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The South: A Novel
Not yet published
Expected 26 May 26A radiant novel of longing that blooms between two boys over the course of one summer—about family, desire, and what we inherit—from celebrated author Tash Aw.
When his grandfather dies, a boy named Jay travels south with his family to the property he left them, a once flourishing farm that has fallen into disrepair. The trees are diseased, the fields parched from months of drought.
Still, Jay’s father, Jack, sends him out to work the land, or whatever land is left. Over the course of these hot, dense days, Jay finds himself drawn to Chuan, the local son of the farm’s manager, different from him in every way except for one.
Out in the fields, and on the streets into town, the charge between the boys intensifies. Inside the house, the other family members confront their own regrets, and begin to drift apart. Like the land around them, they are powerless to resist the global forces that threaten to render their lives obsolete.
At once sweeping and intimate, The South is a story of what happens when private and public lives collide. It is the first in a quartet of novels that form Tash Aw’s masterful portrait of a family navigating a period of great change—a reimagined epic for our times.
When his grandfather dies, a boy named Jay travels south with his family to the property he left them, a once flourishing farm that has fallen into disrepair. The trees are diseased, the fields parched from months of drought.
Still, Jay’s father, Jack, sends him out to work the land, or whatever land is left. Over the course of these hot, dense days, Jay finds himself drawn to Chuan, the local son of the farm’s manager, different from him in every way except for one.
Out in the fields, and on the streets into town, the charge between the boys intensifies. Inside the house, the other family members confront their own regrets, and begin to drift apart. Like the land around them, they are powerless to resist the global forces that threaten to render their lives obsolete.
At once sweeping and intimate, The South is a story of what happens when private and public lives collide. It is the first in a quartet of novels that form Tash Aw’s masterful portrait of a family navigating a period of great change—a reimagined epic for our times.
288 pages, Paperback
First published February 13, 2025
388 people are currently reading
16941 people want to read
About the author
Tash Aw
21 books518 followersBorn in Taiwan to Malaysian parents, Tash Aw grew up in Kuala Lumpur before moving to England in his teens. He studied law at the University of Cambridge and University of Warwick, then moved to London to write. After graduating he worked at a number of jobs, including as a lawyer for four years whilst writing his debut novel, which he completed during the creative writing course at the University of East Anglia. Based on royalties as well as prizes, Aw is the most successful Malaysian writer of recent years. Following the announcement of the Booker longlist, the Whitbread Award and his Commonwealth Writers' Prize, he became a celebrity in Malaysia and Singapore, and is now one of the most respected literary figures in Southeast Asia.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 660 reviews
August 1, 2025
Longlisted for the Booker Prize 2025
Great plot idea, lackluster execution: Aw's main character Jay looks back on the year 1997, when he spent a fateful holiday on the family farm in the South of his home country of Malaysia. His mother Sui Ching, the child of migrants, has inherited the farm near Johor Bahru from her father-in-law, an immigrant from Guangdong who knew about the psychological value of holding dominion over a plot of land. When she travels there with her math professor husband Jack and three children, she seeks freedom within her unhappy marriage (not-so-fun fact: Her husband Jack is her former teacher).
The search for personal freedom and self-actualization is a main topic in the text: The farm's manager Fong is Jack's illegitimate half-brother, his wife left for Singapore, he is poor and feels trapped in his own life; 17-year-old Jay's queer desire for Fong's 19-year-old son Chuan reflects his newfound space away from the bullies at home, while Chuan knows about the homophobia in the rural countryside (in an interview with The Guardian, the author has pointed out that Jay is a substitute for him). The characters are trapped by familial expectations, restricted by poverty (the Asian financial crisis plays a role), oppressed by societal prejudice, but their perspectives and attitudes strongly depend on their personal background, be it their geographical roots, financial status, gender, sexuality, societal position etc.
This could make for an intriguing narrative about the intersectional restrictions on the road to self-determination, and Aw aims big: This is the first installment in a planned quartet intended to form a family epic. The prose is sparse and throws no punches, and that's what I perceive as the problem: The characters remain detached and emotionally distant, the whole thing is overly controlled and neat. Fellow Booker nominee Seascraper proves that quieter narratives can produce immense emotional intensity, but "The South" fails to do just that, although that would be what elevates fiction from a magazine piece about social status, shame, and intergenerational family dynamics: A novel like that needs to be way more immersive.
I mourn that Hollinghurst's Our Evenings, which also deals with class, money, shame, and family was omitted, because that would have been a very worthy contender for the Booker.
Great plot idea, lackluster execution: Aw's main character Jay looks back on the year 1997, when he spent a fateful holiday on the family farm in the South of his home country of Malaysia. His mother Sui Ching, the child of migrants, has inherited the farm near Johor Bahru from her father-in-law, an immigrant from Guangdong who knew about the psychological value of holding dominion over a plot of land. When she travels there with her math professor husband Jack and three children, she seeks freedom within her unhappy marriage (not-so-fun fact: Her husband Jack is her former teacher).
The search for personal freedom and self-actualization is a main topic in the text: The farm's manager Fong is Jack's illegitimate half-brother, his wife left for Singapore, he is poor and feels trapped in his own life; 17-year-old Jay's queer desire for Fong's 19-year-old son Chuan reflects his newfound space away from the bullies at home, while Chuan knows about the homophobia in the rural countryside (in an interview with The Guardian, the author has pointed out that Jay is a substitute for him). The characters are trapped by familial expectations, restricted by poverty (the Asian financial crisis plays a role), oppressed by societal prejudice, but their perspectives and attitudes strongly depend on their personal background, be it their geographical roots, financial status, gender, sexuality, societal position etc.
This could make for an intriguing narrative about the intersectional restrictions on the road to self-determination, and Aw aims big: This is the first installment in a planned quartet intended to form a family epic. The prose is sparse and throws no punches, and that's what I perceive as the problem: The characters remain detached and emotionally distant, the whole thing is overly controlled and neat. Fellow Booker nominee Seascraper proves that quieter narratives can produce immense emotional intensity, but "The South" fails to do just that, although that would be what elevates fiction from a magazine piece about social status, shame, and intergenerational family dynamics: A novel like that needs to be way more immersive.
I mourn that Hollinghurst's Our Evenings, which also deals with class, money, shame, and family was omitted, because that would have been a very worthy contender for the Booker.
August 8, 2025
A possible Booker winner
A coming-of-age novel, a surprisingly tender love story that, at the start, reminded me of my first read of Call Me by Your Name. I think it isn’t easy to create a suave gay love story set in adolescence, especially in a place like Malaysia, where gay people face even more struggles from society. But Tash Aw writes about believable things. His attention to his characters made me want to spend more time with them - and I’m not even talking just about the two protagonists.
I’m really curious to meet again all the characters, and thankfully, this is only the start of a series. I want to see them grow up, make controversial decisions, love each other, and experience how the changing world affects them. Finishing this book reminded me of finishing My Brilliant Friend, and I can only say that I have big hopes for the next instalment.
A coming-of-age novel, a surprisingly tender love story that, at the start, reminded me of my first read of Call Me by Your Name. I think it isn’t easy to create a suave gay love story set in adolescence, especially in a place like Malaysia, where gay people face even more struggles from society. But Tash Aw writes about believable things. His attention to his characters made me want to spend more time with them - and I’m not even talking just about the two protagonists.
I’m really curious to meet again all the characters, and thankfully, this is only the start of a series. I want to see them grow up, make controversial decisions, love each other, and experience how the changing world affects them. Finishing this book reminded me of finishing My Brilliant Friend, and I can only say that I have big hopes for the next instalment.
August 21, 2025
What I take from this novel is an aching tenderness and pre-melancholy from the transience of youth and the relationships we form then, which not all are meant to be forever.
Everyone has a choice, it is just that exercising choice is not easy
The South as a novel partly feels unsatisfactory due to it being a set-up to a quartet. It still manages to be a rich portrait of Asia crisis Malaysia, a marriage falling apart and a teenage sexual awakening. Tash Aw’s language is cutting and I felt emotionally touched by Jay and Chuan their interactions.
There is a hierarchy of exclusion in high school based on how effeminate and straight passing you are, with boys who listen to Mariah Carey at the bottom of the pyramid and Jay being in danger from a lack of not just sport but also academical achievement. Or as his teachers note: Your son is totally ordinary. Moving to a rural patch of land that his mother inherited, leads to a sexual awakening, stemming from a closeness to land workers who are dripping with sweat and Chuan, a handsome son of an employee of Jay’s father who shows significant interest in the otherwise quite neglected Jay. Cigarettes and beers as an initiation ritual, while loneliness and safety being synonymous for our closeted main character are traded in for something mesmerising and uncertain. There is a permanent thread of impermanence in the narrative that made me think of the summer atmosphere of Call Me By Your Name.
Immediately starting off with two male adolescents discovering each other’s body and the violence that seems to simmer on the surface, we traverse a family history that includes resentment against a son (a teacher) not marrying up, with mothers being so powerful that they can force sons to miss the birth of their kids. There are characters who are illicit, song of a bargirl who are juxtapositioned with those born in marriage, half brothers of an earlier generation with status and money between them. The two older sisters of Jay are interesting, including one who wants to become an engineer, as is the mathematician in the family.
The backdrop of the novel is formed by the Asia 90s crisis and El Nino causing draughts. There are tensions between ethnically Malaysians and Chinese.
