It is in Malang, East Java, Indonesia, in the 1950s, when Ah Lam is married off to Cheng Lei, the son of a wealthy merchant, to help improve her family’s situation as she is of age. Once settled in Surabaya, Ah Lam soon finds herself dealing with an abusive husband while raising her young children and running her own small restaurant to make ends meet during the extreme political and economic hardship of the 1965-66.
Meanwhile, Ming Zhu, Ah Lam’s daughter, befriends a wealthy Muslim Javanese entrepreneur family and falls for Arya, an aspiring scholar, whom she later marries despite her parents’ disagreement for their different cultural and religious backgrounds under the authoritarian New Order regime in the 1970s. Ming Zhu and Arya have fraternal twins, Fajar and Dido, and get divorced as the conservative Islamic culture grows.
Dido, as the female twin and a Peranakan woman, faces gender and cultural challenges as she is torn between her hybrid ethnicity and cultural roots while growing up in the disorienting Reformasi era and the May 1998 riots. She becomes a documentary filmmaker as her way to make sense of the current political upheaval and her own conflicted identity.
As the country is unravelling even further, how will these three generations of women find what they need when intergenerational trauma and family memories haunt their lives and ties to others?
I remember Tasia (Alberta Natasia Adji) sometimes telling me about her experiences as a Chinese-Indonesian on campus during our TOEFL tutoring sessions. She shared how people at school often sneered or gave her certain looks whenever she excelled in class. We also often talked about our feelings toward the piano and bonded over our shared little traumas from piano lessons. "The Longing" feels like an expansion of Tasia’s stories that she never told me, or perhaps the unfinished ones. Or maybe even the stories my Chinese-Indonesian friends were too afraid to share.
Watching Chinese-Indonesian experiences in movies often told through the male gaze, this book feels more poignant to me because it’s written from a female point of view. Even Ming-Zhu’s snarky remark, “Gosh, young Javanese girls with their unhealthy obsession with K-Pop these days. Just because we look similar to their Korean idols, now we Chindos are suddenly desirable. Oops, I mean tolerable. Wish that had happened sooner in history”, echoes something I see today: the way so-called "photographers" fascinated with Japanese culture often use women with Chinese facial features as models to make their photos look like they were taken in Japan.
It’s a beautiful story. Although the story’s pacing and timeline feel scattered and filled with many names (I initially expected a more linear structure like Min Jin Lee’s "Pachinko" or Madeleine Thien’s "Do Not Say We Have Nothing"), once I got used to it, I felt that Tasia was intentionally deconstructing the orderly fashion of storytelling, mirroring the fragmented memories and intergenerational trauma of Chinese-Indonesian lives.
Congratulations on your international debut, Tasia!
“Don’t get me wrong - I am proud of how well I play Paganini’s Rhapsody on a Theme or Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto No.1 in B Flat Minor. How quickly I memorize whole notations, and how well I performed in the Associated Board of the Royal Schools of Music exams. But that secure world is a bubble wrap. Outside of it is a harsh world, where heritage and choice of faith govern people’s place, status, and how far or high they can go.” Dido, hal. 27
The Longing mengisahkan tiga perempuan peranakan; Ah Lam, generasi kedua imigran asal Tiongkok yang menetap di Surabaya dan Malang, dan mengalami secara langsung tekanan pemerintah pada warga keturunan Tiongkok di tahun 1960-an. Ming Zhu, anak perempuan ketiga Ah Lam, adalah seorang gadis yang penurut dan memiliki rasa ingin tahu yang tinggi, namun tidak diterima oleh lingkungan keluarga dan pertemanan suaminya yang merupakan akademisi, keturunan Jawa, dan beragama Islam.
Dido Sinduadi, adalah anak dari Ming Zhu yang mewarisi wajah ibunya. Selain merasa terasing dari keluarga besar ayahnya, ia juga dianggap sebagai anak emas yang tidak perlu bekerja keras di lingkungan pekerjaannya sebagai jurnalis independen hanya karena etnis-nya. Belum lagi tekanan dari ibunya agar ia segera menikah dengan lelaki yang sudah dipilihkan untuknya.
