State of Emergency

by Jeremy Tiang

Winner of the 2018 Singapore Literature Prize for Fiction
Finalist for the 2016 Epigram Books Fiction Prize

Siew Li leaves her husband and children in Tiong Bahru to fight for freedom in the jungles of Malaya. Years later, a Malaysian journalist returns to her homeland to uncover the truth of a massacre committed during the Emergency. And in Singapore, Siew Li's niece Stella finds herself accused of being a Marxist conspirator.

Jeremy Tiang's debut novel dives into the tumultuous days of leftist movements and political detentions in Singapore and Malaysia. It follows an extended family from the 1940s to the present day as they navigate the choppy political currents of the region. What happens when the things that divide us also bind us together?

Genres: Fiction, Historical Fiction, Historical, Asia, Politics, Asian Literature, Novels

280 pages, Paperback

First published May 1, 2017

About the author

Jeremy Tiang is the author of State of Emergency (2017, finalist for the 2016 Epigram Books Fiction Prize) and It Never Rains on National Day (2015, shortlisted for the 2016 Singapore Literature Prize). He won the Golden Point Award for Fiction in 2009 for his story "Trondheim". He also writes and translates plays, including A Dream of Red Pavilions, The Last Days of Limehouse, A Son Soon by Xu Nuo, and Floating Bones by Quah Sy Ren and Han Lao Da. Tiang has translated more than ten books from the Chinese—including novels by Chan Ho-Kei, Zhang Yueran, Yeng Pway Ngon and Su Wei-chen—and has received an NEA Literary Translation Fellowship, a PEN/Heim Translation Grant, and a People’s Literature Award Mao-Tai Cup. He currently lives in Brooklyn.

Reviews

[Alwynne · Rating 4 out of 5]

An arresting recreation of the ongoing, brutal repression of left-wing organisations and activists in post-WW2 Singapore and adjacent Malaya/Malaysia. Jeremy Tiang’s award-winning novel plays out through the experiences of a single, Singaporean family together with a handful of their closest associates. His episodic story moves between characters as well as backwards and forwards in time. At first, Tiang’s broad sweep narrative had me grappling for a foothold but, as this unfolded, I found it increasingly gripping – partly because the turbulent histories he’s constructing here are both fascinating and relevant. It helped that Tiang is an accomplished, fluid writer. Admittedly it’s an overly-ambitious piece but I gradually began to appreciate Tiang’s emphasis on individuals, his spotlight on the human cost of blanket government policies and tactics. Forms of oppression he traces back to the workings of colonialism and the first stirrings of the Cold War.

In 1948 a State of Emergency was declared by Malaya and Singapore’s British rulers, an Emergency that officially lasted for 12 years, enabling the interrogation and detention without trial of anyone suspected of Communist sympathies. But, as Tiang’s title suggests, it was an Emergency that persisted far beyond its official end: suspicion of Communism remained the defence for draconian policing and surveillance long after Singapore – and neighbouring Malaya/Malaysia - became independent – their pasts are closely intertwined. Tiang singles out pivotal moments including the 1948 Batang Kali massacre aka the British My Lai when Chinese-Malaysian villagers were killed and their homes burnt to the ground. The remaining ethnic Chinese inhabitants were then forcibly located to ‘new villages’ contained by barbed-wire enclosures. All of which was justified as a proportional response to a so-called Communist menace. The apparent concern was that villagers employed on the many rubber plantations were funnelling supplies to left-wing insurgents in hiding nearby – workers’ food was rigidly rationed for similar reasons.

Tiang introduces Batang Kali through Nam Teck one of the village children. The adult Nam Teck becomes a left-wing sympathiser, eventually joining underground Communist forces in the Malayan jungle. Nam Teck’s experiences bring him into contact with former trade union organiser Siew Li who’s been forced to flee Singapore. In a particularly chilling section, Siew Li’s niece Stella becomes a target for Singapore’s 1987 Operation Spectrum aimed at uncovering Marxist conspiracies. During this op, Singapore’s Intelligence Service rounded up a number of Catholic charity workers. Stella is held in solitary confinement for months without charge on the basis that her charitable activities are both a cover for Communist infiltrators and an expression of deep-rooted, anti-establishment tendencies – her love of women adds to her status as a dangerous undesirable.