I understand why Michael Cunningham blurbed this, it gives me A Home at the End of the World vibes with the dive in the lake 2/3 in. There is parental tension and the threat of domestic violence, with a father who grows unmoored after being unseated from his privileged position and friends struggling with substance abuse.
My main commentary would be that there are too many threads going on to fully immerse myself in the narrative, and that I see glimmers in this book of what could have been an emotional hard hitter like André Aciman his famous book. Even though Jay and Chuan are firmly in the centre of the novel, I wanted more of them, or otherwise a longer book to fully let all characters blossom.
Still I enjoyed this book more than expected and I am rounding my 3.5 stars up.
Quotes:
What we just harvested already started to rot.
It seemed like everyone was waiting for something better.
Time is something to be endured, there is too much of it ahead of me.
People come, people go, like the rain. An hour after a downpour you don’t even see a puddle.
People don’t miss other people, they don’t know how to.
Just forget of home, no one cares about you there
He enjoyed the freedom that came with neglect
Friends are a mirror that allows us to see ourselves in relief, he realises. In their strengths we see our weaknesses, and vice versa.
I want to be clean, for you
The expensive privacy of this bedroom
Your father is a good person but doesn’t know how to behave as a good person.
Their smiles are weapons.
They were sick and had to die anyway
Everyone has a choice, it is just that exercising choice is not easy
The South as a novel partly feels unsatisfactory due to it being a set-up to a quartet. It still manages to be a rich portrait of Asia crisis Malaysia, a marriage falling apart and a teenage sexual awakening. Tash Aw’s language is cutting and I felt emotionally touched by Jay and Chuan their interactions.
There is a hierarchy of exclusion in high school based on how effeminate and straight passing you are, with boys who listen to Mariah Carey at the bottom of the pyramid and Jay being in danger from a lack of not just sport but also academical achievement. Or as his teachers note: Your son is totally ordinary. Moving to a rural patch of land that his mother inherited, leads to a sexual awakening, stemming from a closeness to land workers who are dripping with sweat and Chuan, a handsome son of an employee of Jay’s father who shows significant interest in the otherwise quite neglected Jay. Cigarettes and beers as an initiation ritual, while loneliness and safety being synonymous for our closeted main character are traded in for something mesmerising and uncertain. There is a permanent thread of impermanence in the narrative that made me think of the summer atmosphere of Call Me By Your Name.
Immediately starting off with two male adolescents discovering each other’s body and the violence that seems to simmer on the surface, we traverse a family history that includes resentment against a son (a teacher) not marrying up, with mothers being so powerful that they can force sons to miss the birth of their kids. There are characters who are illicit, song of a bargirl who are juxtapositioned with those born in marriage, half brothers of an earlier generation with status and money between them. The two older sisters of Jay are interesting, including one who wants to become an engineer, as is the mathematician in the family.
The backdrop of the novel is formed by the Asia 90s crisis and El Nino causing draughts. There are tensions between ethnically Malaysians and Chinese.
I understand why Michael Cunningham blurbed this, it gives me A Home at the End of the World vibes with the dive in the lake 2/3 in. There is parental tension and the threat of domestic violence, with a father who grows unmoored after being unseated from his privileged position and friends struggling with substance abuse.
My main commentary would be that there are too many threads going on to fully immerse myself in the narrative, and that I see glimmers in this book of what could have been an emotional hard hitter like André Aciman his famous book. Even though Jay and Chuan are firmly in the centre of the novel, I wanted more of them, or otherwise a longer book to fully let all characters blossom.
Still I enjoyed this book more than expected and I am rounding my 3.5 stars up.
Quotes:
What we just harvested already started to rot.
It seemed like everyone was waiting for something better.
Time is something to be endured, there is too much of it ahead of me.
People come, people go, like the rain. An hour after a downpour you don’t even see a puddle.
People don’t miss other people, they don’t know how to.
Just forget of home, no one cares about you there
He enjoyed the freedom that came with neglect
Friends are a mirror that allows us to see ourselves in relief, he realises. In their strengths we see our weaknesses, and vice versa.
I want to be clean, for you
The expensive privacy of this bedroom
Your father is a good person but doesn’t know how to behave as a good person.
Their smiles are weapons.
They were sick and had to die anyway
December 22, 2025
Real Rating: 4.25* of five
One of The Guardian's The best fiction of 2025 list!
Time's The 100 Must-Read Books of 2025 selection
The Publisher Says: A luminous and intimate novel about the weight of inheritance, the bonds of loyalty, and the awakening of love, set against the backdrop of a changing Malaysia.
The South unfolds during a visit by the Lim family to their rural clan estate after a long absence. Jay, in his mid-teens, and his two older sisters are less than thrilled to leave their city for the remote house in the south, but their parents, Sui Ching and Jack, are adamant.
Jay finds he's expected to share a room with Chuan, the son of the estate's overseer, a bit older than Jay but seemingly much more mature and capable in the world. The two soon form an intense bond, but with their very different backgrounds, and even more disparate expectations for the future, the course of their relationship is always an unspoken question.
Meanwhile, change presses in, including the destruction of the farm's beloved orchards, and the sale of the estate is mooted. The relationships between Chuan's father and Jack and Sui Ching go deep, but pressures both internal and external threaten to sever old bonds and upend an entire way of life. The South, at once sweeping and intimate, is a masterful portrait of a family navigating a period of great transformation.
I RECEIVED A DRC FROM THE PUBLISHER VIA NETGALLEY. THANK YOU.
My Review: Farms feed us. At the vast, unceasing exaction of labor, they feed us. Do they feed farmers? That is, do farmers get fulfillment and satisfaction from the labor they do? (Are there people being farmers in 2025?) And the cost of that labor, the relationships it bends to exigencies city-dwelling consumers don't worry their pretty heads about, how is it borne? Never equally...Nature seems to forbid anything like ease in farming, droughts, excesses of rain, it is literally always something on the socially elite Lim family's inherited land.
Author Tash Aw has done that thinking in this story. He observes and occasionally examines the workings of a family with a farm in Malaya (as it was at the beginning of the narrative) as they farm, live, love, doubt, together and apart. It's a book of calm, eerie stillness as the characters live lives they begin to question...is this necessary? am I necessary to it? am I doing good for the world?...and analyze how things are and aren't making them happy. Love is in the air between boys whose families have known each other most all their lives; loves slides out of mom Sui and dad Jack's grasp; love, true to its reputation, ruins everything with its exquisite torturous promises of pleasure, happiness, belonging that are so elusive to the Lim siblings. “We feel as though our entire world changes when we get older, every object, every person, has been rearranged into some strange new configuration, but in fact nothing at all has changed.” Nor will it ever. That realization stymies and disheartens many. I find it exhilarating in its challenge to redistribute attention, wisdom, knowledge within the unchanging reality of Life.
Maybe Jay Lim won't get Chuan, the boy he loves (In that moment, forever seems like a comforting notion. But at that age, what does either of them really know about time?), maybe Jack Lim will stop him as his culture demands despite his own complicated past, maybe Sui Lim won't be able to move past regrets for things undone. Maybe Malaysia's long tradition of relative harmony among its constituent groups is about to blow up into full-on Sinophobia. What will the Lims do then? We can't call it an orchard if it no longer bears fruits pretty much sums up the dilemmas in the whole book.
Family drama is evergreen because family is universal. Jay's older sisters are plumping for connection in the form of religious nuttery, the other in the embrace of rejection. (Parents believe this, so she rejects it; a stance adolescence damn near demands.) Jay's struggles with finding queerness in his world, knowing it's there and just out of his reach, is how I know the author understands me across generations and cultures: "This emptiness feels like hunger but Jay thinks that it is really a longing, though he doesn't know what he is longing for."
I was delighted to read this story of queer self-discovery against a backdrop of cultural and economic shifts that both enable and inhibit the journey. It is not a negative, but an observation, that hearing from so many points of view does not center queerness in the story quite the way I'd thought it would based on how it's marketed. It wasn't enough Jay to make the queer angle the only one in the telling, so I took three-quarters of a star back.
But how very beautiful and quietly profound and enfolding this read was! I recommend it to all including the "eww-ick" homophobes.
One of The Guardian's The best fiction of 2025 list!
Time's The 100 Must-Read Books of 2025 selection
The Publisher Says: A luminous and intimate novel about the weight of inheritance, the bonds of loyalty, and the awakening of love, set against the backdrop of a changing Malaysia.
The South unfolds during a visit by the Lim family to their rural clan estate after a long absence. Jay, in his mid-teens, and his two older sisters are less than thrilled to leave their city for the remote house in the south, but their parents, Sui Ching and Jack, are adamant.
Jay finds he's expected to share a room with Chuan, the son of the estate's overseer, a bit older than Jay but seemingly much more mature and capable in the world. The two soon form an intense bond, but with their very different backgrounds, and even more disparate expectations for the future, the course of their relationship is always an unspoken question.
Meanwhile, change presses in, including the destruction of the farm's beloved orchards, and the sale of the estate is mooted. The relationships between Chuan's father and Jack and Sui Ching go deep, but pressures both internal and external threaten to sever old bonds and upend an entire way of life. The South, at once sweeping and intimate, is a masterful portrait of a family navigating a period of great transformation.
I RECEIVED A DRC FROM THE PUBLISHER VIA NETGALLEY. THANK YOU.
My Review: Farms feed us. At the vast, unceasing exaction of labor, they feed us. Do they feed farmers? That is, do farmers get fulfillment and satisfaction from the labor they do? (Are there people being farmers in 2025?) And the cost of that labor, the relationships it bends to exigencies city-dwelling consumers don't worry their pretty heads about, how is it borne? Never equally...Nature seems to forbid anything like ease in farming, droughts, excesses of rain, it is literally always something on the socially elite Lim family's inherited land.
