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The Inlet
A young female Chinese national drowns in a private swimming pool in a wealthy enclave on a resort island just off the Singapore mainland. The house where she is found belongs to one of the wealthiest property developers in Singapore. The ripple effects on everyone affected by the incident – the investigating offi cer, the homeowner and his nephew, the girl’s family – are examined from their point of view. Based loosely on a true incident, The Inlet explores the social and cultural changes that have washed over Singapore society in recent years.
- GenresFiction
376 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2013
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Displaying 1 - 17 of 17 reviews
May 18, 2017
A caveat: in order to fully enjoy and appreciate this book, you have to ignore the synopsis. It's not a mystery or crime novel at all (in the conventional sense of the genre) but a rich exploration of the human psyche. While the prose may be simple at times, it is always authentic—another means of accessing characters' interiority.
December 20, 2014
Claire Tham’s The Inlet is a well-written suspenseful novel inspired by the 2010 drowning of a Chinese national moonlighting as a KTV hostess in the private pool of a Sentosa Cove bungalow. Tham’s narrative choice to write each chapter from the perspective of a different character allows for a well-rounded portrayal of (fictional) events surrounding the drowning. It’s also an easy method of ensuring a diversity of viewpoints is represented in a text that explores the changing demographics of present-day Singapore and its resultant tensions. Ling – the young woman at the centre of the tragedy – is fully fleshed out as a character even while other characters in the book lament the increasing presence of “PRCs” and other “foreigners” in the country. The narrative arc is compelling and made me want to keep reading despite knowing the grisly end to the ill-fated tale.
My biggest criticism of the text is its inherent class and race bias. Despite immigration being a central theme of the novel, nowhere is a discussion of the low-paid highly exploited migrant workers and the politics around their presence ever really even hinted at. Even when Li Ching adamantly refuses to assume her morning jog attacker was a dark-skinned migrant worker, there is a comic mocking undertone to the episode that fits in with the general portrayal of Li Ching as a distant liberal truth-seeking journalist cuckolded by a cheating police investigator husband.
And as blogger (and friend) Pooja Makhijani and QLRS reviewer Stephanie Ye have both already pointed out, the real life Myanmarese domestic worker who found the naked body in the pool has been completely written out of the story.
I think presenting Ling and Min Liang as narrative foils for each other is a stroke of brilliance on the author’s part – Ling as the youthful upwardly mobile forward-looking risk-taking migrant with dreams; and then Min Liang: the quintessential working class Singaporean guy who made it through the country’s much-touted meritocratic school system to rise to the crème of the crop, only to be betrayed by a crash (the GFC) in the financial markets that the national economy is so reliant on, leading to his tragic protagonist fall in social standing to the unenviable position of taxi driver, jilted lover and stalker. Ling and Min Liang’s stories are perfectly aligned to tumble towards each other on a collision course, which makes for an incredibly satisfying climax for the reader. And in a post Gone Girl era of sensationalist antifeminist literary writing, The Inlet is refreshingly nuanced in its portrayal of a dangerous intimate predatory relationship.
Tham documents Min Liang’s rise and fall so well, but there is a certain lack of authenticity to her descriptions of his childhood amongst the ranks of the Chinese-speaking HDB-dwelling working class. Having said that, there is a definite need to have a broader societal discussion of problem gambling in Singapore and how it affects individuals and families, and this text does contribute to that.
There is just one Malay character, and that too is he cast in the stereotypical trope of the unambitious somewhat simple-minded Malay policeman. The character of Fazil is introduced near the beginning of the book, and then completely drops off until close to the end, where he is given a chapter. It’s almost as if the author forgot all about him, got towards the end, thought “oh shit, not enough racial diversity ah” and threw in some references to Fazil cruising the highway in his motorbike and jamming with his bandmates on weekends (again, easy stereotypes). Even in the chapter he’s given, Fazil is mostly merely a narrative tool for the author to move the story forward as well as expound on Cheung Fai’s character from an outsider’s point of view. I feel Fazil is the weakest and least developed character in the book, even though there are other characters (such as the Indian expat who eventually buys the now-notorious piece of property in the Inlet) who make less of an appearance but more of an impact character development-wise.