I found some plot developments less convincing than others particularly the accounts centred on Siew Li’s husband Jason Low and later Revathi a journalist sent to uncover the truth about what happened in Batang Kali – both are too obviously there to provide background information and represent specific, conservative political perspectives. It's also worth noting that aspects of the novel are heavily reliant on pre-existing knowledge of Singapore and surrounding regions post-WW2 - some readers may find it useful to read up on the wider context before tackling this one. But as an act of recuperation and an exploration of lost and suppressed histories it’s invaluable – and often extremely moving.

Thanks to Netgalley and publisher World Editions for an ARC

Rating: 3/3.5

[Lauren · Rating 5 out of 5]

“Read so much for what? Will Marx help you find a husband?”

~From STATE OF EMERGENCY by Jeremy Tiang, 2017.

#ReadTheWorld21📍Singapore

Tiang's novel explores several facets / faces of the leftist political movements in 20th-century Singapore.

Using six point-of-view characters across several decades, we learn through this fiction about the making of modern Singapore, rising from occupations by British in the 19th century, Japanese, and British (again) after WWII. The book opens when Singapore breaks from Malaysia, forming an independent republic in 1965. A terror act opens the book, immersing us in the tense atmosphere, and setting the political stage that fans out to subsequent generations.

A political thriller in many ways, but also a socially conscious tale of family, governments, and the stories we tell ourselves and our families.

This was a fantastic story and I learned so much from it. Very grateful for Tiang's afterword, and several interviews where he shares his sources and some field research he did in the communist camps "Peace Villages" on the Malaysian/Thai border. I also appreciated the focus on the ethnic and linguistic diversity in this region / peninsula, as well as the post-colonial politics, migrations of people and ideas, and the differences between the factions. It's a great lens into the history, and piqued my interest to read more.

"Even better, Siew Li hadn’t been forced to learn Japanese, the occupier’s language. So why would I want her to learn English now, she was fond of saying, wouldn’t that be just the same?"

[Imran Ahmed · Rating 4 out of 5]

State of Emergency by Jeremy Tiang is that new breed of Singapore novel which treads gently into areas which have hitherto remained untouched, perhaps because of the country's so called Out of Bound Markers (Subjects and government policies which are too sensitive to be debated by the general public).

As the title suggests, this novel is mostly set during the years of the Malayan Emergency of 1948 – 1960. During those years an active Communist insurgency was playing out in the jungles of Malaya (today's Malaysia) though the troubles reached as far south as Singapore itself.

Through the characters, which include a British journalist, a communist rebel fighter and her family, Tiang takes us through the reality of a divided nation fighting its own government. The author does not hold back in describing the often brutal tactics used by the British colonial regime – the Malayan Emergency was fought against the colonial authorities – to control and finally subdue the armed insurrection.

Among the tools used were torture, concentration camps and other harsh tactics used by authorities around the world to crush similar ideologically motivated armed uprisings. While these methods are 'geography-neutral,' i.e. they may be used by any country against any uprising, the harsh impact on humans varies subject to place and time. Tiang's novel highlights the repercussions of such extreme and brutal tactics on Singaporeans and their families.

Although fiction, State of Emergency is generally factually true to historic events. It shines a light on a dark segment of Malayan / Singapore history. And none too soon. It is hoped the novel is the first of many more such works revisiting a difficult period of Singapore's history. Surely, there are more stories about the Emergency buried in the concsiousness of Singaporeans and Malaysians which deserve to be heard by the general public?

(Imran is a Singapore based Tour Guide with a special interest in arts and history. Imran has lived and worked in several countries during his career as an international banker. He enjoys traveling, especially by train, as a way to feed his curiosity about the world and nurture his interest in photography. He is available on twitter (@grandmoofti); Instagram(@imranahmedsg) and can be contacted at imran.ahmed.sg@gmail.com. )

[Xueting · Rating 3 out of 5]

I made sure to read this book after it won the Singapore Literature Prize this year (2018). I read two other nominees in the Fiction category, and really wanted to see why this one beat them, especially “Sugarbread” which I really liked.