Author Tash Aw has done that thinking in this story. He observes and occasionally examines the workings of a family with a farm in Malaya (as it was at the beginning of the narrative) as they farm, live, love, doubt, together and apart. It's a book of calm, eerie stillness as the characters live lives they begin to question...is this necessary? am I necessary to it? am I doing good for the world?...and analyze how things are and aren't making them happy. Love is in the air between boys whose families have known each other most all their lives; loves slides out of mom Sui and dad Jack's grasp; love, true to its reputation, ruins everything with its exquisite torturous promises of pleasure, happiness, belonging that are so elusive to the Lim siblings. “We feel as though our entire world changes when we get older, every object, every person, has been rearranged into some strange new configuration, but in fact nothing at all has changed.” Nor will it ever. That realization stymies and disheartens many. I find it exhilarating in its challenge to redistribute attention, wisdom, knowledge within the unchanging reality of Life.
Maybe Jay Lim won't get Chuan, the boy he loves (In that moment, forever seems like a comforting notion. But at that age, what does either of them really know about time?), maybe Jack Lim will stop him as his culture demands despite his own complicated past, maybe Sui Lim won't be able to move past regrets for things undone. Maybe Malaysia's long tradition of relative harmony among its constituent groups is about to blow up into full-on Sinophobia. What will the Lims do then? We can't call it an orchard if it no longer bears fruits pretty much sums up the dilemmas in the whole book.
Family drama is evergreen because family is universal. Jay's older sisters are plumping for connection in the form of religious nuttery, the other in the embrace of rejection. (Parents believe this, so she rejects it; a stance adolescence damn near demands.) Jay's struggles with finding queerness in his world, knowing it's there and just out of his reach, is how I know the author understands me across generations and cultures: "This emptiness feels like hunger but Jay thinks that it is really a longing, though he doesn't know what he is longing for."
I was delighted to read this story of queer self-discovery against a backdrop of cultural and economic shifts that both enable and inhibit the journey. It is not a negative, but an observation, that hearing from so many points of view does not center queerness in the story quite the way I'd thought it would based on how it's marketed. It wasn't enough Jay to make the queer angle the only one in the telling, so I took three-quarters of a star back.
But how very beautiful and quietly profound and enfolding this read was! I recommend it to all including the "eww-ick" homophobes.
November 9, 2024
This is easily the best of what I've read coming out in 2025 so far.
This is the first novel I've read by Tash Aw, and as it is the first in a planned quartet, I somehow doubt it will be the last!
Set in Malaysia, in an undisclosed time, we follow Jay, our protagonist, and his two sisters and parents, as they head out to their recently deceased grandfather's farm for the summer. It's no secret that the farm is a failure, with droughts and floods being a common occurrence, the land has very little worth other than sentimental value. Looking after the farm, is Fong and his son Chuan, who Jay immediately takes a shine to.
What follows isn't just a touching gay coming-of-age story, but also a glimpse into the different generations of this family - how the grandfather came from China to Malaysia at a young age and bought a piece of land to have something to call his own, something to pass down to his children and their children, somewhere to lay his bones after he passes.
For a relatively slim novel, it tackles some big themes, highlighting the devastating effects on the climate thanks to the capitalist West, confronting the racism within Malaysia against the Chinese, opening your eyes to 'brand name causes' like the Amazon taking precedent over these smaller, invisible countries.
But more than anything, it gives a window into the different characters within this family and what each of them might be concealing. I loved the way Tash Aw plays around with perspective and time, revealing things on his own time, colouring everything you've just read. There are some beautiful descriptions and lines that I highlighted, of the landscape, the birds, the light, of first love, of that secret sense of self we all have.
I won't say more for fear of spoilers. But I'm so looking forward to seeing where Tash Aw will take us in the second book of this quartet.
This is the first novel I've read by Tash Aw, and as it is the first in a planned quartet, I somehow doubt it will be the last!
Set in Malaysia, in an undisclosed time, we follow Jay, our protagonist, and his two sisters and parents, as they head out to their recently deceased grandfather's farm for the summer. It's no secret that the farm is a failure, with droughts and floods being a common occurrence, the land has very little worth other than sentimental value. Looking after the farm, is Fong and his son Chuan, who Jay immediately takes a shine to.
What follows isn't just a touching gay coming-of-age story, but also a glimpse into the different generations of this family - how the grandfather came from China to Malaysia at a young age and bought a piece of land to have something to call his own, something to pass down to his children and their children, somewhere to lay his bones after he passes.
For a relatively slim novel, it tackles some big themes, highlighting the devastating effects on the climate thanks to the capitalist West, confronting the racism within Malaysia against the Chinese, opening your eyes to 'brand name causes' like the Amazon taking precedent over these smaller, invisible countries.
But more than anything, it gives a window into the different characters within this family and what each of them might be concealing. I loved the way Tash Aw plays around with perspective and time, revealing things on his own time, colouring everything you've just read. There are some beautiful descriptions and lines that I highlighted, of the landscape, the birds, the light, of first love, of that secret sense of self we all have.
I won't say more for fear of spoilers. But I'm so looking forward to seeing where Tash Aw will take us in the second book of this quartet.
October 16, 2025
★★⭒☆☆ (2.25/5) — My first true DNF of the year (for me a DNF is a novel I get past 30+ pages on & ultimately wind-up putting down). It’s not awful, just not for me & fell a little short in its style, quality and execution.
Tash Aw’s The South was always going to be something of a stretch for me — sitting just outside my usual reading canon — but even so, I’d hoped for a little more ballast beneath the lyricism. Aw’s reputation for restrained, poetic prose precedes him, and while that subtlety is intermittently present here, it often feels like a novel adrift: adroitly written yet curiously unmoving.
At around the 65% mark, I found myself setting it aside for good — not out of frustration, but out of fatigue. The characters remain curiously opaque, more sketch than soul, and the narrative momentum dissolves into a kind of aesthetic inertia. There’s atmosphere, certainly, and flashes of finely tuned observation about memory, exile, and longing — but they’re islands in a sea of stillness.
Compared to other contemporary literary fiction — the likes of Sebastian Barry, Jhumpa Lahiri, or Colm Tóibín — The South feels a little underpowered, like a long, languid sigh that never resolves into melody. The emotional resonance promised in the opening chapters never quite materialises, and the prose, while elegant, too often slips into the ornamental.
I suspect this will land better for readers with a deeper affection for meditative, slow-burn storytelling (which I’m often partial too myself, which is a sign this really h
Just wasn’t my vibe) — those who find nourishment in the quiet, not the crescendo. For me, it was a graceful miss: a novel that speaks softly, but not quite deeply enough to be heard.
Tash Aw’s The South was always going to be something of a stretch for me — sitting just outside my usual reading canon — but even so, I’d hoped for a little more ballast beneath the lyricism. Aw’s reputation for restrained, poetic prose precedes him, and while that subtlety is intermittently present here, it often feels like a novel adrift: adroitly written yet curiously unmoving.
At around the 65% mark, I found myself setting it aside for good — not out of frustration, but out of fatigue. The characters remain curiously opaque, more sketch than soul, and the narrative momentum dissolves into a kind of aesthetic inertia. There’s atmosphere, certainly, and flashes of finely tuned observation about memory, exile, and longing — but they’re islands in a sea of stillness.
Compared to other contemporary literary fiction — the likes of Sebastian Barry, Jhumpa Lahiri, or Colm Tóibín — The South feels a little underpowered, like a long, languid sigh that never resolves into melody. The emotional resonance promised in the opening chapters never quite materialises, and the prose, while elegant, too often slips into the ornamental.
I suspect this will land better for readers with a deeper affection for meditative, slow-burn storytelling (which I’m often partial too myself, which is a sign this really h
Just wasn’t my vibe) — those who find nourishment in the quiet, not the crescendo. For me, it was a graceful miss: a novel that speaks softly, but not quite deeply enough to be heard.
August 9, 2025
My hot take is that this is quiet and gentle and there’s some really meditative growing up, complicated family dynamics vibes here, but it just didn’t capture me like I wanted it to. I really felt there was a lot of setting up happening for the rest of this series of novels. The tension rose in the final quarter for me and I wished that had been more sustained.
September 6, 2025
While many have found this a bit workaday, it was a more elevated reading experience for me. The shifting POV functions well to keep otherwise mundane scenes interesting. It also allows for the introduction of a bit more tense anticipation than would otherwise have been the case.
It's clear that the author loves his native landscape and culture. That affection for Malaysia comes through nicely, creating an atmospheric foil for the development of the parallel romances at the heart of this story.
The South doesn't do anything highly inventive with form, subject matter, narrative framing, or related tools of creative writing. What it does do, with a more standard approach, it does very well. I look forward to the next volume of this planned tetralogy, and I wouldn't be bothered if it is advanced to this year's Booker Prize shortlist.
It's clear that the author loves his native landscape and culture. That affection for Malaysia comes through nicely, creating an atmospheric foil for the development of the parallel romances at the heart of this story.
The South doesn't do anything highly inventive with form, subject matter, narrative framing, or related tools of creative writing. What it does do, with a more standard approach, it does very well. I look forward to the next volume of this planned tetralogy, and I wouldn't be bothered if it is advanced to this year's Booker Prize shortlist.