The Longing terasa datar, dingin, dan apa adanya. Aku merasa sedih dan marah melihat Ah Lam yang diperlakukan dengan sangat tidak adil (baik oleh negara maupun oleh laki-laki dalam keluarganya), tapi juga kagum pada ketangguhannya untuk berdiri di atas kakinya sendiri. Begitu pula dengan Ming Zhu yang teguh pada keputusannya, meskipun di masa depan, kurasa hal-hal tidak mengenakkan yang dialaminya (baik dari keluarga dan teman suaminya maupun kerusuhan di tahun 1998) membuatnya ingin Dido memilih jalan hidup yang biasa-biasa saja (menikah dengan pria Peranakan yang sudah dipilihkan untuknya dan tidak menjadi jurnalis).
“…I was glad that your mother eventually dared to go ahead with her choice. She was braver than I had been. it was so different back then…” Ah Lam, hal. 66
“…But I worry about you doing it long term, because it’s not safe. You know, with our country’s notorious turbulent government, nothing is certain these days…” Ming Zhu, hal. 114
Kisah ini ditulis dengan dua sudut pandang yang digunakan bergantian. Di awal, kita akan disuguhkan sudut pandang orang ketiga yang menceritakan kisah Ah Lam, lalu di bab berikutnya, Dido menceritakan kisahnya dengan sudut pandang orang pertama. Menurutku, pergantian waktu dan sudut pandang di tiap bab ini cukup menarik. Dalam cerita Dido, pembaca dapat mengetahui bahwa Ah Lam berhasil melewati masa-masa sulitnya, dan dalam cerita Ah Lam, pembaca dapat melihat Ming Zhu tumbuh dewasa hingga ia menjadi Ming Zhu yang diceritakan dalam cerita Dido. Cerita dengan alur waktu yang maju mundur dan selipan kilas balik kadang bisa terasa membingungkan, tapi, tidak perlu khawatir karena menurutku hal ini justru dilakukan dengan sangat baik oleh penulisnya dan menjadi salah satu hal yang berkesan untukku.
Buku ini aku rekomendasikan untuk yang menyukai cerita fiksi sejarah yang dibalut dengan cerita tentang struggle perempuan peranakan di Indonesia, hubungan yang rumit dalam keluarga, dan trauma antargenerasi.
Here’s one that pulled me in like gravity. A novel about three Chinese Indonesian women across three generations.
The story revolves around Ah Lam, the center that holds everything together. A devoted daughter, hardworking wife, supportive mother, and loving grandmother. Around her orbit Ming Zhu, her smart yet rebellious daughter, and Dido, the activist granddaughter.
Their lives as middle class Chinese Indonesians begin in the 1950s, moving through the 1965 crisis and the 1998 riots, when countless Chinese families silently became victims of defamation, abuse, and violence.
The regime worked hard to divide society into Pribumi and Tionghoa. Starting from Dutch colonial times and growing harsher under Soeharto’s New Order. They were forced to erase their identities in the most literal way. Suspicion grew everywhere: neighbors doubting neighbors, communities torn apart, and communism weaponized as the ultimate curse to accuse and divide.
The book is an easy read, yet deeply moving. It made me laugh and cry in equal measure.
And here’s the irony: although written by an Indonesian author, I only found it in a bookstore in Kuala Lumpur.
A different lens on history, one that brings us closer to voices too often left unheard.
This book is an intriguing look into Chinese Indonesia life of the last three generations. Alberta is a thoughtful writer, who delves deep into this politically sensitive area. I feel her humanity is strong in wanting us to live beyond religious and historical identities. While reading the book, I felt that all the characters were relatable and so this creates a universal grounding, mixed with detailed cultural peculiarities - making it highly informative. I hope this writer continues to develop more intelligent writing into the future.