“State of Emergency” gives us a rare and important look at the leftist history of Singapore and Malaysia, which is only vaguely taught in school. The author’s immense research shows in the little details about the lives of the Communist guerillas, their family, and everyone else during the Malayan Emergency and after. The book is made up of 6 different parts, each from the perspective of a new and different narrator. They’re all related, most by blood in the same family, a few by acquaintance or as friends. Unfortunately, only the last two parts (Stella’s and Henry’s) really stood out to me. The pace and action finally picked up in those two parts, and I was actually engaged in the character’s journey, whereas the earlier parts felt too much like detailing history in a matter-of-fact way. Most of the time I felt like the events and exposing~ of truth were more of a focus than the characters, especially at the parts where there was really so much more narration than dialogue, and that’s not the kind of writing I personally can easily immerse myself into.

The writing is simple and at times beautiful, telling many diverse sides to history in a largely understandable way. And that’s really impressive and awesome, because our history of Communism is super complex and needs to be told, seeing how it’s still kept so hush-hush by the Powers That Be even today.

[Kellynn Wee · Rating 5 out of 5]

A wonderful novel written in gentle prose that emphasises, rather than conceals, the steel of its content. "State of Emergency" explores Singapore's (and Malaya's) political history--leftists, communism, detention without trial, state-corralled confessionals--through the lens of an extended family. The book is about traces and tracing--the eddies Siew Li leaves behind when she vanishes into the Malayan jungle; letters in an abandoned flat; a translated interview; a signature on a confession; a journey up the "spine of Malaya"; rubble behind a woman's teeth; a Bible tract in the lap of a dying man--and about how, despite the amnesia and fragmentation wrought by the violence of state regimes, some things remain indelible and brave and resolute. I loved it, mainly because despite its themes, it is not at its core a cynical book.

[emily · Rating 5 out of 5]

‘A safe distance away, he turned back. She looked serene—a still point amidst this hurly-burly. Something wilted inside him. He had to meet her again. Already he was thinking how best to find her. He could still see her face. What is it, he wondered, that made you look at another human being, and somehow just know?’

Even though I didn’t deliberately ‘plan’ to read this alongside Han Suyin’s …and the Rain my Drink, I’m glad it all sort of effortlessly/happenstancedly panned out this way because it felt sort of (for the lack of better words) ‘perfect’. I didn't think I could ‘love’ Jeremy Tiang's work/writings more, but obviously now I am even more impressed than before. Fully weak-kneed with incredible amounts of awe, and all those things.

‘‘I didn’t say goodbye,’ she said—a statement of fact. Time was doing strange things—She wondered if they would remember her. The kacang putih uncle was listening to the news on a little transistor radio.’

‘It started as softness beneath her feet, then a cold prickling from nowhere, and just like that she was terrified. She tried to pull herself together, to control her breath—This wasn’t Hong Liniang going to the scaffold or the girl from Malacca facing the tiger, she realised.’

‘For a while, some of them tried to continue their studies—if only for something to do. But it was too difficult—they were only allowed to have three books—at a time, and she needed a dictionary to make sense of anything, then kept getting stuck on this or that point, not being able to look it up anywhere because she’d used up her allocation. Finally she gave up, and just read more Lu Xun, which felt more familiar and comfortable, anyway.’

‘Mid-Autumn came and went. She was given a mooncake. ‘Do you celebrate the Lantern Festival?’ Devin asked. The questioning started to feel circular. She was very consistent in her answers—It was easy to be consistent if you stuck to the truth. The pointless cruelty of a bored child poking a caged animal. ‘But you always say, society treats these people badly, society neglects those people. That’s how they talk. If you’re talking like this, then it must be because someone has infected you with it—If we let you out now with nothing, it will look like we made a mistake. The old man will lose face. Do you think he’ll be happy about that?’’