August 13, 2025
#8 of the Booker longlist for me.
Had never read any Aw before, and although this is the first in a planned tetralogy, I have no great desire to spend any more time with any of these characters. Not that this book is actively bad - it just was kind of 'meh' - although the characters are suitably defined and differentiated, the prose is not particularly exciting, and I just felt very much removed from their concerns and not terribly interested in any of the events depicted; even the budding homophilic relationship between two young boys discovering their sexuality left me rather cold.
Once again I am perplexed that THIS should make the longlist when so many worthier tomes did not.
Had never read any Aw before, and although this is the first in a planned tetralogy, I have no great desire to spend any more time with any of these characters. Not that this book is actively bad - it just was kind of 'meh' - although the characters are suitably defined and differentiated, the prose is not particularly exciting, and I just felt very much removed from their concerns and not terribly interested in any of the events depicted; even the budding homophilic relationship between two young boys discovering their sexuality left me rather cold.
Once again I am perplexed that THIS should make the longlist when so many worthier tomes did not.
October 6, 2025
“The South”, by Tash Aw
3 stars ⭐️⭐️⭐️
Great concept, and I loved the writing and the storytelling. Such an innovative style of writing different perspectives, evoking emotions and memories, switching between first and third person…
There was such a tenderness in the telling.
The description of that urgency that teenagers have, the wanting to loose innocence, the hunger to learn, the rush to grow up, the uncontrollable lust, the longings, that search for personal freedom and happiness, the dealings with their parents and friends… quite formidable. I did relate to the character several times.
This could have been an epic event.
But everything was so uneventful.
What started so beautiful and interesting, became boring.
I read that this is book one of 4, an ambitious project that I do hope will get better.
Anyways, don’t mind my opinion, after all this book was longlitested for the 2025 Booker Prize.
3 stars ⭐️⭐️⭐️
Great concept, and I loved the writing and the storytelling. Such an innovative style of writing different perspectives, evoking emotions and memories, switching between first and third person…
There was such a tenderness in the telling.
The description of that urgency that teenagers have, the wanting to loose innocence, the hunger to learn, the rush to grow up, the uncontrollable lust, the longings, that search for personal freedom and happiness, the dealings with their parents and friends… quite formidable. I did relate to the character several times.
This could have been an epic event.
But everything was so uneventful.
What started so beautiful and interesting, became boring.
I read that this is book one of 4, an ambitious project that I do hope will get better.
Anyways, don’t mind my opinion, after all this book was longlitested for the 2025 Booker Prize.
August 15, 2025
Set in Malaysia during the 1997 Asian financial crisis, this book follows sixteen-year-old Jay and his family as they travel south to an inherited farm, which has seen better days. The central relationship involves Jay and nineteen-year-old Chuan, son of the long-time farm manager. The storyline is a combination of coming-of-age, search for identity, and family drama. It explores family obligation versus personal autonomy, and the tensions between tradition and change. It is the first book in what is intended to be a four-part series. As such, it does much stage-setting for future development. This is the type of book I usually decline to review, since I do not have much to say about it. It is well-written, and I remained interested enough to finish, but did not find it particularly memorable. I am on the fence about reading future installments. I am a bit surprised that it was longlisted for the 2025 Booker Prize.
August 5, 2025
Starting my Booker-25 journey with this novel set in Malaysia during the 1997 Asian financial crisis, although that description makes it sound more lively than it is. The South is book one in a planned quartet about the Lim family. Its nice to see a Malaysian author on the Booker longlist, although Tash Aw has been longlisted twice before with The Harmony Silk Factory and Five Star Billionaire . Central to the story is Jay Lim, who is spending time in the country on a dilapidated farm with his family. There is a queer coming-of-age aspect to this which is beautifully told and some hinted at family secrets to be explored in the later novels perhaps.
As others have said this book feels like scene setting for an intergenerational family saga and a little too quiet for my own taste.
Opening Line : Sui knows what the house will look like even before the bend in the road brings it into view
Classic Booker fare.
As others have said this book feels like scene setting for an intergenerational family saga and a little too quiet for my own taste.
Opening Line : Sui knows what the house will look like even before the bend in the road brings it into view
Classic Booker fare.
December 25, 2024
✰ 3 stars ✰
“Time is something to be endured; there is too much of it ahead of me. Why doesn’t time accelerate and propel you into a new age, when you can emerge a different person – stronger, calmer, more beautiful?”
The South is very much a story that depicts time and the changes it brings into our lives & our very being. It is time that is both ephemeral and transient, fleeting that makes the now so much more tangible than what we anticipate it to be. It is the time that we reflect on our past, our mistakes, our foibles, our sins, and our desires, that the Lim family weighs in on when they return to their long-forgotten farm in Malaysia - one which is a respite, as it is a hope to fortify the roots that are weakening from within.
“That was how memory worked; it was the opposite of recollection, never as strong as we thought it was, always relinquishing the instances that mattered most to us.”
Through alternating perspectives and a nonlinear narrative we get glimpses into various members - sixteen-year-old Jay as he ponders about his future at school and his relationship with his older childhood friend, Chuan, his mother, Sui, as she reflects on her marriage and the challenges and chances she took with her husband, Jack, wondering if there is anything she regrets, and Fong, Chuan's father, who has dedicated his life to keeping the farm afloat, and now realizing that with the passage of time, was it all for naught.
It is these little instances of possibility and reflection that depict some beautiful and oftentimes, some thought-provoking passages that almost glide through the narrative, as seamlessly as it alternates in the format of which the perspective is written. It is easy to get lost in their thoughts, their story, their contemplative emotions that captures so very subtly of how change in one's life is weighed in by the measure of time. It's -- moving, and yet, it's also a quiet book, in which, not much happens, but with the passage of time - people's thoughts and emotions are changing. And that is where the writing makes you feel those subtle wisps of change.
“As long as you don’t cut down the tamarind trees, she laughs.
They’re old and sick too, you know.
She shrugs. But they’re still alive and still beautiful.”
I liked how Tash Aw captured the quiet intimacy of their surroundings - the silence, the stillness, the calmness, and the protective nature of it, as well as the harsh bleak failing of it that makes one wish to turn away from it. It is a contrast to itself, that is also pointed back at certain members of the Lim family - how it is the question of whether their future exists here or back home. At times, the lack of quotations was difficult to get through, but I understood then, that maybe it meant when they were speaking in another language. There are also some rather long-winded phrases; but the descriptive and meaningful topics it portrays makes it so much more insightful and impactful that it is easy to overlook it - almost washing over you.
Fong and Sui's thoughts conveyed a sense of longing and regret of the moments that have passed and never to come again. Jay's story was more than just a coming-of-age story of accepting his sexuality, but one that gently nudges him in a direction that may be a stern difference from the expectations of his rigid, if not conventional scholarly father's expectations.'I was just about to turn seventeen, and at that age, what did I really know about time?' The question of uncertainty of his own future that lies in the balance of where he wishes to see himself.
“We feel as though our entire world changes when we get older, every object, every person, has been rearranged into some strange new configuration, but in fact nothing at all has changed.”
There is one very moving comparison the author illustrated between Jay and Chuan that was so poignantly delivered that it captured the wish for a forever - for a love to last... I just thought it was beautifully done. Jay and Chuan's dynamic is tenuous, but brimming with hopeful anticipation - a longing for a connection - an understanding - a chance. 'What if it’s a boy? Who comes here because he’s yearning for another boy?' There is that uncertainty of expectation, along with their own social standards that divides them, but to crave for a forever, when change is not in their grasp is a bittersweet, but tangible feeling...
And the way the story concludes, it is evident that the Lim family's trials and journey is far from over. There is a resolute fierceness kindled in the spirited souls of those who have spent their time here; one that is both daring and determined to transcend beyond what they've aspired for. It makes me curious to know what direction their journey in life will take each of them.
*Thank you to NetGalley for an ARC in exchange for an honest review.
“Time is something to be endured; there is too much of it ahead of me. Why doesn’t time accelerate and propel you into a new age, when you can emerge a different person – stronger, calmer, more beautiful?”
The South is very much a story that depicts time and the changes it brings into our lives & our very being. It is time that is both ephemeral and transient, fleeting that makes the now so much more tangible than what we anticipate it to be. It is the time that we reflect on our past, our mistakes, our foibles, our sins, and our desires, that the Lim family weighs in on when they return to their long-forgotten farm in Malaysia - one which is a respite, as it is a hope to fortify the roots that are weakening from within.
“That was how memory worked; it was the opposite of recollection, never as strong as we thought it was, always relinquishing the instances that mattered most to us.”
Through alternating perspectives and a nonlinear narrative we get glimpses into various members - sixteen-year-old Jay as he ponders about his future at school and his relationship with his older childhood friend, Chuan, his mother, Sui, as she reflects on her marriage and the challenges and chances she took with her husband, Jack, wondering if there is anything she regrets, and Fong, Chuan's father, who has dedicated his life to keeping the farm afloat, and now realizing that with the passage of time, was it all for naught.
It is these little instances of possibility and reflection that depict some beautiful and oftentimes, some thought-provoking passages that almost glide through the narrative, as seamlessly as it alternates in the format of which the perspective is written. It is easy to get lost in their thoughts, their story, their contemplative emotions that captures so very subtly of how change in one's life is weighed in by the measure of time. It's -- moving, and yet, it's also a quiet book, in which, not much happens, but with the passage of time - people's thoughts and emotions are changing. And that is where the writing makes you feel those subtle wisps of change.
