by Clara Tan
Like pretty much almost everyone writing this module, I was stressing over what event/poetry collection/novel I should base this blog post on. Thank goodness I happened to stumble upon my sister’s “toilet literature”, its latest addition being The Colin Cheong Collection. This volume comprises of three novellas and twenty three short stories, with the entire collection being published in 2011.
The reason why this post is titled “Throwback Thursdays” (apart from the fact that this post is uploaded on a Thursday…), is because reading this collection brought to mind many memories of my pre-university days. Most of Collin Cheong’s short stories in this collection revolve around the lives of youths and basically, the struggles faced by the typical Singaporean teenager. I won’t go so far as to say that I’ve crossed that age gap, because I find myself able to relate to the stories told, but one thing that lingers on in my mind(which I’ll be blogging about) is how long can one remain connected to that past before it slips away with time?
The thing about literature in Singapore is that it is just like all the other natural resources in our country – severely lacking/sparse in number. Yet, literature is among one of the most important mementos we have today that links us back to the past. This is especially with regards to Singapore, as we are a country whose identity is diluted by many different cultures and experiences. It is precisely through the search of a “uniquely Singaporean identity” *cue cheesy Singapore Tourism Board music* that we find ourselves having to look back into the past to see where our roots begin. My personal take on this is that the point in life when we start questioning the most is when we are going through our adolescent years. In those moments of ‘questioning’, it’s always comforting when you pick up a book or something and you read about someone who has gone through exactly whatever you are going through now and that you’re not the only strange one asking too many questions. This is what I believe is important for Singapore Literature to preserve today, that sense of belonging and comfort that only a person who has gone through the Singaporean context before can give to someone else in the future – that kind of continuity of a Singaporean identity that literature is able to provide.
In Collin Cheong’s short stories, he writes a lot about the experiences of youths and teenagers, and that hits back home for me. I suppose the most interesting years in the Singaporean life is when we struggle in our adolescence, looking for the “right” path to tread before we settle down into the boring work life of the future. Colin Cheong delves explicitly into this aspect of life, and wrestles with the many choices and emotional struggles that Singaporean youths living way back in the 1960 to 80s dealt with.
Here are some examples!
In “Poets, Priests and Prostitutes,” the story revolves around a motorbike gang back in the early years of Singapore’s independence. Okay, maybe Colin Cheong didn’t mention specifically the year he was writing about, but I did some research and found that motorbike gangs were rampant in 1969. Strange thing is, while a large part of the story is set in the past, with a completely different context, (e.g motorbike gang experiences which not many of us can relate with), the feelings and struggles he goes through are almost identical to that of any kid in NUS today. The amazing thing happening here is that despite the completely different context in time and place, the thoughts and feelings between past and present do not seem so different:
I am an English major, double-English, which is worse, and I spend most of my academic hours in AS 5, a solitary block on the edge of the Varsity tucked away behind the canteen. If the University was a digestive system (which in many ways it is), the Central Library would be the stomach, everyone else would be the intestines large and small, and the English Department would be the appendix. There is no real use for us and I suspect the world would get on fine without Literati and Linguists. We exist only to be a pain in people’s sides.
I’m sure most of us can relate to that paragraph above right? (haha)
In Seventeen, Cheong writes about tradition, superstition and the past. Different from “Poets, Priets and Prostitutes,” “Seventeen” does not make the reader feel understood, but it evokes a memory of the past as it questions those who live in the here and now. Have we forgotten our past, and our roots? Coming from a Chinese family, I can say that this is true, most of us have long forgotten ancestral beliefs or values that our grandparents once held on tightly to.
What kind of boy is he? She asks, and I tell her and Jac tells her. I tell her about his home, his beliefs, his altar and ancestral tablets and the conversations we have about God and ancestors and spirits and how he’s so afraid of making them ashamed of him.
He really believes? She asks and I nod. She looks at me and then says, I come from a family background like your friend’s, except that by the time my generation grew up, most of us no longer believed in it and we don’t perform the rituals anymore. But some things, like not staying out after dark during the Seventh Month and all that, some things we still believe. It’s very deep and hard to forget.
Yet, have the Singaporeans today forgotten? These were the questions that I asked myself when I finished reading this short story.
Ok, last example so the guys have something to relate to personally. In “Silent Service,” Colin Cheong writes about the National Service experience:
“No! You twit. All these guys ever talk about is the army!” Amanda said in mock despair. “As if they didn’t get enough of it every day already. They bring the whole bloody army and its jargon and abbreviations home with them. And worse, my parents encourage the twit and he goes on and on and on, as if we’re really interested!”
“But wait, easy for you to say. Once we’re there, we won’t be doing anything else except army things so what else will we have to talk about?” Ronald protested.
By capturing exactly the frustrations of people around the newly enlisted BMT guys, as well as showing the difficult position of the NS men, Cheong recreates the experience for those who have already moved on with life after serving the nation.
Similar to the 3 examples above, Cheong does the same with his other short stories, recreating a memory of the past and bringing it to life, in order to either question the reader or allow us to relieve experiences that we have forgotten. Cheong makes this real for the Singaporean, as he writes about experiences that are relatable, not something abstract and profound, but a truth that everyone will go through as we grow up in Singapore. Furthermore, his use of colloquial English, and Singlish give the narrative a sense of familiarity and makes it less alien to the local reader, almost like rediscovering that Bak Chor Mee stall from which your parents would “dapao” breakfast back home for you when you were still a kid. The taste and feeling of remembering what you didn’t realize you forgot, and finding it still pristine and the same is what I believe is beautiful about literature in Singapore, that it is able to preserve that sort of special identity, which can be accessed anytime through a text/poetry.