I read “Memories of the Memories of the Black Rose Cat” by Veeraporn Nitiprapha like one watches a soap opera, or a telenovela. One short chapter, packed with love, passion, tragedy and drama, per day. The lives of Jongsawang, Jarungsilp, Jerdsri, Jitsawai, Jarassang and a few dozens of secondary characters occupied my evenings for three weeks or so.
Nitiprapha crafted an epic family saga about Chinese immigrants in Thailand, spanning several generations and most of the 20th century; the last event mentioned, which roots the story in reality, is the massacre at Thammasat University in 1975. Everyone’s life, despite occasional happiness and joy, is in its core tragic, and the source of the tragedy are common human vices: jealousy, greed, unrealistic expectations, self-hatred, pride, self-righteousness and inability to regulate emotions, which cloud judgment and usually lead to a chain of one bad decision after another. So much pain that people inflict on one another made me ponder on how so many people constantly balance between sanity and mental illness. I was quite astonished to see that characters seem mainly weak in spirit, unable to learn what would help them lead healthy lives. I don’t remember the last time I saw so little self-introspection and self-awareness. And yet, the novel was - in moderation - a delight to read. Nitiprapha’s unmistakable rich language and her storytelling speak of an incredible imagination and way of looking at the world. This year I want to focus more on books exploring the concept of memory and this book was a great example showing how fragile and elusive memory can be.
Still, what disappointed me was the emotional distance that the author built between the characters and the story and the reader. I believe there is simply too much of everything here, too extreme emotions, too dramatic life ends for the reader to actually care much. While I adored her previous novel, “The Blind Earthworm in the Labyrinth”, and felt all protagonists were made of flesh and blood, the ones in “Memories…” were akin to wooden puppets. And that’s a major flaw in my opinion. Epic proportions but flat, one-dimensional, immature characters.
A gorgeous writing style, characters that are super fun to loathe and judge, but ultimately a terribly told story. Save your time and just go read The Blind Earthworm instead...it is far better.