Celebrate the love for books
What I really enjoy about theatre is that it’s a liberating art form. It’s often used to explore ideas that aren’t mainstream. Mimi Fan is a prime example of this in Singapore literature. When it was first staged in 1962, it shocked more than a few sensibilities because it was rather progressive and liberal for its time. The annex even features a newspaper article touting Mimi Fan as a controversial play.
Home means so many different things to different people, and I’ll Be Home For Christmas definitely captured that through the various short stories. Although, anthologies usually leave me with mixed feelings. I’ll Be Home For Christmas was no different. While I adored most short stories and the poem at the beginning, there were a few that I didn’t enjoy, and a couple of which that even left me confused.
In many ways, Wing Jone is the book that I’ve been searching for for half my life. (I’m in my mid-twenties, so that’s not an exaggeration.) See, I’m of biracial descent. Even though I’ve sought books with biracial protagonists all my life, I’ve come across very few. Combine that with sports, one of my many passions, and odds of finding such a book plummet to near zero. Then Wing Jones came along and that book made my heart sing.
Initially I meant to write a pure book review, assessing the merits of The Good Immigrant. Considering how much of my own existence is reflected in these essays, I felt compelled to go beyond that.
The Memory of Light is such an excellent book. It’s not excitingly adrenaline-pumping, although there are some intense moments. On the contrary, it’s an exceedingly introspective book dealing with the realities of mental illness. It portrays the complexities of mental health and the difficulties of diagnosing and treating those who are mentally ill.
