Book Review - 'The Gift of Rain' by Tan Twan Eng

This is Tan Twan Eng’s debut novel, published in 2007.

‘Penang, 1939. Sixteen-year-old Philip Hutton is a loner. Half English, half Chinese and feeling neither, he discovers a sense of belonging in an unexpected friendship with Hayato Endo, a Japanese diplomat who trains him in the art and discipline of aikido.
But the enigmatic Endo is bound by disciplines of his own and when the Japanese invade Malaya, threatening to destroy Philip’s family and everything he loves, he realises that his trusted sensei has been harbouring a devastating secret. Philip must risk everything to save those closest to him and to discover who and what he really is.’

I was excited to read this book as it was written by a fellow Malaysian. In the first few chapters, there were familiar references, places I recognised, and the mention of the different local foods was enough to make my mouth water, triggering my sensory memories enough that I could almost taste them.

Most of the book is set in Penang, an island in the north, off the west coast of Malaysia, or Malaya as it was called before it gained its independence. I’ve never lived there, only visited and, strangely, I was pleasantly surprised how easily I remembered.

Some scenes are set in Kuala Lumpur – KL, as its fondly known – the capital, and also Ipoh, which isn’t far from Penang. Having grown up in KL, the places mentioned were very recognisable. And my oldest sister used to live in Ipoh, so that was familiar too.

Told in first person, from Philip’s point-of-view, the book is divided into two parts – the first part covers events leading up to the war, and the second starts with the news that Japan has invaded Malaya.

The story is told in flashback. When we first meet Philip Hutton, he’s already an old man, in his 70s, and still living in Penang. The catalyst for him revisiting his past is an unexpected visitor, Michiko Murakami. Similar in age, she’s travelled from Japan to find out what had happened to her friend, Hayato Endo, who’d been Philip’s ‘sensei’ (teacher). He’d left Japan before the war and had never returned. Her catalyst for making the journey was the unexpected arrival of a letter he’d sent to her in 1945, over fifty years before.
‘“It came out of the past like a ghost. Can you imagine its journey? He had written about his life here, and he had written about you.”’

As Philip tells his story, we find out about his life – that he’s the youngest of four and the only child from his father’s second marriage. His Chinese mother had died when he was young. He has two older brothers, Edward and William, and a sister, Isabel, who’s closest in age to him. The family company, Hutton and Sons, was founded by his great-grandfather, and there was no shortage of money.

It is while Philip’s father and siblings are away in England for the summer that Philip first meets Hayato Endo. He discovers his father has leased a small, private island within sight of their home to the man. A private, secretive individual, Endo decides to teach Philip aikido if he’s willing to commit fully to the training. Which he does.

As they get to know one another, it didn’t take me long to work out Endo’s underlying motives.

During the course of the story, Philip makes a new friend, Yeap Chee Kon, whom everyone calls Kon. He also gets to know his maternal grandfather, Khoo Wu An, whom he has never met until he is summoned to meet the elderly man; Khoo had disowned his daughter when she’d decided to marry a white man.

What I enjoyed most about this book was the familiarity and nostalgia I felt. Obviously, I wasn’t alive back in the late 1930s, but my parents had told me enough stories about life before the Japanese and what it was like living under their rule that I recognised a lot of it.

The other thing I liked was the eloquent writing. Tan Twan Eng knows how to gracefully string words together… until he doesn’t. But more on that later.
‘… the scent of wet grass wove through the air like threads entwining with the perfume of the flowers, creating an intricate tapestry of fragrance.’

‘I have lived, I have travelled the world, and now, like a worn out clock, my life is winding down, the hands slowing, stepping out of the flow of time.’

‘… she took the letter out… Its pages were folded, yellowed like old skin, the faint tattoo of the aged ink that had seeped onto the blank side visible to me.’

‘… we walked up to the house, now warm and lit up from within, glowing like a Chinese paper lantern, and suddenly appearing just as fragile.’

You have no idea how much I really, really wanted to like this book, even love this book. Alas, it was not meant to be.

There is so much telling, hardly any showing and I think that dragged the story down. And it is so slow… I don’t mind a slow plot build-up, but the pre-war part of the story, almost 300 pages, progresses at a crawl.

Each person we’re introduced to has a story to tell. Much as I love history and historical tales, it got to the point where I was rolling my eyes at yet another story-within-the-story; I just wanted to get on with the main story.

Having just said how much I enjoy his writing, I realised about halfway through the writing was starting to grate. The examples I quoted earlier are near the beginning of the book. Later on, its as if he didn’t know when to stop with the descriptions.

And the number of similes – good lord! I lost count of the many times things were compared to other things.
‘Hundreds of translucent crabs scuttled away at the vibration of our footsteps, parting before us like a curtain of glass-beads.’

‘The gravel path sounded like ice being crunched as we walked past the fountain…’

I got to the point where I was pleading for sand to just be grains of sand…
‘… the coarse sand was like grains of heated rice-husks beneath our bare feet.’

The characters. I didn’t feel any connection to any of them. Philip comes across as wooden with barely any emotional depth. For a sixteen-year-old, he shows no interest in his sexual awakening/identity. He doesn’t seem to be attracted to women or men.

Being a Malaysian who’s grown up in Malaysia, I understand the author’s reluctance to show anything too overtly homosexual, especially as he still lives there. It’s a Muslim country, its homophobic. Having said that, there are subtle hints at a possible attraction between Philip and Endo. But is the attraction romantic love or the love and respect between teacher and pupil? It is so subtle, I have no idea! And that annoys me. Far be it for me to say how anyone should write their story, but as a reader, I want it to be portrayed clearly, one way or the other.

When it came to Philip’s choices when the Japanese are in control, I felt no sympathy for him; in fact, I hardly felt anything at all. Sadly, I couldn’t care less for any of the characters, which is not what I wanted, especially in a story set in wartime.

At the end of the day, I think there are good ideas in this book, which would have worked better as separate stories. Having them all mashed together in one story made me lose sight of what the story was actually about.

I was expecting a book on patriotism, loyalty, betrayal, revenge. I was not expecting to be reading about mysticism, reincarnation and past lives even though I believe in those things. They didn’t blend well, and I found them jarring additions, nothing more than plot conveniences.

One last thing, I think it would have been good to have included a glossary at the end, giving the meaning of the many Malay and Japanese words used. Some were translated in the narrative, but too many were left unexplained. Being Malaysian, I understood them, and, thanks to anime, I understood most of the Japanese words/phrases used but not all. And that made for a frustrating reading experience.

The library has a copy of Mr Tan’s second novel, ‘The Garden of Evening Mists’, set in 1950s Malaya and dealing with the aftermath of the war. I’ll probably read it… one day.