Originally serialised then published as a novel in 1938, Siburapha’s small-scale, domestic tragedy was far more moving than I’d initially anticipated. It unfolds through flashbacks seen from the perspective of successful, Thai professional Nopporn. He lives quietly in Bangkok with his wife but his study contains a mysterious watercolour, a modest, amateur picture out of keeping with the rest of his upmarket art collection. It depicts a scene from well-known, Japanese tourist spot Mount Mitake but for Nopporn it’s a coded reminder of first love. In his early twenties, like many Thai men from his background, Nopporn went to study in Japan, a move designed to improve future employment prospects. During Nopporn’s stay, he was asked to act as a guide for his father’s friend Chao Khun coming to Tokyo for an extended honeymoon with new bride, beautiful, charming, and much younger, Kirati. But then Chao Khun’s numerous business associates dominate his spare time, throwing Kirati and Nopporn together. Nopporn became increasingly obsessed with her but their chaste variation on an affair – adultery was considered an unforgiveable act - abruptly ended when Kirati returned to Bangkok with her husband. Their contact fades away but they’re destined to meet again years later and in vastly different circumstances.
Siburapha (Kulap Saipradit) produced his classic novel in a period of transition, he started out as a journalist and a writer of commercial romances. Later Siburapha’s increasingly radical, anti-authoritarian affiliations were expressed through overtly-political pieces, influenced by authors like Dostoevsky. Nopporn and Kirati’s story echoes aspects of a particularly prominent Thai subgenre, a brand of bittersweet romance revolving around social barriers that come between lovers. It was a deliberate choice of framework, Siburapha needed money, but he strayed from the standard formula, inserting elements of social and cultural commentary about gender and class in Thai society. Kirati’s a descendent of the Chao Nai, Thai aristocracy that’s now in rapid decline. Born in the early 1900s, she’s had a sheltered upbringing, tutored by an English governess, kept at home in relative isolation. Kirati was trained to see herself as an object, a thing of beauty whose sole purpose was to marry well. Her failure to attract the "right" partner led her to accept a proposal from Chao Khun, despite her lack of interest in him as a person. But Nopporn’s been educated to become wealthy, to marry someone suitable, and direct his energies at developing his career. As their story unfolds, Kirati and Nopporn’s different options and choices, the nature of their future relationship, constructs a subtle but damning critique of Thailand’s upper-class and its emerging middle-class - particularly when it comes to men and women’s respective roles. It’s much narrower in scope, and markedly different in style, but Siburapha’s lovers caught up in questions of duty versus desire sometimes reminded me of Edith Wharton’s central characters particularly in books like The Custom of the Country. Although Siburapha also mixes in traces of Buddhist philosophy with references to notions of fate versus free will. Uneven overall, not helped by the translation which felt quite clunky and pedestrian at various points but still a compelling, illuminating read.
Rating: 3/3.5