‘Tiong Bahru Market is where he remembers it. They have done it up, fresh paint, even escalators, but the building remains essentially the same. Fresh food downstairs, cooked food above—Henry orders too much food: chicken rice, simmered in fragrant stock and served with chilli; double-boiled herbal soup; fried oysters in an omelette; and a shaved-ice concoction for dessert. At the cold drinks stall, he watches as the lady pushes thick stalks of sugarcane through a mechanical crusher, squeezing out sweet green liquid. There is an ominous crack, and torrents of rain begin to fall outside. He has a memory from boyhood, walking through this warm, fat tropical rain.’

‘He has to change trains twice, the second time to a driverless light-rail that runs alarmingly close to the buildings on either side, all steel and exposed concrete like a Brutalist nightmare. He wonders what it must be like to live surrounded by so many people stuffed into identical little boxes, but bites back the thought. At least people have somewhere to stay, for the most part. ‘Chrysanthemums!’ he smiles—she says, ‘He’s been living in ang moh land too long. Never mind, we’re not pantang.’ There is a handsome bookcase in pride of place, though its contents are mostly business manuals and management guides.’

‘If only we could have been closer, he thinks with some sadness. But there was all that distance, both geographical and the other sort, harder to define, that grew between them—It’s in the mornings that he’s most aware Singapore is a tropical island. Before the blunt force of noonday heat—As Henry strolls through Tiong Bahru, everything from the pink roadside bougainvillea to the small clumps of palm trees sparkle as if fresh-minted. They’ll be wilted and dusty by mid-afternoon, but for now are refreshed by the cool of night.’

‘He runs his fingers over the counter, the texture calling back something like memory. ‘I won’t be here. Don’t know if I’ll ever come back again.’ There’s a small stack of—paper spotted brown with age. He brings the first one close to his eyes and reads, piecing together the Chinese writing with difficulty: ‘I hope you are healthy, I hope you are safe—’. When he tries to remember the next few hours afterwards, they become a blur. The world is suddenly askew— And just like that, they are speeding down the North-South Highway.’

‘The landscape is featureless, mountains in the distance, scrubby plains and run-down buildings along the road. The highway rips right through the country, a long thread up the spine of the peninsula. Palm tree plantations give way to paddy fields—They sit at his rickety table and eat their nasi lemak, which tastes slightly unfamiliar. More pandan? And chicken curry instead of fried chicken. ‘If you change your mind, we can just go look at temples instead—Finding out about the past doesn’t always work out the way you hope.’ It’s only later, when they’ve wandered out in search of coffee, that he thinks to ask, ‘Have you ever wanted to find out about your own family?’’

‘They walk to a kopitiam—plastic chairs, coffee, good and strong with a layer of condensed milk at the bottom. None of this has changed in decades, he can tell. Nothing at all different but the price of the coffee. He is crying a little, and has no idea why. He has questions—but can’t remember the Chinese words for these things. Instead, he asks for directions, and she points at the peaks around him, explaining what lies where. She speaks crisply, her accent more like a Mainlander—Her expressions are old-fashioned, a little formal. The Thai name—‘dear friend’. Spindly rubber trees stand on terraces, next to durian and rambutan groves. People come—especially for the durians. Eating durians in the mountain air is a special experience.’

‘They want to have dinner with him—they’re curious—It’s not tourist season. Is he here for—the rambutans? Oh, a university professor, visiting from London? ‘I knew you couldn’t be local,’ says one of the women, ‘Your Mandarin is so terrible.’ He hasn’t ordered any food, but Gaolan says, ‘I made you something simple,’ and brings out soup, rice, and a few vegetable dishes sprinkled with meat. ‘We grow all our own vegetables,’ she adds.’

‘He’d decided on Economics, because the country would need a lot of help finding its feet, and he was convinced this was the best way for him to make a contribution. When he explained—it was like something from a different planet, but still she felt proud of him. When she mentioned this to her mother, the only response was a shrug. ‘You marry a rooster, live like a rooster; marry a dog, live like a dog. That’s how it is.’ Her mother insisted on delivering pig trotters to his parents—it was traditional—soy sauce and star anise. So many ways to be human, and most people were certain their way was best. It was one thing to go on dates—but to marry and have his child? Was she turning bougeois?’

