by JP Landolt

My sister-in-law recommended this book, and I’m glad she did! I could have read this book in one sitting if had I the time and stamina. It was one to be devoured. My SIL shared with me how she loved the descriptions and how she wished she had a little more background knowledge for some of the scenery or architecture described. I think that’s a fair desire, especially since when most people think about historical fiction during WWII, they tend to think about the European theater, not the Pacific. Then, when people do consider the war in the Pacific, it’s still in reference to American involvement with Pearl Harbor and the atomic bomb. Truly, your background knowledge depends on which side of the world you grew up and the history you were taught.  

I felt at home, in a way, because this book brought Guam back to me with its descriptions of the climate, flora and fauna, and customs. Malaysia is not all that different from the island, except that Malay is the main language and it is slightly hotter year-round. My father was eight years old when he had to flee his town in the Philippines and hide in the mountains. He told me how he hid in the back of a truck under packed bags and a blanket, eating peanut brittle. He shared with me some of the more frightening tales involving a shootout and watching a beloved caregiver dying while he was pulled away. Then, how he became unlikely friends with a couple of Japanese soldiers when he was 11 or 12 years old, trading fish for candy and playing games to pass the time. All his stories came to mind while reading this book, so it felt real and true to me.   

This debut novel is set in Bintang, Kuala Lumpur during the British rule and Japanese occupation of Malaysia. We engage in a kind of transformative-grief-time-travel that colonization and war bring through the experiences of a mother and her children. The descriptions and feelings in this story, told through the perspectives of four of the characters, are great. The nosy and gossipy neighbors, the heat and humidity that make clothes cling to skin, the internal anger and disgust that comes from being oppressed, the temptation and seduction of something dangerous and thrilling, and the pain and anguish of not understanding what is happening to you but knowing it’s still wrong.

Chan crafts a remarkable account of the characters who make up the Alcantara family, who are Eurasian and in and out of place simultaneously. Each person is struggling with their place in the family, in their community, and in the world. Grappling with their identity and belonging, they navigate the racism of the British rule only to later struggle with the treachery of war and subsequent Japanese occupation. No one is safe, not even the most innocent and blissfully unaware, who in the end also succumb to the impact of war.  

I appreciated the care with which the author, Vanessa Chan, treats the complexity of the various kinds of relationships within this story. I believe that is because she’s woven parts of her own family history into this fiction, making it feel so true to life. Perhaps you will come to understand how occupation and colonization are the same thing, if only for the difference of time and who you decide are the villains. No person is a perfect hero or a perfect villain. Everyone is human and suffers from the human condition.  

TLDR: I cried. That’s the review. I cried and it was worth it! 

The Storm We Made by Vanessa Chan is available in print and e-book.

JP has worked for HCLS since 2006. She enjoys gallivanting, Jollibee, and all the halo-halo she can eat.