“As long as you don’t cut down the tamarind trees, she laughs.
They’re old and sick too, you know.
She shrugs. But they’re still alive and still beautiful.”
I liked how Tash Aw captured the quiet intimacy of their surroundings - the silence, the stillness, the calmness, and the protective nature of it, as well as the harsh bleak failing of it that makes one wish to turn away from it. It is a contrast to itself, that is also pointed back at certain members of the Lim family - how it is the question of whether their future exists here or back home. At times, the lack of quotations was difficult to get through, but I understood then, that maybe it meant when they were speaking in another language. There are also some rather long-winded phrases; but the descriptive and meaningful topics it portrays makes it so much more insightful and impactful that it is easy to overlook it - almost washing over you.
Fong and Sui's thoughts conveyed a sense of longing and regret of the moments that have passed and never to come again. Jay's story was more than just a coming-of-age story of accepting his sexuality, but one that gently nudges him in a direction that may be a stern difference from the expectations of his rigid, if not conventional scholarly father's expectations.'I was just about to turn seventeen, and at that age, what did I really know about time?' The question of uncertainty of his own future that lies in the balance of where he wishes to see himself.
“We feel as though our entire world changes when we get older, every object, every person, has been rearranged into some strange new configuration, but in fact nothing at all has changed.”
There is one very moving comparison the author illustrated between Jay and Chuan that was so poignantly delivered that it captured the wish for a forever - for a love to last... I just thought it was beautifully done. Jay and Chuan's dynamic is tenuous, but brimming with hopeful anticipation - a longing for a connection - an understanding - a chance. 'What if it’s a boy? Who comes here because he’s yearning for another boy?' There is that uncertainty of expectation, along with their own social standards that divides them, but to crave for a forever, when change is not in their grasp is a bittersweet, but tangible feeling...
And the way the story concludes, it is evident that the Lim family's trials and journey is far from over. There is a resolute fierceness kindled in the spirited souls of those who have spent their time here; one that is both daring and determined to transcend beyond what they've aspired for. It makes me curious to know what direction their journey in life will take each of them.
*Thank you to NetGalley for an ARC in exchange for an honest review.
September 17, 2025
‘In that moment, forever seems like a comforting notion. But at that age, what does either of them really know about time?’
rtc later (I'm fully rooting for this/the author to bag the next Booker Prize)
August 26, 2025
I definitely enjoyed this book that at its core is about family dynamics. Interestingly, the mother of the family inherits a farm from her father-in-law. At first, everything seems to be lovely as the family visits the farm and Jay falls for the son of the caretaker. But soon it is clear that there are large rifts in this family and everyone is affected by them.
Apparently this novel is the first of a quartet, and I definitely will pick up the sequel when it's available. It's a quiet, very character drive book. Jay, the main protagonist, is definitely someone you can root for. I enjoyed how the author seamlessly gave us the perspective of different characters. All in all, very good, but I'm not seeing this one as being shortlisted for the Booker Prize. But I am curious to see where Aw takes these characters.
Apparently this novel is the first of a quartet, and I definitely will pick up the sequel when it's available. It's a quiet, very character drive book. Jay, the main protagonist, is definitely someone you can root for. I enjoyed how the author seamlessly gave us the perspective of different characters. All in all, very good, but I'm not seeing this one as being shortlisted for the Booker Prize. But I am curious to see where Aw takes these characters.
August 14, 2025
I honestly thought this was breathtaking. A quiet beauty. Enjoyed being with these people.
*Didn’t expect to feel this way because of everyone’s muted response since it hit the Booker longlist.*
Hope to review later.
*Didn’t expect to feel this way because of everyone’s muted response since it hit the Booker longlist.*
Hope to review later.
November 10, 2025
Book 6 of my Booker Prize longlist challenge, each year I dedicate my time to reading all the books on the booker longlist/shortlist so I can attempt to predict the winner. (Key word here is attempt) This has led me to read some incredible books, pushing me out of my comfort zone & expanding my taste.
I struggled to find the rhythm with The South, A queer love story set in Malaysia. Lyrical prose, but I felt like I was in a haze throughout, grasping at the thread of characters trying to find an affection for the story. Slow storytelling, just struggled to keep reading.
This could be an issue of the reader, I read this on and off through lunch breaks over the course of a week. Maybe I didn't really interact deep enough with the story, this is normally the kind of story I would absolutely love. Funny how the mindset and atmosphere the reader is in can completely impact the reading experience. That could be the issue here... nevertheless; I was disappointed.
I struggled to find the rhythm with The South, A queer love story set in Malaysia. Lyrical prose, but I felt like I was in a haze throughout, grasping at the thread of characters trying to find an affection for the story. Slow storytelling, just struggled to keep reading.
This could be an issue of the reader, I read this on and off through lunch breaks over the course of a week. Maybe I didn't really interact deep enough with the story, this is normally the kind of story I would absolutely love. Funny how the mindset and atmosphere the reader is in can completely impact the reading experience. That could be the issue here... nevertheless; I was disappointed.
August 15, 2025
.5 stars for writing
1 star for plot
1 star for characters
1 star for setting
1 star for liking it
This is the best novel on the longlist that Ive read yet. Im looking forward to the other 3 that are slated to follow this novel...the characters are compelling.
1 star for plot
1 star for characters
1 star for setting
1 star for liking it
This is the best novel on the longlist that Ive read yet. Im looking forward to the other 3 that are slated to follow this novel...the characters are compelling.
August 17, 2025
a quiet, atmospheric little novel set in rural malaysia in the 90s, following seventeen year old jay whose family retreats to their failing inherited farm for the summer. over the sweltering days, jay grows closer to chuan, the son of the farm’s manager. it’s a simple and tender coming of age tale, with a focus on the excitement and terror of awakening desire.
besides our protagonist jay, the characters are not as fleshed out as they could be, although this may be because this is the first in a planned quartet. through the perspectives of other family members, it’s clear tash aw plans to expand on their stories, but i would’ve liked a little more depth to them here.
the writing was the standout, slow and fluid to match the book’s clammy atmosphere, delving into themes of familial expectations, financial strain, environmental crisis, and the struggles of change. i’d like to see how aw expands on these themes and the characters in the next instalments, so i guess he has piqued my interest enough.
probably the best of the 2025 booker longlist from those i’ve read so far, however i’m not sure if it’s strong enough as a standalone.
i may have liked it a little more if i hadn’t already read seán hewitt's open, heaven this year, which is a similar story, and one i’m sure this will be compared to a lot.
rating: 3.75
besides our protagonist jay, the characters are not as fleshed out as they could be, although this may be because this is the first in a planned quartet. through the perspectives of other family members, it’s clear tash aw plans to expand on their stories, but i would’ve liked a little more depth to them here.
the writing was the standout, slow and fluid to match the book’s clammy atmosphere, delving into themes of familial expectations, financial strain, environmental crisis, and the struggles of change. i’d like to see how aw expands on these themes and the characters in the next instalments, so i guess he has piqued my interest enough.
probably the best of the 2025 booker longlist from those i’ve read so far, however i’m not sure if it’s strong enough as a standalone.
i may have liked it a little more if i hadn’t already read seán hewitt's open, heaven this year, which is a similar story, and one i’m sure this will be compared to a lot.
rating: 3.75
February 15, 2025
Fathers and sons: they believe, furiously, they are the opposite of each other, but they are in fact perfect reproductions of each other.
Hmm, there's a gentle, almost elegiac and melancholy tone to this male coming of age story set in Malaysia but I found it disappointingly similar to many other adolescence stories, even with a queer love story at its heart.
I think this writing style doesn't work for me: it feels almost distanced with indirect speech and lots of telling. I don't need a plotty book but I do want some kind of direct engagement with the characters and here they felt distanced, as if I were viewing them from behind a curtain.
Without anything distinctive in either the narrative style or the story itself this ended up being quite bland for me - sadly forgettable and with nothing much to get a hold of, this sort of dissipated even as I was reading.
Thanks to the publisher for an ARC via Netgalley
August 1, 2025
3.5 stars. I enjoyed this read mostly for its sense of place and time. I lived in Malaysia around the time this was set and I could visualise rural locations like this. I also remember the varied relationships that exist amongst between the main cultural and religious groups in Malaysia. I don’t remember mobile phones being around in 2000, well I certainly didn’t have one so I did wonder about that. The seasons in Malaysia are dramatic being close to the equator. It is not quite tropical throughout but I can still remember the intense rain and searing humidity.
I guess I’m not sure the characters will stay with me. They were interesting but not gripping. I don’t think I got enough sense of anyone, apart from Jay, to feel for them. I will probably read the sequel and see if I become more invested but i probably wouldn’t feel bereft if I miss it.
I guess I’m not sure the characters will stay with me. They were interesting but not gripping. I don’t think I got enough sense of anyone, apart from Jay, to feel for them. I will probably read the sequel and see if I become more invested but i probably wouldn’t feel bereft if I miss it.
November 3, 2025
Hay libros que entran con una premisa interesante, pero que, al final, te dejan con la sensación de haber leído solo la antesala de algo más grande. Eso me pasó con "The South" de Tash Aw. La historia se sitúa en pleno contexto de la crisis financiera asiática de 1996, un telón de fondo que marca el pulso emocional de los personajes: un mundo en desbalance, una región intentando entender su lugar en el mapa económico global, y familias que, de pronto, se ven obligadas a adaptarse o desaparecer. Todo eso suena muy prometedor, y en parte lo es. Pero también es un libro que se siente como el arranque de una saga, más introducción que desenlace, más promesa que realización.