In general, I feel The Inlet is an important and necessary contribution to the Singapore literary canon. Tham must be congratulated for daring to take current socio-political issues head-on in a thoughtful and nuanced way, something not a lot of local literary works have the courage to do. Worth a read despite its flaws.
My biggest criticism of the text is its inherent class and race bias. Despite immigration being a central theme of the novel, nowhere is a discussion of the low-paid highly exploited migrant workers and the politics around their presence ever really even hinted at. Even when Li Ching adamantly refuses to assume her morning jog attacker was a dark-skinned migrant worker, there is a comic mocking undertone to the episode that fits in with the general portrayal of Li Ching as a distant liberal truth-seeking journalist cuckolded by a cheating police investigator husband.
And as blogger (and friend) Pooja Makhijani and QLRS reviewer Stephanie Ye have both already pointed out, the real life Myanmarese domestic worker who found the naked body in the pool has been completely written out of the story.
I think presenting Ling and Min Liang as narrative foils for each other is a stroke of brilliance on the author’s part – Ling as the youthful upwardly mobile forward-looking risk-taking migrant with dreams; and then Min Liang: the quintessential working class Singaporean guy who made it through the country’s much-touted meritocratic school system to rise to the crème of the crop, only to be betrayed by a crash (the GFC) in the financial markets that the national economy is so reliant on, leading to his tragic protagonist fall in social standing to the unenviable position of taxi driver, jilted lover and stalker. Ling and Min Liang’s stories are perfectly aligned to tumble towards each other on a collision course, which makes for an incredibly satisfying climax for the reader. And in a post Gone Girl era of sensationalist antifeminist literary writing, The Inlet is refreshingly nuanced in its portrayal of a dangerous intimate predatory relationship.
Tham documents Min Liang’s rise and fall so well, but there is a certain lack of authenticity to her descriptions of his childhood amongst the ranks of the Chinese-speaking HDB-dwelling working class. Having said that, there is a definite need to have a broader societal discussion of problem gambling in Singapore and how it affects individuals and families, and this text does contribute to that.
There is just one Malay character, and that too is he cast in the stereotypical trope of the unambitious somewhat simple-minded Malay policeman. The character of Fazil is introduced near the beginning of the book, and then completely drops off until close to the end, where he is given a chapter. It’s almost as if the author forgot all about him, got towards the end, thought “oh shit, not enough racial diversity ah” and threw in some references to Fazil cruising the highway in his motorbike and jamming with his bandmates on weekends (again, easy stereotypes). Even in the chapter he’s given, Fazil is mostly merely a narrative tool for the author to move the story forward as well as expound on Cheung Fai’s character from an outsider’s point of view. I feel Fazil is the weakest and least developed character in the book, even though there are other characters (such as the Indian expat who eventually buys the now-notorious piece of property in the Inlet) who make less of an appearance but more of an impact character development-wise.
In general, I feel The Inlet is an important and necessary contribution to the Singapore literary canon. Tham must be congratulated for daring to take current socio-political issues head-on in a thoughtful and nuanced way, something not a lot of local literary works have the courage to do. Worth a read despite its flaws.
January 14, 2015
la Madrepatria e i sogni infranti
Ling è una ragazza cinese che va a lavorare a Singapore, ha una laurea ma in Cina le sue possibilità sono poche in ogni caso, però essendo molto bella trova una scorciatoia...
la storia è banale e anche l'intreccio non riserva sorprese, ma il motivo per cui questo libro vale la lettura è l'ambientazione e l'accurata psicologia dei personaggi, Claire Tham rende vivi e convincenti tutti i protagonisti di un noir vecchio stile ambientato in una delle metropoli più spietate e competitive del mondo,
Ling è l'archetipo della bella ragazza cinese che cerca una via di fuga alla miseria, mentre tutti i suoi interlocutori hanno in comune una vita frenetica e poco appagante che li induce a prestare poca attenzione a chi li circonda e alle possibilità che gli si presentano...il finale rarefatto e in parte paventato sin dall'inizio conferma in pieno l'impressione di avere tra le mani un buon romanzo, indipendentemente dal fatto che si tratti di un thriller, anzi quasi a dispetto di quest'etichetta di genere che forse un po'mortifica il buon lavoro di caratterizzazione operato...
