Burma versus Myanmar, and what that means to a Burmese American family, a country, and the world (Boston, Massachusetts, Rangoon, Burma/Yangon, Myanmar; 2011 and 1998, 2001 backstory): “How is it possible for such beauty to exist alongside evil?” asks Etta, the thirty-seven-year-old, “quarter Burmese” narrator of Elizabeth Shick’s mesmerizing historical novel.
Burma/Myanmar is a Southeast Asian country so few of us know. You’ll be in awe of how much you learn.
The Golden Land is a remarkable reading experience – emotionally, culturally, historically. An ambitious undertaking few contemporary novels have tackled given how closed off the country has been to the outside world for decades. The best known novel set in Burma was written in the 1930s by George Orwell, Burmese Days; and, we learn, his two classic tyranny novels, Animal Farm and 1984, were part of a trilogy based on his Burmese background.
Burma/Myanmar is, then, historically and fictionally complex. The first question is the country’s name. Is it Burma, as known for a century, or Myanmar since 1989? The US (and UK) still officially call it Burma. By centering the fictional plot coinciding with a momentous modern historical date in the centuries-old country pinpoints a dramatic turning point for Etta’s family, underscoring the significance of the question and why the refusal to acknowledge the new name.
The book’s title reflects another name for the country – the “Golden Land” – confirming Etta’s befuddlement and emotional disequilibrium. A clashing of ancient lands steeped in a rich and diverse culture, sacred beliefs, monthly festivals following the Buddhist Zodiac calendar, shimmering golden temples – two Etta visits – with a long history of civil war, military dictatorship, ethnic violence, genocide.
The Golden Land takes us to all.
How then does one reconcile its vastly predominant religion, Buddhism, based on the original Buddha’s spiritual teachings and meditative practices of Siddhartha Gautama, cited, to attain peacefulness and non-violence? A country known for its exquisite artistic craftsmanship, such as its marionette puppets and lacquerware, also featured in the storytelling.
Rudyard Kipling in Letters to the East in the late 1800s told us Burma “is quite unlike any land you know about.” Shick infuses that sense of the mystical in the novel, presumably from having lived in Myanmar for six years, and from nearly thirty years of international development and humanitarian work. Wordcrafting also creates the mystique.
Compassion for the Burmese people is seen in Etta’s struggles and through other main characters:
Ahpwa: Etta’s maternal Burmese grandmother, a powerful force influencing and disturbing the family’s dynamics. She’s the one who’s kept the Burmese culture alive, after immigrating to Boston living with the family. Her sudden death triggers the plot.
Parker: Etta’s twenty-nine-year-old sister. Closer to Ahpwa, she rushes back to a country she hasn’t been to since she was seven believing her grandmother wanted her ashes spread somewhere over her homeland.
Shwe: Etta instantly bonded with her second, charismatic older cousin when the family traveled to Burma in that fateful year. The two inseparable until the family abruptly left without her telling him or understanding why. Shwe sets the intense tone, representing human rights activists and journalists who courageously want his people and the world to know what’s really going on.
Shwe and Etta witnessed a traumatic event referred to as “White Bridge,” also known as the 8888 Uprising. The freedom-fighting leader was Aung San Suu Kyi, who won the Nobel Peace Prize, spent years in and out of house arrest. How ironic that she said, “The only real prison is fear, and the only real freedom is freedom from fear” – the epigraph introducing the story – when she later supported atrocities against one of the country’s ethnic minorities, the Rohingya Muslims. A humanitarian refugee crisis still going on today.
By the time Shick states in her Author’s Note her mission – “to communicate to the outside world the fascinating, cautionary history of Myanmar and the remarkable resilience and ingenuity of the Myanmar people” – readers have taken to heart her passion “to support the people of Myanmar in their quest for justice.” Shick splits her time between Massachusetts and Bangladesh, a country with over a million Rohingya refugees living in UNHCR camps.
The story is told movingly by dividing a Boston-Burmese family’s fate into pre-and post-1988, pre Burma and post Myanmar. The first two parts alternate between Boston in 2011 and Yangon, Myanmar as well as Boston and 1988 Rangoon, Burma; the third part told only in 2011. This literary technique lets us see back-to-back the long-term effects of violence and how a family’s silence about it with their children and amongst themselves tore it apart.
One of those noticeably silent is Etta and Parker’s mother. The absence of her voice seems to emphasize the Burmese culture of obedience to and respect for elders, the good and the bad depicted. Etta is the one haunted by what she saw in 1988 but at thirteen when she visited Burma she only sensed something terrible had happened, while Parker was too young to even know anything did.
Given what Etta surmises happened, given how her parents and grandmother fell apart when they returned home from a planned year in Burma that ended up lasting only three months, Etta doesn’t believe Parker is right about their grandmother’s wishes.
Etta is the serious one, a lawyer; Parker the undisciplined, easygoing one without a job. How their characters and relationship changes is another novelistic strength as they delve into their grandmother’s life to figure out what she’d want them to do and where, when they discover a fascinating culture and an open-arms welcoming by their extended family. (Their parents died earlier we’re told.) Etta isn’t inclined to rush anywhere like her flighty sister, though she constantly worries about her.
She’s also worrying about Jason, the man she’s engaged to she’s kept in the dark about Burma, to the extent of her clarity, omitting her soulful relationship with Shwe. The two have not communicated for twenty-three years. An intense, youthful experience that seems to have cemented Etta’s alienation, thrust in-between two very different worlds and cultures. She may have pushed her feelings for Shwe deep down when she met a man who’s so good for her, but Parker’s trip to Myanmar has opened Pandora’s Box. Seen in the novel as her grandmother’s chest, inheriting the key to it.
The chest serves as a vehicle for unearthing more hidden mysteries, these about Ahpwa’s life in Burma and Boston. Some nostalgic and poignant, others unsettling. All revealing.
A heartfelt one, handled with grace and loveliness, sparked when Etta finds a tangled, broken mess of Burmese marionettes in the chest. It leads to meeting a character who touches us, and connects to Burma’s last royal dynasty when King Thibaw and Queen Supayalat reined. Their legend is a consuming childhood memory that may not have been truthful, distorted by a patriarchal society.
Somehow Shick seamlessly blends all these fictional storylines into an ancient and contemporary historical and cultural story. With the State Department issuing a Level 4 red flag alert that Myanmar it is too dangerous for Americans to visit, Shick lets us in.