La novela gira alrededor de Jay, un chico que viaja con su familia al sur del país después de la muerte de su abuelo. Van a heredar una propiedad que solía ser una granja próspera, y que ahora luce derrotada por la sequía, las enfermedades en los cultivos y la falta de futuro económico. Esa ruina agrícola funciona casi como metáfora de la época: un mundo en declive donde los viejos modelos ya no funcionan, y donde las familias tratan de agarrarse a lo conocido aunque lo conocido ya no responda.
Jay es un protagonista introspectivo, lleno de silencios y dudas, alguien que observa mucho más de lo que dice. Su padre, Jack, proyecta esa energía típica del hombre que no está preparado para un mundo que cambia más rápido que él. En ese contrapunto se mueve Jay, obligado a trabajar la tierra aunque sea evidente que ya no hay mucho que trabajar. La tensión generacional es clara: el padre quiere conservar y rescatar lo que queda; el hijo apenas está aprendiendo a entender qué significa pertenecer a un lugar que, en realidad, nunca ha sentido como suyo.
Y luego está Chuan, el hijo del administrador de la granja, tan diferente de Jay como cercano a él. La relación entre ambos se desarrolla con calma, con esa quietud incómoda que viene del descubrimiento mutuo y de la atracción que va creciendo de manera inevitable. Me gustó mucho cómo Tash Aw maneja ese vínculo: honesto, sin excesos, con la vulnerabilidad propia de una primera conexión profunda. Pero también, siendo sincero, es una historia que ya hemos leído muchas veces: el amor que florece en un entorno hostil, el contraste social, la intimidad construida casi en secreto. Bien lograda, sí, pero no sorprende demasiado.
Los personajes secundarios aportan estructura, especialmente la familia de Jay, que empieza a fracturarse conforme la presión económica y emocional los acorrala. Cada uno reacciona a su manera, reflejando caminos comunes en tiempos de crisis: resignación, frustración, nostalgia, negación. Sus arcos son interesantes, aunque en este primer tomo se quedan algo superficiales, como si estuvieran esperando su turno para desarrollarse en entregas futuras.
El tema central es el choque entre lo íntimo y lo histórico. Tash Aw muestra cómo lo público y lo privado se mezclan, cómo una crisis global puede filtrarse hasta lo más cotidiano: una mesa familiar, una conversación a media tarde, un pedazo de tierra seca que ya no promete nada. También hay un motivo constante de decadencia y transformación, simbolizado por la granja enferma, el calor sofocante, la tierra reseca. Todo respira cambio y pérdida; todo murmura que lo viejo está dando paso a lo nuevo, aunque nadie sepa qué significa lo nuevo todavía.
Sobre el estilo, la narración es sencilla, bastante lineal y muy accesible. Aw escribe con claridad, con un tono casi contemplativo, dejando que el tiempo avance con lentitud, como si quisiera que el lector habitara ese calor húmedo y esa rutina que parece dilatar los días. Pero esa misma calma, por momentos, hace que el libro se sienta lento, predecible, sin grandes tensiones narrativas. No es que esté mal escrito, pero a veces da la sensación de que la historia avanza en piloto automático porque todavía no ha llegado a lo verdaderamente importante.
Creo que este libro puede gustarle a quienes disfrutan de las novelas introspectivas, del desarrollo lento de relaciones y del retrato social desde la mirada íntima. Pero si buscas una trama potente, giros inesperados o un ritmo más dinámico, probablemente te quedes esperando un poco más. A mí me quedó claro que esto es apenas el comienzo: un prólogo, un ajuste de piezas en el tablero. Y está bien, pero yo preferí quedarme con la intriga de lo que podría venir y no tanto con lo que este primer libro ofrece en sí mismo.
La novela gira alrededor de Jay, un chico que viaja con su familia al sur del país después de la muerte de su abuelo. Van a heredar una propiedad que solía ser una granja próspera, y que ahora luce derrotada por la sequía, las enfermedades en los cultivos y la falta de futuro económico. Esa ruina agrícola funciona casi como metáfora de la época: un mundo en declive donde los viejos modelos ya no funcionan, y donde las familias tratan de agarrarse a lo conocido aunque lo conocido ya no responda.
Jay es un protagonista introspectivo, lleno de silencios y dudas, alguien que observa mucho más de lo que dice. Su padre, Jack, proyecta esa energía típica del hombre que no está preparado para un mundo que cambia más rápido que él. En ese contrapunto se mueve Jay, obligado a trabajar la tierra aunque sea evidente que ya no hay mucho que trabajar. La tensión generacional es clara: el padre quiere conservar y rescatar lo que queda; el hijo apenas está aprendiendo a entender qué significa pertenecer a un lugar que, en realidad, nunca ha sentido como suyo.
Y luego está Chuan, el hijo del administrador de la granja, tan diferente de Jay como cercano a él. La relación entre ambos se desarrolla con calma, con esa quietud incómoda que viene del descubrimiento mutuo y de la atracción que va creciendo de manera inevitable. Me gustó mucho cómo Tash Aw maneja ese vínculo: honesto, sin excesos, con la vulnerabilidad propia de una primera conexión profunda. Pero también, siendo sincero, es una historia que ya hemos leído muchas veces: el amor que florece en un entorno hostil, el contraste social, la intimidad construida casi en secreto. Bien lograda, sí, pero no sorprende demasiado.
Los personajes secundarios aportan estructura, especialmente la familia de Jay, que empieza a fracturarse conforme la presión económica y emocional los acorrala. Cada uno reacciona a su manera, reflejando caminos comunes en tiempos de crisis: resignación, frustración, nostalgia, negación. Sus arcos son interesantes, aunque en este primer tomo se quedan algo superficiales, como si estuvieran esperando su turno para desarrollarse en entregas futuras.
El tema central es el choque entre lo íntimo y lo histórico. Tash Aw muestra cómo lo público y lo privado se mezclan, cómo una crisis global puede filtrarse hasta lo más cotidiano: una mesa familiar, una conversación a media tarde, un pedazo de tierra seca que ya no promete nada. También hay un motivo constante de decadencia y transformación, simbolizado por la granja enferma, el calor sofocante, la tierra reseca. Todo respira cambio y pérdida; todo murmura que lo viejo está dando paso a lo nuevo, aunque nadie sepa qué significa lo nuevo todavía.
Sobre el estilo, la narración es sencilla, bastante lineal y muy accesible. Aw escribe con claridad, con un tono casi contemplativo, dejando que el tiempo avance con lentitud, como si quisiera que el lector habitara ese calor húmedo y esa rutina que parece dilatar los días. Pero esa misma calma, por momentos, hace que el libro se sienta lento, predecible, sin grandes tensiones narrativas. No es que esté mal escrito, pero a veces da la sensación de que la historia avanza en piloto automático porque todavía no ha llegado a lo verdaderamente importante.
Creo que este libro puede gustarle a quienes disfrutan de las novelas introspectivas, del desarrollo lento de relaciones y del retrato social desde la mirada íntima. Pero si buscas una trama potente, giros inesperados o un ritmo más dinámico, probablemente te quedes esperando un poco más. A mí me quedó claro que esto es apenas el comienzo: un prólogo, un ajuste de piezas en el tablero. Y está bien, pero yo preferí quedarme con la intriga de lo que podría venir y no tanto con lo que este primer libro ofrece en sí mismo.
November 10, 2025
This book has a slow burn and that mood or vibe lasts throughout the book. Having read Aw’s other titles, I found this one to be the most contemplative. The combination of the pacing and the intimate feel lends itself to a swoon factor. Jay’s interior life feels close. I saw through his eyes and felt his attraction to Chuan, a “half” cousin.
I appreciated the layers of story and the layers of meaning. Jay and Chuan parallel their respective fathers (half-brothers). Each chapter changes in perspective (and I’m trying to recall if the verb tenses changed as well); this gives a slight Roshomon effect. Jay’s father has experiences that are not revealed to the whole family. And in fact, all the characters have struggles that the others do not fully grasp. And that myopia contributes to the various dynamics having more tension.
Yes, a delicious slow burn to the end. Aw’s boldest work so far. I look forward to more.
Several quotes:
But he is unable to move; he finds that his body has become foreign. For so many years he has yearned for someone to touch him this way – for the freedom he will experience. He imagines the clarity of the joy he would feel, how he would savour every gesture. Maybe he is afraid of this liberation, and what it might lead to. It is the first time he has felt his body slipping away from his control….
At that time of day, I would soon learn, there was a sudden stilling of sound, a contrast to the cacophony at bedtime, when the jungle insects were at their loudest and it felt as though the entire forest might crash through the wall of the house. In the pre-dawn hull, there was a hush so heavy that even the soft squeak of my rubber sandals on the floor were an intrusion into the calm…
…Maybe he was like his father after all. Two men so used to solitude that they couldn’t get along with anyone else. Not even each other.
….I wanted to hold on to that moment but already felt myself parting with it.
Don’t be foolish, I told myself, you’re young, there’s plenty of time, there will be other men on other roads heading to other towns, and by then this moment – this evening on a dangerous road heading to a nondescript border city – will no longer be remarkable, you will barely remember it. That was how memory worked; it was the opposite of recollection, never as strong as we thought it was, always relinquishing the instances that mattered most to us. When I asked my mother how she met my father, what he’d been like when they’d first met, she said she couldn’t really remember, she had to force herself to recall the details when she told me about them, and I could tell that the struggle was genuine. She had wanted the past to remain where it was, it was safer that way, and I thought that maybe I would be the same. I would move on and constantly relegate my past to a distant place of safety. For so long I had wanted to escape my family and become an adult, with full control over the way I lived, but now I feared this instinct had become so strong that I would try to flee from every person I became close to, until the escape itself was the only thing that would satisfy me, and flight became my way of life.