‘You know what they call us? Pendatang, visitor. You think they will ever let us belong? They had the sort of lopsided discussion where one person gets very heated and no one else cares much about the issue. What did it mean, to carve a new thing out of chunks of land like this? What language would they speak in this new world? He had Cantonese and Mandarin, but only passable Malay and no English at all. What’s this, he asked Nam Teck, holding up a wrench, a soup spoon, a sponge. Nam Teck obligingly said the word in Cantonese, and he repeated it thoughtfully, then in Hainanese as if to map the new word onto the old—Even Nam Teck could tell that not all of his sounds were correct, but he seemed to make himself understood.’

‘Towards the end—she wrote these thoughts down in rambling letters, sometimes on paper, sometimes only in her head—The beginning was always the same: I hope you are healthy, I hope you are safe—I write in Chinese. If you ever see these words, would you even understand them? If you ask around, people will be able to tell you where it is. There must still be people who remember. Can you live with the choices you’ve made? And you know what, I can, every last one of them. By the time you get to my age, the course is set. I know what’s going to happen, all of it, right up till I die. Some people would call that a blessing.’

‘She keeps breaking into Hakka, and I only know Cantonese. I’m trying to work out what she means. Her English was fluent, but in Putonghua she was just as alien as the rest—I was a bit worried because there’d been so much rain—monsoon season was heavier than normal—Not all right, she wanted to cry, there’s nothing all right about this. I’m six thousand miles from home in a climate that makes no sense to me any more—and lives are still being destroyed over it. What can I say? I’m not the right person for the story, except somehow I’m the one who’s here.’

‘A light drizzle fell as he ran through the streets, probably faster than was safe on the slippery pavement. He smelled frangipani in the air. They said this meant a pontianak was in the vicinity, waiting to tear your soft belly open with her claws and devour your insides with her comely mouth. A dog howled, far away. He—wished he could have left her a note. Without much thought, going by instinct—Nam Teck became Xiongmin.’

‘Drying himself with a Good Morning towel, the same as he’d had in town, Xiongmin thought what a beautiful world he’d landed in. After dinner (rice, salt fish, sweet potato), they sang or read. They always finished with sponge cake—Look forward, he chided himself, think of the world to come.’

‘Everyone was very kancheong—None of us dared to bring food out with us when we went to tap rubber, we all went without lunch—We had food and work and a place to live, we didn’t want to cause any trouble. My husband wasn’t perfect, but he was better than a lot of people. We kept moving, and I knew then we had nowhere to go back to.’

‘He smiles, ‘I knew she was doing something like that, but I chose not to notice. Why make trouble? She missed you terribly—I could tell, even though she hardly mentioned you—I wasn’t jealous, we all had things in our past. I loved her too, you see.’ Henry looks at him, uncertain what he means. Xiongmin is wiry, light on his feet. Even though he must be past seventy, his hair is still quite thick, and mostly black.’

‘This is some sort of underground museum, it turns out—lit by orangey halogen lamps. He goes up to the counter for a ticket (priced in both ringgit and baht). The woman there also tries to entice him into buying some incense. ‘The tourists kept asking for an Earth God shrine, so we set up one down the hill. It’s a Malaysian-Chinese thing: wherever they go, they want to pray to the local gods.’’

‘‘I used to be Ah Mui,’ says Gaolan. ‘Can you imagine? I don’t think about Ah Mui much, these days. She was a different person.’’

Also, I thought Balasingamchow’s article (on Electric Lit) on Tiang’s writing was brilliantly done (very interesting, and informative read). Some excerpts below.

‘Han Suyin’s novel, ‘And The Rain My Drink’ was very influential on me. She lived through this historical period, and her novel weaves together many points of view of people living side by side yet having very different political views of the world. She and I have very different vibes, but she writes in a way that I had never seen before, the astonishing way she’s able to see the entire tapestry and every level of the conflict at the same time.’