Ling è una ragazza cinese che va a lavorare a Singapore, ha una laurea ma in Cina le sue possibilità sono poche in ogni caso, però essendo molto bella trova una scorciatoia...
la storia è banale e anche l'intreccio non riserva sorprese, ma il motivo per cui questo libro vale la lettura è l'ambientazione e l'accurata psicologia dei personaggi, Claire Tham rende vivi e convincenti tutti i protagonisti di un noir vecchio stile ambientato in una delle metropoli più spietate e competitive del mondo,
Ling è l'archetipo della bella ragazza cinese che cerca una via di fuga alla miseria, mentre tutti i suoi interlocutori hanno in comune una vita frenetica e poco appagante che li induce a prestare poca attenzione a chi li circonda e alle possibilità che gli si presentano...il finale rarefatto e in parte paventato sin dall'inizio conferma in pieno l'impressione di avere tra le mani un buon romanzo, indipendentemente dal fatto che si tratti di un thriller, anzi quasi a dispetto di quest'etichetta di genere che forse un po'mortifica il buon lavoro di caratterizzazione operato...
July 25, 2019
This thriller revolves around the death of a Chinese national, an enigmatic young lady who comes to Singapore to work as an escort. One evening, she ends up drowning in a swimming pool in The Inlet, an upscale neighbourhood on one of Singapore’s offshore islands. The story of her death is then explored through the perspectives of everyone it affects— the property mogul homeowner and his nephew, the investigating officer, the neighbours, the girl’s family. Though Tham’s dissection of the social and cultural changes that have gripped Singapore in the past decade are cutting and clear eyed (especially since we only properly started a conversation on wealth and inequality fairly recently 👀) what I found myself enjoying the most was the pace and momentum of the story as it unfolded. It is difficult to describe, but through the variety of voices presented I found myself piecing together both the mystery of Ling’s death and competing, dynamic visions of Singapore right alongside it, which was an Experience™️. Even though this story is powerful enough to stand on its own, if you, like me, were disappointed by the sideways (read: inaccurate and insulting) portrayal of wealth, class, race and socioeconomic development in Crazy Rich Asians, THIS BOOK IS FOR YOU. Rapid, critical, angsty and unnerving, I would recommend it to anyone interested in Singlit and the form it’s taken on as of late!
March 29, 2020
I expected a good 'ol murder mystery, but of course Claire Tham is full of surprises. I enjoyed her short stories, so when the novel first came out years ago, I had to pick it up.
The plot is centred around the death of Ling, and the supporting characters who are linked some way or another to her life. The narrative itself is a mix of linear events after the death of Ling and the subsequent investigation, and flashbacks to Ling's life. The characters are well-fleshed out, and they speak in some way of another about life in modern Singapore, in particular the more privileged class. There is class commentary as well, each character coming from a different walk of life.
There was also a brief break from the mystery of Ling's death itself to talk of the backstory of some of the key supporting characters. The evolution of human relationships was another theme was explored, but at some point it did feel a bit long. They were good character studies, though.
If anything, this book has only further cemented my admiration for Claire Tham, with her brilliant ability to bring words and characters on paper to life, and I look forward to her future work.
The plot is centred around the death of Ling, and the supporting characters who are linked some way or another to her life. The narrative itself is a mix of linear events after the death of Ling and the subsequent investigation, and flashbacks to Ling's life. The characters are well-fleshed out, and they speak in some way of another about life in modern Singapore, in particular the more privileged class. There is class commentary as well, each character coming from a different walk of life.
There was also a brief break from the mystery of Ling's death itself to talk of the backstory of some of the key supporting characters. The evolution of human relationships was another theme was explored, but at some point it did feel a bit long. They were good character studies, though.
If anything, this book has only further cemented my admiration for Claire Tham, with her brilliant ability to bring words and characters on paper to life, and I look forward to her future work.
December 20, 2024
Interessante romanzo travestito da giallo ma che in realtà pone l'accento sulla società asiatica, in particolare di Singapore, con il suo meltin pot di immigrati che vogliono posizionarsi a tutti i livelli della scala sociale, dagli operai agli imprenditori passando per il ceto medio e la classe dirigente pubblica.