…For years afterwards, every time he picks up the chemical muskiness of this kind of cologne on someone’s skin, or in the air in a locker room, he will feel the same frisson that he is experiencing now, that to him signifies possibility, the unfolding of an afternoon, an evening, a lifetime.
That’s the first time I’ve ever kissed anyone, Jay says. I don’t believe you, Chuan replies and kisses him, harder now. Jay pulls away – Who was the first person you did this with, he asks, but Chuan doesn’t answer, he kisses him again, crushing the question on Jay’s lips.
He notices that Chuan’s skin is now clammy and sticky to the touch, whereas just a few minutes ago it was fresh and smooth from the shower, and something about this evolution excites Jay, the idea that someone else’s body is capable of altering his own sense of smell and touch. He experiences the same sensation that he experienced under the trees: his body is no longer entirely his to control, and this loss of sovereignty is a kind of freedom.
Fathers and sons: they believe, furiously, that they are the opposite of each other, but they are in fact reproductions of each other.
I appreciated the layers of story and the layers of meaning. Jay and Chuan parallel their respective fathers (half-brothers). Each chapter changes in perspective (and I’m trying to recall if the verb tenses changed as well); this gives a slight Roshomon effect. Jay’s father has experiences that are not revealed to the whole family. And in fact, all the characters have struggles that the others do not fully grasp. And that myopia contributes to the various dynamics having more tension.
Yes, a delicious slow burn to the end. Aw’s boldest work so far. I look forward to more.
Several quotes:
But he is unable to move; he finds that his body has become foreign. For so many years he has yearned for someone to touch him this way – for the freedom he will experience. He imagines the clarity of the joy he would feel, how he would savour every gesture. Maybe he is afraid of this liberation, and what it might lead to. It is the first time he has felt his body slipping away from his control….
At that time of day, I would soon learn, there was a sudden stilling of sound, a contrast to the cacophony at bedtime, when the jungle insects were at their loudest and it felt as though the entire forest might crash through the wall of the house. In the pre-dawn hull, there was a hush so heavy that even the soft squeak of my rubber sandals on the floor were an intrusion into the calm…
…Maybe he was like his father after all. Two men so used to solitude that they couldn’t get along with anyone else. Not even each other.
….I wanted to hold on to that moment but already felt myself parting with it.
Don’t be foolish, I told myself, you’re young, there’s plenty of time, there will be other men on other roads heading to other towns, and by then this moment – this evening on a dangerous road heading to a nondescript border city – will no longer be remarkable, you will barely remember it. That was how memory worked; it was the opposite of recollection, never as strong as we thought it was, always relinquishing the instances that mattered most to us. When I asked my mother how she met my father, what he’d been like when they’d first met, she said she couldn’t really remember, she had to force herself to recall the details when she told me about them, and I could tell that the struggle was genuine. She had wanted the past to remain where it was, it was safer that way, and I thought that maybe I would be the same. I would move on and constantly relegate my past to a distant place of safety. For so long I had wanted to escape my family and become an adult, with full control over the way I lived, but now I feared this instinct had become so strong that I would try to flee from every person I became close to, until the escape itself was the only thing that would satisfy me, and flight became my way of life.
…For years afterwards, every time he picks up the chemical muskiness of this kind of cologne on someone’s skin, or in the air in a locker room, he will feel the same frisson that he is experiencing now, that to him signifies possibility, the unfolding of an afternoon, an evening, a lifetime.
That’s the first time I’ve ever kissed anyone, Jay says. I don’t believe you, Chuan replies and kisses him, harder now. Jay pulls away – Who was the first person you did this with, he asks, but Chuan doesn’t answer, he kisses him again, crushing the question on Jay’s lips.
He notices that Chuan’s skin is now clammy and sticky to the touch, whereas just a few minutes ago it was fresh and smooth from the shower, and something about this evolution excites Jay, the idea that someone else’s body is capable of altering his own sense of smell and touch. He experiences the same sensation that he experienced under the trees: his body is no longer entirely his to control, and this loss of sovereignty is a kind of freedom.
Fathers and sons: they believe, furiously, that they are the opposite of each other, but they are in fact reproductions of each other.
July 8, 2025
It is not often I read a new novel in the year it is first published but I am extremely glad I did with 'The South' by Tash Aw because not only is the novel first rate but I have discovered an author I must read more by. It seems redundant to say this is a brilliant novel, but it is. I have absolutely no intention of rehashing what the novel's story - you can find that in the publisher's blurb on GR or elsewhere - but I will be talking about what the novel is about.
First off it is about as far from a 'gay' or LGBT+ novel as it is possible to be. That doesn't mean there aren't 'gay' characters (but only in terms of their sexual desires) do we even believe in 'gay' characters outside ridiculous M&M romances? But the 'gay' boys just are - there relationship has no role in the story outside of itself - (I have no intention of dropping spoilers in my review. Either things need to be said or they don't and I want to keep details as opaque as possible so as not to reduce anyone's enjoyment of this novel). What the novel is about is family, its complexities between husbands and wives, parents and children, siblings and others, it is about heritage, were we belong, how heritage is a resource and a trap - really the novel is about so much and that is set amongst a Chinese family Malaya only adds to the richness and complexity.
All I can do is praise the novel again and again. It is as complex as the author's background - read a bit about him and try pigeon hole him - it is short but incredibly rich and resonant with a view on old themes from a new perspective. Not that we haven't had novels from what we in the UK would refer to as Commonwealth writers exploring the themes of their own countries and cultures but this novel moves way beyond those first generation novelists and their attempts to explain. Nothing is explained never mind excused or justified, it just is.
Wonderful, first rate novel from a talented writer.
First off it is about as far from a 'gay' or LGBT+ novel as it is possible to be. That doesn't mean there aren't 'gay' characters (but only in terms of their sexual desires) do we even believe in 'gay' characters outside ridiculous M&M romances? But the 'gay' boys just are - there relationship has no role in the story outside of itself - (I have no intention of dropping spoilers in my review. Either things need to be said or they don't and I want to keep details as opaque as possible so as not to reduce anyone's enjoyment of this novel). What the novel is about is family, its complexities between husbands and wives, parents and children, siblings and others, it is about heritage, were we belong, how heritage is a resource and a trap - really the novel is about so much and that is set amongst a Chinese family Malaya only adds to the richness and complexity.
All I can do is praise the novel again and again. It is as complex as the author's background - read a bit about him and try pigeon hole him - it is short but incredibly rich and resonant with a view on old themes from a new perspective. Not that we haven't had novels from what we in the UK would refer to as Commonwealth writers exploring the themes of their own countries and cultures but this novel moves way beyond those first generation novelists and their attempts to explain. Nothing is explained never mind excused or justified, it just is.
Wonderful, first rate novel from a talented writer.
March 24, 2025
3.5
Deze week in Humo:
Eind jaren 90 keert de familie Lim terug vanuit Kuala Lumur naar haar lang vergeten boerderij in het zuiden van Maleisië. ‘Het zuiden’ symboliseert ook hoe het traag evoluerende platteland zich wereldwijd minder en minder kan afschermen tegen de snelle modernisering. De zeven familieleden verhouden zich op verschillende wijze tot deze stedelijk-rurale kloof en tot een onontkoombare generatiekloof. Dankzij het meerstemmige vertelperspectief bespeuren we langzaamaan hoe de wisselwerking tussen spijt en verlangen, stilstand en zelfbeschikking, traditie en ambitie zich in elk familielid manifesteert. Het is de opbloeiende romance tussen twee jonge mannen die hierbij het meest tot de verbeelding spreekt.
Het Zuiden wordt aangekondigd als het eerste van vier delen en dat merk je aan de bedaarde kennismaking met de personages, de breed uitgezette verhaallijnen en de zeer vlakke spanningsboog. De vervollediging van de romancyclus zal uitwijzen of we Tash Aw gaan beschouwen als de Maleisische Coetzee of Proust.
Deze week in Humo:
Eind jaren 90 keert de familie Lim terug vanuit Kuala Lumur naar haar lang vergeten boerderij in het zuiden van Maleisië. ‘Het zuiden’ symboliseert ook hoe het traag evoluerende platteland zich wereldwijd minder en minder kan afschermen tegen de snelle modernisering. De zeven familieleden verhouden zich op verschillende wijze tot deze stedelijk-rurale kloof en tot een onontkoombare generatiekloof. Dankzij het meerstemmige vertelperspectief bespeuren we langzaamaan hoe de wisselwerking tussen spijt en verlangen, stilstand en zelfbeschikking, traditie en ambitie zich in elk familielid manifesteert. Het is de opbloeiende romance tussen twee jonge mannen die hierbij het meest tot de verbeelding spreekt.
Het Zuiden wordt aangekondigd als het eerste van vier delen en dat merk je aan de bedaarde kennismaking met de personages, de breed uitgezette verhaallijnen en de zeer vlakke spanningsboog. De vervollediging van de romancyclus zal uitwijzen of we Tash Aw gaan beschouwen als de Maleisische Coetzee of Proust.