‘In my novel, I wanted to have both the English-educated and Chinese-educated perspectives—I wrote it for myself, in the sense that these were the things I wanted to unravel and think through. I knew about these individual pockets of history but not how they all joined together. I had to write the novel to find those connections, to make sense of it all and to spend a sustained period of time in that world. Even if it had never gotten published and never found readers, it would still have been worthwhile because it was a process I wanted to go through.’

‘Both of them (Hai Fan's Delicious Hunger and Jeremy Tiang's 'State of Emergency') are set in periods of history that are very different to the world we’re in now. Both are about people who believe very much in something and fight very hard to make that thing happen. There’s a tendency to think that the struggle failed—but I don’t think they see it that way. They created a society in the rainforest that wasn’t in thrall to capitalism and that allowed them to live communally on their own terms, and they did that for decades. I think they created the society they wanted to see in the world, and they got to live out their principles, which most of us don’t get to do. Perhaps that’s a useful corrective to today’s focus on outcomes. We often think about where we want to end up and focus very hard on that, rather than on seeing your life as a kind of intentional practice and living your life according to the principles you want to espouse.’

[Kastel · Rating 3 out of 5]

A couple stuck in time stares at potential readers and buyers of the book. This arresting image never leaves you once you open up the book and read the epitaph from Walter Benjamin’s The Philosophy of History and translated by Harry Zohn:

“The history of the oppressed teaches us that the ‘state of emergency’ in which we live is not the exception but the rule.”

A page after, “Mollie Remedos died in the explosion that tore apart MacDonald House on 10 March 1965.” Jason, Mollie’s brother, swore revenge on the bombers and tasted justice when they were hanged on 17 October 1968. But his “instinct for revenge feels blunted” after fifty years have passed. Nothing has changed and he still feels the loss of his sister.

And he also loses his wife, Siew Li, to the same political turmoil. The married couple and four other people closely connected to them lose their innocence and livelihoods in very similar ways. Jason lives and dies in Singapore without ever meeting his wife again. Siew Li dreams of being a hero for Singapore and joined communist movements before getting separated from her husband and children. Nam Teck remembers his father being dragged to the forest and his mother and him moved about in fenced villages until he had enough and went to the capital city of Malaysia. Revathi’s parents tell her all about the Emergency as she begins to venture to Malaysia for a news scoop that will shock her life. Stella, Siew Li’s cousin, is in detention without trial for activities linked to communism. And Henry, Jason’s and Siew Li’s son, pays his respects to his father before searching for his mother in the outskirts of Malaysia.

All six cannot blame each other or themselves for their problems because their worlds are always in a state of emergency. A new emergency can rise up from nowhere and politicians must find scapegoats and sacrificial lambs to appease their citizens.

Even if the emergency is nonexistent.

These six stories show a Singapore and Malaysia that don’t belong to the official Singapore narrative the government has conjured up. It shows a Singapore paranoid by the first Indonesian president Sukarno’s rise to power and his communist party and a Malaysia torn apart by racism. Despite being set in different periods of time, the two countries are always alarmed by any sudden moves. They do not mind jailing or killing people cold-blooded in the open.

The most powerful chapter in the book has to be Stella’s imprisonment. Based on anecdotes on a real incident, her stories show how easy it is to be gaslighted in the Singapore prisons. Her interrogators questions her intention on helping foreign workers and whether she knows what she is doing is what the communists want. All Stella cares is that it’s not fair for them to be treated poorly, but the interrogators argue their way with the coldest logic that can only be derived from the principles of meritocratic societies:

“Do you want us all to be the same? You think everyone in society should earn the same money? That’s not possible. Some people work harder than others, some people are cleverer. If we did what you people want, then our society will never progress, and soon our women will have to go and be maids in other people’s countries are. Stella, we know who you are, you don’t have to pretend any more. Other people in your ring have already confessed. You want to destroy our society. You want to bring us all down to your level. Stella, we know that you are a communist.”

Any sign of sympathy or empathy is seen as communistic behavior in Singapore. Nobody is born equal and deserve the same rights as others. Singapore is where it is today because it is unfair and unequal according to this logic.