Il cadavere di una ragazza ritrovato in una piscina è solo un pretesto per raccontare un mondo difficile e ambiguo. Come mai questa ragazza straniera aveva lasciato la sua casa e un lavoro dignitoso per fare la ragazza del karaoke a Singapore?
La narrazione passa tramite capitoli dedicati ai singoli personaggi di questa storia, la ragazza stessa, ma anche la proprietaria del karaoke in cui lavora, il poliziotto che indaga, la famiglia proprietaria della villa con la piscina, luogo del ritrovamento del cadavere.
Ogni capitolo è un modo per indagare sugli aspetti più oscuri della vita e della personalità dei personaggi, che inevitabilmente si intrecciano con quanto di più criticabile ci sia nella società di Singapore, fatta di ipocrisie politiche, affaristi senza scrupoli, e tanto altro.
Bellissimo libro
April 23, 2020
Much like the recent Singapore film "A Land Imagined", the noir setting of a controversial death, is merely a backdrop to an lengthy interliked introspection, which can be envisioned to be like that of popular local drama Kin. Each chapter focuses on the POV from a particular stakeholder, about what they have achieved, and what still haunts them. Yes, the prose may be a bit lacking in comparison to much more polished writers from overseas, and despite once in a while resorting to common stereotypes, the author more than makes up for thisby succeeding in the tricky tightrope balance of depicting relatable yet flawed characters. There are no villains in this novel, all the more rife with tragic melancholy.
October 7, 2013
A remarkable novel, a crime investigation set in contemporary Singapore. Takes the perspective of the several well-developed characters in the context of Singapore's immigration policy, growth and pressure on housing, property development and the banking crisis. Fine, wry, writing. I look forward to more writings from Claire Tham. The Inlet is likely to make my favourite novel from my Reading Journal for 2013! Here's a passage.....
Assistant Superintendent of Police Wong asks male Indian household head: 'Have you been in Singapore long?'
Ah, Sanjana thought, here it is. She'd been wondering when it would take ASP to get round to this. And, thought too, how apt the policeman's title was. He did remind her of an asp; he had something of the thin, wiry, unblinking alertness of a reptile, poised to strike at any time.
"We've been here ten years, Assistant Superintendent." Trust Ravin, with his punctiliousness, to the policeman's title right. "We just became citizens". And suddenly Sanjana hated the slightly anxious, slightly obsequious tone that always crept into her father's voice whenever he was asked this question, as though he were waiting at an imaginary immigration checkpoint. Papa, she wanted to tell him, there's nothing to be apologetic about, you've started a company here, you're employing people, you're one of them now. Them. Us. There were days she woke with profound pronoun dysfunction. She burst out, "Why do people always ask us that?" "Sanjana!" her father said.
Assistant Superintendent of Police Wong asks male Indian household head: 'Have you been in Singapore long?'
Ah, Sanjana thought, here it is. She'd been wondering when it would take ASP to get round to this. And, thought too, how apt the policeman's title was. He did remind her of an asp; he had something of the thin, wiry, unblinking alertness of a reptile, poised to strike at any time.
"We've been here ten years, Assistant Superintendent." Trust Ravin, with his punctiliousness, to the policeman's title right. "We just became citizens". And suddenly Sanjana hated the slightly anxious, slightly obsequious tone that always crept into her father's voice whenever he was asked this question, as though he were waiting at an imaginary immigration checkpoint. Papa, she wanted to tell him, there's nothing to be apologetic about, you've started a company here, you're employing people, you're one of them now. Them. Us. There were days she woke with profound pronoun dysfunction. She burst out, "Why do people always ask us that?" "Sanjana!" her father said.
May 15, 2016
I only read this to see what kind of crime thrillers Singaporeans write. Plus I've heard about the Sentosa Cove incident so the book's blurb appealed to me. The pace of the book is fine and the characters are fleshed out well. I like how Tham uses a lot of premonitions, makes it all rather haunting, in a way that reminds us how everything that happens is somehow connected to the divine. To quip one of her best lines, 'Nothing owns us... but we don't own ourselves either'. I see exactly this in Tham's characters as she weaves their past and the decisions they make, under circumstances that they could not help to draw the outcomes and fate.