July 1, 2025
I received a copy of this audiobook from Netgalley in exchange for an honest review. So this review is strictly for the audiobook and does not necessarily reflect my feelings for the book in general.
So this 2 stars is actually really generous because I didn't enjoy this audiobook at all. The only reason it isn't 1 star is because I think the audio just did not work for me in particular and I am interested in reading this in kindle or hard cover format in the future. And since I was given the audiobook to review from Netgalley, I want to focus on the negative experiences I had because 99% of them had to do with the format and not necessarily the story.
So this is hard because I have only just recently gotten into audiobooks and read them mostly on my commute (which is 45-60 minutes one way). There are a lot of good books which don't really work for me in audio format because for one reason or another, it is really hard for me to focus on the story. And unfortunately, that was the case here. I felt that I was constantly rewinding because I had zoned out or missed things which seriously affected my enjoyment. I have mostly found that nonfiction works best for me in audio, but I have also had a lot of luck with fantasy or romantasy genres as well as with some dramatized adaptations of some books I've already read. This book is more coming of age and literary fiction which I just think is harder for me to get into on audio, and I kept feeling like I was missing something by not reading this in a traditional way because I think there is some strong luscious writing here, but in audio I just couldn't get into it.
So my complaint with it just not being something that I could get into in audio format (in fact, if it weren't an ARC I would have DNF'd it by 20% in) is valid, but I'd also be lying if I said it was just a "it's not you, it's me" factor. Because it also was the book in a lot of ways. And the biggest reason why I didn't love this audiobook was unfortunately the narrator. Windson Liong is a Singaporean voice actor and though I love his voice, his accent made his narration very difficult for me to understand, especially coupled with the fact that I had a hard time paying attention to the story in the first place. And at the risk of sounding like a culturally inept white American woman reviewing a book set in Malaysia and written by a Malaysian author, Mr. Liong's accent was very very difficult for me to listen to for long stretches of time. And after awhile I just kind of gave up and towards the end, just kind of listened to get it done. I know that I missed a lot of key points, and even though I understand and appreciate the cultural significance of having a Singaporean narrator, but I did feel like having to concentrate too hard on what he was saying made the narration feel clunky and disjointed and I felt isolated from the plot a lot of the time. Now I already stated that I am probably not the right audiobook reader at baseline, and I did read a lot of reviewers who loved the narration so the fault is probably mine.
I am very interested in reading a physical or digital copy of this book in the future, but this audiobook was pretty much a total fail for me.
2 (very generous) stars
So this 2 stars is actually really generous because I didn't enjoy this audiobook at all. The only reason it isn't 1 star is because I think the audio just did not work for me in particular and I am interested in reading this in kindle or hard cover format in the future. And since I was given the audiobook to review from Netgalley, I want to focus on the negative experiences I had because 99% of them had to do with the format and not necessarily the story.
So this is hard because I have only just recently gotten into audiobooks and read them mostly on my commute (which is 45-60 minutes one way). There are a lot of good books which don't really work for me in audio format because for one reason or another, it is really hard for me to focus on the story. And unfortunately, that was the case here. I felt that I was constantly rewinding because I had zoned out or missed things which seriously affected my enjoyment. I have mostly found that nonfiction works best for me in audio, but I have also had a lot of luck with fantasy or romantasy genres as well as with some dramatized adaptations of some books I've already read. This book is more coming of age and literary fiction which I just think is harder for me to get into on audio, and I kept feeling like I was missing something by not reading this in a traditional way because I think there is some strong luscious writing here, but in audio I just couldn't get into it.
So my complaint with it just not being something that I could get into in audio format (in fact, if it weren't an ARC I would have DNF'd it by 20% in) is valid, but I'd also be lying if I said it was just a "it's not you, it's me" factor. Because it also was the book in a lot of ways. And the biggest reason why I didn't love this audiobook was unfortunately the narrator. Windson Liong is a Singaporean voice actor and though I love his voice, his accent made his narration very difficult for me to understand, especially coupled with the fact that I had a hard time paying attention to the story in the first place. And at the risk of sounding like a culturally inept white American woman reviewing a book set in Malaysia and written by a Malaysian author, Mr. Liong's accent was very very difficult for me to listen to for long stretches of time. And after awhile I just kind of gave up and towards the end, just kind of listened to get it done. I know that I missed a lot of key points, and even though I understand and appreciate the cultural significance of having a Singaporean narrator, but I did feel like having to concentrate too hard on what he was saying made the narration feel clunky and disjointed and I felt isolated from the plot a lot of the time. Now I already stated that I am probably not the right audiobook reader at baseline, and I did read a lot of reviewers who loved the narration so the fault is probably mine.
I am very interested in reading a physical or digital copy of this book in the future, but this audiobook was pretty much a total fail for me.
2 (very generous) stars
August 1, 2025
A slow, quiet story. I think this is going to grow on me as I think back on it. The family relationships were beautifully depicted, I loved the sibling relationship with the inevitable coming together over the holiday duration.
February 25, 2025
Thanks to NetGalley for providing me with a copy of this book.
The South can be considered part of a coming-of-age and part of a family novel for those who like categorization. It is told by Jay, 16, the youngest child of a Malaysian couple, Sui and Jake, both of Chinese origin. We are also introduced to siblings, Lina, 22 (the oldest child, already at university, usually in opposition with her father) and Yin (the middle child, at around 19, an almost close copy to their mother). The father decides they will spend the month of December in the south, somewhere close to Singapore, where Sui has a small farm that she inherited from her father-in-law. It is there where we are also met with Fong, the farm’s manager who has lived there for a lifetime, and his son, Chuan, 20, who dreams of leaving everything behind to pursue a better life, yet aware that he cannot leave his old man behind simply like that.
Besides the economic turmoil of the time, a certain moment around the end of the last century and the beginning of the new one, the drought caused by the effects of El Niño is ruining the prospects of the place.
What I loved about this novel were the options Tash Aw took to write this beautiful story. Though we navigate it by Jay’s narrative from an adult age, the author also introduces us to the inner lives and thoughts of Sui and Fong from time to time, and that is how we can gather the pieces of the puzzle together, allowing us to have the exact vision of all that is taking place around these people, their frustrations, troubles, relationships. When the narrative comes back to Jay (the one who gives voice to his mother and Fong), we are introduced to a story of self-discovery, first love with Chuan, and slow founding of his place in the world and his personality, notwithstanding the turmoil that takes place around him.
What also touched me in this story is that characters are shown, as much as possible, in all the possible shades of gray, leaving us with this feeling that many times people aren’t either good or bad, but due to the many circumstances of life, we allow things to happen the way they do, instead of fighting against them, like in Sui’s situation, her yearnings washed away to accomplish a marital life and all the rage that comes from it, silenced somewhere inside her, inherited by her oldest kid, Lina, quite an interesting character.
Tash´s prose is beautiful, no matter the dryness of the land and the turmoil these characters face. It is a reading experience I so much enjoyed.
The South can be considered part of a coming-of-age and part of a family novel for those who like categorization. It is told by Jay, 16, the youngest child of a Malaysian couple, Sui and Jake, both of Chinese origin. We are also introduced to siblings, Lina, 22 (the oldest child, already at university, usually in opposition with her father) and Yin (the middle child, at around 19, an almost close copy to their mother). The father decides they will spend the month of December in the south, somewhere close to Singapore, where Sui has a small farm that she inherited from her father-in-law. It is there where we are also met with Fong, the farm’s manager who has lived there for a lifetime, and his son, Chuan, 20, who dreams of leaving everything behind to pursue a better life, yet aware that he cannot leave his old man behind simply like that.
Besides the economic turmoil of the time, a certain moment around the end of the last century and the beginning of the new one, the drought caused by the effects of El Niño is ruining the prospects of the place.
What I loved about this novel were the options Tash Aw took to write this beautiful story. Though we navigate it by Jay’s narrative from an adult age, the author also introduces us to the inner lives and thoughts of Sui and Fong from time to time, and that is how we can gather the pieces of the puzzle together, allowing us to have the exact vision of all that is taking place around these people, their frustrations, troubles, relationships. When the narrative comes back to Jay (the one who gives voice to his mother and Fong), we are introduced to a story of self-discovery, first love with Chuan, and slow founding of his place in the world and his personality, notwithstanding the turmoil that takes place around him.
What also touched me in this story is that characters are shown, as much as possible, in all the possible shades of gray, leaving us with this feeling that many times people aren’t either good or bad, but due to the many circumstances of life, we allow things to happen the way they do, instead of fighting against them, like in Sui’s situation, her yearnings washed away to accomplish a marital life and all the rage that comes from it, silenced somewhere inside her, inherited by her oldest kid, Lina, quite an interesting character.
Tash´s prose is beautiful, no matter the dryness of the land and the turmoil these characters face. It is a reading experience I so much enjoyed.
March 16, 2025
I couldn't really get on with The Harmony Silk Factory when I attempted it soon after it came out but I think the author's style has definitely matured, and I raced to finish this ahead of a talk he gave at a local bookstore today. I liked the book well enough but not enough to really shake me up in any significant way, but the end result of this whole thing is that I liked the author a lot more than I thought I would after hearing him speak. I think I'm always wary of local writers that make it big on the international scene with the usual "sprawling family saga set in the tropics where people have no freedom like they do in the West" bs but I'm happy to report that this book doesn't indulge in any of those tropes and that Tash Aw himself was quite vocal about the very many flaws of the West, without having to put the West, which gave him a career, on a pedestal, as many, many (far too many) Asian authors do.
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