And Cheng Mun, one of the interrogators, believes in that without any sense of shame. In fact, he says to Stella that she shouldn’t be ashamed either. She could do much more as a department head than the lowly position of a teacher:

“We live in a meritocracy if you earn more money then it’s because you’re clever, you work harder than others. Why do you talk about being fair all the time? Do you think some people earn so much?”

“I never said that,” [said Stella.]

“But you complain that these maids, these people you are trying to help, they earn too little. If some people earn too little, then some people must be earning too much. Am I right?”

Her “feeling of helplessness” she feels in every interrogation session makes her wonder if this is “really what she was saying”. Is she indeed helping the Communist cause in the Philippines to overthrow the Singapore government? That line of reasoning “is impossible to argue” in her mind and it is as if “every word that came from her mouth could be turned round to condemn her further.” Maybe she is a card-carrying communist threatening the establishment of Singapore. And she should be ashamed for her actions, for trying to help raise awareness for the maids who are paid low wages or none. Her rallies may be well-intentioned, but the interrogators show that they really are tools for the Communist parties to cause discord in Singaporean society.

That is how the political process of gaslighting worked and you find yourself intertwined with the bizarre doublespeak logic the government has forced upon you. It is the Orwellian nightmare come true but somehow worse. This guilt Stella has is real and needs to be felt by many people.

Because the state of emergency is the history of Singapore and Malaysia in this novel. Whoever the government blames becomes the victims and perpetrators at the same time according to history. Whether it be Siew Li who merely helps out organize perfectly legitimate campaigns or Stella who is doing God’s work for the needy and the poor, everyone is a criminal and a casualty. No one can escape this psychological state of emergencies, which has now been mandated as a statute in the law books.

What can be salvaged can only be done through a rekindling of who has survived this mess. A little bit of hope still exists, but hoping requires willpower and bravery. There are still plenty of stories untold in this lost history of time and it feels like the book is encouraging its readers to seek more of these kinds of tales.

I may be a bit biased in my speculation because this isn’t explicit in the text but in a talk by the writer in a Kinokuniya and Epigram Books panel last month. Together with fellow Epigram Fiction 2016 finalist O Thiam Chin, Jeremy Tiang talks about what it means to write a book about Singapore.

The society of Singapore is often seen in the perspective of English-educated Singaporean Chinese and that is blinding. He wants to write against that. A translator of eclectic Chinese writers like Zhang Yueran, Tiang wants to show what the other sides think of the country. He notices that communism in Singapore is barely talked about in English texts, despite its close ties to the independence of Singapore. So most of his sources according to his talk come from untranslated Chinese books about the communists in Singapore and Malaysia.

He is also a stickler for historical accuracy as he has traveled to all the locations mentioned in his book, even if he admits that “there’s probably nothing since it’s all in the past.” While he does let himself some artistic license, he is very meticulous with his facts which is present in the book. Tiang also gives little care about the controversy from Stella’s chapter, which may have caused the National Art Council to withdraw the grant money; he says that it is all based on accounts left by people who underwent the detention and stands by them and their pain.

And the book really thrives on his passion and empathy for the people who have lost their lives to the various emergencies in Singapore and Malaysia. This isn’t a perfect book at all; there are scenes that go on forever and it doesn’t always read nice aloud. I also feel it may have benefited from some more historical context too since I got lost in the book a couple of times. But there are many strong moments scattered throughout the book and it shows a part of history no one seems to know about.

That often means it will be uncomfortable, grueling, and challenging for anyone reading it. It shows the historical reality of life before us and how we should respect them as we move forward. We can still find some kind of harmony after these tragic events as long as know how to go past them and the lost time can be regained when we learn to hold each other’s hands again.

Adapted from The Singapore Political Novels: Let’s Give It Up for Gimme Lao! and State of Emergency.

[Kwan-Ann · Rating 5 out of 5]

guys: this is really REALLY good

[Freddie · Rating 4 out of 5]

The degree of what is said and unsaid can make this novel feel cold and detached at the beginning, but as the fragmented narrative continues, there's a stronger sense of cohesion and the emotional anchor becomes more defined.

