MATCHBOX

What makes a short story live through the times of growth of novels and novellas to describe a fictional world?

A short story allows me to choose a single emotion / event and explore it as deeply as I possibly can. In Unchartered Waters, I chose a clandestine adoption and in Golden Illusion, elder abuse. For Visitation Rights, I wrote about something that many of us go through – the loss of a parent. I was touched when a reader sent me this message: It’s very nice when someone reads your book and says, ‘I went through this,’ but, how good is it when someone who doesn’t believe in supernatural things says, ‘I got goosebumps when I read Visitation Rights? That was me.’

How has the human psyche changed in the present time towards perceiving different elements of human life?

A good example will be my story Exchange Marriage which considers the issue of homosexuality. I’ve observed that, more often than not, there is a common belief that it is the mother who will support her child when he / she comes out of the closet. What I chose to explore in this story was something I’ve observed lately, which is that many fathers now show enormous compassion when their child navigates something about which he / she may be thoroughly confused and in need of support.

Diversity is the soul of a short story collection. Yet many have failed in stitching the diverse constituents into a single cloth of fiction. What’s the basic rule or idea that you follow to keep diversity in homeostasis?

When I studied the collections of other award-winning short story writers, I found a pattern to how they achieved this diversity and applied it to my work. Often, their collections were a reflection of what happened in their lives and they chose one aspect therein to focus on. Similarly, the stories in this collection were a reflection of things that happen around me, the rising awareness of mental health and something that in ubiquitous with Malaysia – the predominance of race over everything else.

To illustrate: The protagonists I created in this collection try to navigate living in this most diverse and multi-cultural society that is Malaysia. For example, in Tapestry of the Mind, one of the main characters is a Malay gentleman called Rosli Idris. He is also a traditional Indian classical dancer. In Nuns & Roses, the scenes I created resonated with many Convent girls throughout the world with whom I shared the story. All of us (some of whom were anything but Catholics) knew a Catholic nun who gave of herself to instil in us values that have carried us all through our lives.

Diaspora affects the human mind to live and express life in a way many others cannot perceive. What changed in your stories due to the change of cities and countries? And what’s the one thing that still bothers you while transcribing a work of fiction?

I wouldn’t say change but rather I’m more aware of the differences. The perfect example is Metopia. A Hindu mother loses her child because her husband converts to Islam and, without her consent or knowledge, converts their child as well. The mother has no recourse in law, be it Syariah or the legal system. Malaysia remains the only country I know where there two official and concurrent legal jurisdictions in play. My UK-based editor asked a simple question: Why doesn’t the mother convert the child back? She is, after all, the mother.

The possibility of a non-Muslim embracing Islam then reverting to being a non-Muslim never occurred to me. The awareness of such a possibility only happened when a foreigner highlighted it. The more I thought about it, the more I became aware of similar situations in other places and times. For instance, aren’t there many inter-faith Bollywood couples? Wasn’t there a time when Catholics weren’t allowed to marry non-Catholics in church? Didn’t a whole new religion – the Church of England – start because Henry VIII couldn’t divorce Catherine of Aragon and marry Anne Boleyn? Isn’t’ it the case that Parsis aren’t allowed to marry non-Parsis in their temples? The list goes on…

That awareness is what made the nature of my stories change, especially in Metopia. Instead of a whole courtroom drama (which anyone can read about in our national newspapers), I wanted to explore the concept, idea, desire and need for ‘choice’. What does it mean to actually have freedom of choice or the lack thereof? What happens to a mother when, through no fault of her own, she loses her child? What is the state of her mental health? I mean, when a neighbour wanted to harm my dachshund, Ladoo (who is featured in The Obituary), I almost went berserk. I can’t imagine how I’d cope if my child was taken away from me and the laws of the land allowed this to happen.   

It bothers me enormously when I cannot recognise the people and places when the stories are meant to be contemporary Malaysian stories. I’m not saying what is written should be a travelogue or that it has to be true to actual events. Unless you’re writing Fantasy or about another world, there must be something recognisable about the places you write about and this is what I try very much to achieve. For example, my story kumbavishaygam, is set in Foothills Estate. This rubber plantation no longer exists, but I did visit it once and after the story was published, I was mighty pleased when an uncle rang to tell me that he recognised it from my description of the place.

Writers write when necessities emerge before them. For you, what was that one need which made you express yourself through your characters?

The need to ensure that we get to see as many points of view of a single event. For example, when I was a girl, I wasn’t allowed to play with a doll because it belonged to my cousin. When I grew up, I was fascinated by what the elders thought was the reason for what I did to the doll when I finally got my hands on it. In Lolita, I used this experience to explore the many points of view of this one event and how sibling rivalry can sometimes have terrible consequences.

If you have to play the Devil’s Advocate, then we generally write fiction to keep us behind a veil and to avoid judgment. Now, when the journey of a book of fiction stays behind the screen, how do writers express honesty without being a direct image before the readers or observers?

This is something I learnt from listening to another author say that she’s not there to police what you read. Adopting this, as a writer I’m here to express, in the best possible way I can, how I see the world. You assume that it’s an image of me I create when I write. Actually, it’s as honest as I can possibly be in creating an image of you and your behaviour, bad or good. And, the easiest way to do this is via dialogue. For instance, in The Incredible Tragedy of the Indian Man, the protagonist goes to meet an ex-suitor who cast her aside to marry another. A mutual friend, during a conversation says this: “Why, ah, Indian men all so Queen-controlled when they have Chinki—in this case, Japanese—wife?”

The use of ‘Chinki’ was a trigger for many who worked on the collection. However, if I change it to ‘Chinese,’ I assure you, that entire sentence will not resonate. Every Malaysian Indian I know uses this word, if not in public, at least in private. It was a tough call, but I am grateful that my editors allowed it. Indeed, since the book’s been published, you have no idea how many readers have written to me to say, “This is exactly what happened to me.” Additionally, they also say my stories don’t make them feel alone and that there are others who have gone through this. Isn’t ‘being alone’ one of the uppermost mental health maladies of the 21^st century? 

Speaking of short stories, how has the world of short story writing changed with time, especially in its telling?

Stories are becoming shorter and shorter. In times gone by, a short story was at least 8,000 words – usually much longer. Nowadays, something in this region is often considered a novella. I will admit that I don’t particularly like flash fiction. A comfortable range for me is between 3,000 and 5,000.

If you had to pick three of your favourite short story writers, who would they be?

Laurie Colwin

Emma Donoghue

Jhumpa Lahiri