I have a problem with the language. It reminds me of secondary school narrative writing and I cringed a few times probably also because as a Singaporean, having been through the education system, I am well aware of these so-called creative freedom that are really just writing requirements.
I also wonder about the censoring of school names and ministers. I guess it is not allowed. Strengthens the book's theme about repressive culture all the more. All in all, 'The Inlet' isn't those books that I hungrily thumb to the very end but it was tolerable. Could be that it played well because of its using real life accounts or just my #supportlocal tendencies. Either way, I will need more convincing if I were to read more of Tham's works the next time.
I have a problem with the language. It reminds me of secondary school narrative writing and I cringed a few times probably also because as a Singaporean, having been through the education system, I am well aware of these so-called creative freedom that are really just writing requirements.
I also wonder about the censoring of school names and ministers. I guess it is not allowed. Strengthens the book's theme about repressive culture all the more. All in all, 'The Inlet' isn't those books that I hungrily thumb to the very end but it was tolerable. Could be that it played well because of its using real life accounts or just my #supportlocal tendencies. Either way, I will need more convincing if I were to read more of Tham's works the next time.
March 8, 2015
Well written (as usual) with an intriguing cast of characters. I'm not sure that the social commentary was entirely successful; some interjections of the commentary relating to immigration and xenophobia into the dialogue and thoughts of the characters felt a bit clunky and heavy-handed. Nevertheless, what I love about this novel, and Claire Tham's writing in general, is Tham's mastery of characterisation and her preference for characters over plot. At the heart of the novel is an intriguing crime mystery, but she (rightly) doesn't let it take centre stage. Instead, she invests her effort into creating almost-vignettes of various characters who are all reflective of different parts of Singapore society. In this sense, and together with the rueful observations of Min Liang of the rapidly-changing nature of Singapore itself, Tham has successfully written an engrossing novel that aptly reflects Singapore society at the same time.
August 16, 2014
The Inlet is the best ever, Singapore writing that I've read so far. It's contemporary, weaving acute observations of current social issues in between elaborately-told stories of diverse, modern characters who are in equal parts explored with sincere depth. It's as though Tham lived in these people's shoes; it was such keenness in her fleshing out of thoughts that built the engaging, inflective narrative of this whodunnit thriller. I found myself pained reading these emotions penned in type, found myself agreeing with all these several characters and found myself enraptured by the evolving character archs. Tham is a meister of words, a true home-grown writer; she is of the top, if not, at the top of local literature. If anything, I was truly impressed with her writing - it was verbose, it was fluent and it was elucidating. And for Pete's sake, it's Singaporean fiction!
September 3, 2013
It was well written with a knowing nod towards the politics of Singapore and multiculturalism but sometimes the writing veers into pontification and the characters seem to use strange turn of phrases or speak with a voice which isn't within their social classes.
It can also get preachy about what/how Singaporeans should and should not do and can come across as trying out too hard to send out social messages to readers/non-citizens of Singaporeans by using the characters as mouthpieces (which can be a drag).
Given that the author is a partner in a law firm, perhaps her voice has not been totally detached from the various characters in the novel as she is too close to the material.
Nevertheless it reads more like a whodunit in parts and holds up well.
It can also get preachy about what/how Singaporeans should and should not do and can come across as trying out too hard to send out social messages to readers/non-citizens of Singaporeans by using the characters as mouthpieces (which can be a drag).
Given that the author is a partner in a law firm, perhaps her voice has not been totally detached from the various characters in the novel as she is too close to the material.
Nevertheless it reads more like a whodunit in parts and holds up well.
August 2, 2014
First Claire Tham novel that I've read. Language and literary techniques were beautiful, evident within your first five lines into the book but was slightly disappointed with plot structure. Felt like reveal of the killer could have been earlier and not staved off till the last few pages - just my two cents (not very) worth. xo
August 25, 2016
Well written but the plot was lost after the first four chapters. Rather, it became a collection of profiles of all manners of people living in Singapore. Disappointing given its initial promise for a good potboiler.
January 26, 2014
Reads less like a murder story but more like a series of character studies. It makes the character feels intimate and gives a story a greater sense of melancholy.
November 20, 2014
I'm just personally turned against mystery or crime novels, I think..don't know how I got that way.
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