before entering the courts for judgment and reincarnation, there’s a place called the Plains of the Dead,

relief, once it had been dedicated, I was able to savor the spicy noodles swimming in their curried broth. Puffs of fried tofu, bean sprouts, and plump cockles were buried beneath like treasure.

And now I am hungry XD

That Tian Bai would be clutching my comb on his person, just as I had obsessively carried his watch? Fan had said the glittering thread conveyed the strength of feelings,

while, I had a physical impact on the world around me. Instead of relief, however, this discovery filled me with dread. I didn’t want to belong to this world. I wanted to go back to Malacca, my living, breathing Malacca, with its humid air and torpid days.

Why did ghosts behave like this in the Plains of the Dead? They seemed to have forgotten every civility, the genteel codes of respect that bound our society.

I think this includes the Land of Living too.

The problem with the dead was that they all wanted someone to listen to them.

One of favorite quotes from this book.

Each ghost I had encountered had a story that it was only too ready to share. Maybe it got lonely in the afterlife. Or perhaps those who lingered longest were the ones who could not bear to give up.

Let's hope they never discover the internet XD

I turned over the scale in my hand. It had a soft radiance, like a pearl.

Er Lang listened with no comment, merely nodding his head from time to time so that the enormous hat bobbed like a boat upon the water.

Love the imaginary in this book.

He slipped through the gate like a drop of spilled ink and vanished.

I had often heard tales of loong during my childhood: great lords who controlled the rain and the seas. Sometimes they appeared as magnificent beasts, other times as kingly men or beautiful women. Occasionally, they took human wives or lovers; the emperor of China himself claimed descent from dragons and embroidered them on his robes. Five claws for royal garments, three for common folk. Recalling the tale of the scholar who visited the wonders of the Dragon King’s palace underneath the sea,

I could certainly understand now why Er Lang had felt entitled to patronize me. To see a dragon was considered lucky, but what if one were complicit in the death of one? The thought plunged me into greater depression.

“Take off your hat.” “Why?” “I want to see a dragon face-to-face.” “Are you afraid?” “It’s supposed to be lucky to see a dragon. I’d like some luck for my next life.”

Amah sighed and said we would never get my trousseau done in time. Other girls had spent most of their childhoods preparing a chest of elaborately embroidered materials, from napkins to bed curtains, but I had little to show in that department.

“You . . . you insane creature! How will we ever get out again?” Er Lang examined his shoes in dismay. “You should have told me there was mud down here.” “Is that all you can say?” But I was glad, so glad to see him that I hugged him tightly. Despite his concern about his shoes, he didn’t seem to mind as I pressed my grimy face against his shoulder. “Last time it was a cemetery, and now the bottom of a well,” he remarked. “What were you doing anyway?”