[Karolina · Rating 4 out of 5]

Very good read - not only well written, but also showed me how little I know about the history of this part of the world: Malaysia, Singapore, Indonesia.

[Práxedes Rivera · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a very well written novel about a topic I knew nothing about. Tiang leads the reader through a particularly violent period in the history of Malaya/Malasia/Singapore, complete with political an military struggles. The plot is revealed by means of several narrators, each loosely connected to the others, who present us the story from diverse viewpoints. There is love, violence, family, and politics galore throughout the book, and it was not easy to put down.

[Shawn Mooney (Shawn Breathes Books)]

I read a fifth of this. While the story was moderately interesting, the characters never came alive enough for me to want to see how it all turned out.

[A.K. Kulshreshth · Rating 5 out of 5]

My piece in The Historical Novels Review .

[Violet · Rating 4 out of 5]

I didn't know much about the history of Singapore (and Malaysia) after WWII, so this novel which spans several decades just after the war was a really interesting one which made me read more about it and about the political repression that took place for so many years. We follow several characters, starting with Jason who is terminally ill, reminiscing about his wife Siew Li, a political activist who disappeared many years prior. We meet their children, Janet and Henry, their cousin Stella, who lost her mother in a bomb attack, Siew Li herself and the people she made a life with after her disappearance... Because it is a short novel, we don't spend that much time with each character and I would have liked to see more of some of them.
The novel is well-written and I liked the factual tone and Jeremy Tiang's talent for taking us inside the characters' heads.

Free ARC sent by Netgalley.

[Jade · Rating 5 out of 5]

In the movie “Lady Bird”, the main character is Christine, this high school girl who spends the bulk of the movie trying to get away from Sacramento and California because she hates the place, and yet towards the end of the film, her teacher / advisor points out how much she loves Sacramento because of the details she includes in her personal statement, and how paying attention is maybe just the same thing as love.

I am reminded of this movie, because it’s the devotion to the details that are quintessentially Singaporean, which makes State of Emergency (and all other good Singlit books, for that matter) such a moving read: the way, for example, the writer describes Tiong Bahru - how I know exactly which flats he is talking about when he talks about the flats that are arranged in a U-shape; how they have rickety spiral staircases; how the bookstore with a cat on the counter is Booksactually; the details of Tiong Bahru hawker centre; the gentrification; the hipster cafes. This is why Singlit is so precious: I remember I last felt this way when I was reading Ministry of Moral Panic, and as I was dragging my sleepy, tired self to school, all of a sudden my HDB void deck felt full of secrets, promises and stories - for the first time I began to wonder about the neighborhood cat that occasionally sits on the bench; the elderly who sit around aimlessly and stare out listlessly; the piece of tissue paper callously thrown left behind: what are the stories behind these people, places, things?

“Representation” is probably one of those words that’s been thrown around so much in debates about identity politics that it fades into a sort of ambient white noise - but I read Singlit and I am reminded why representation is important, because representation - when done right, when done well - brings to the audience the flesh, blood and life of places. I remember going to the Sorrento Coast and writing, that I feel blessed to be able to visit and gaze upon the fabled cliffs upon which the Sirens resided, but how it is also the great fortune of European children, to have grown up with these myths and stories of their home known by them and by people who don’t know them. As I was traveling along the East Coast of the US, I think about how I feel like I’m making a sort of pilgrimage by being physically present at all these places that I’ve read so much about. But the point remains that in visiting, I can only ever at best be a pilgrim: these places and stories do not belong to me. I read the description of Tiong Bahru in State of Emergency, and I don’t have to make a pilgrimage to see those places myself: I have their images in my head; they are already with me and have always been with me, and so Tiong Bahru feels authentic and real and home, in a way that Sorrento or New York can never be.

And yet, the flesh, the blood and the real is almost always going to be messy, disorganized: it is never going to fit neatly into a box regardless of how hard you try. And this is how Singlit packs a punch, because what makes it real is how it shows you the sides of Singapore that you can love unconditionally, alongside the things that break your heart. I keep coming back to this quote by Alfian Sa’at, that if you care too much about Singapore, first it breaks your spirit, then it breaks your heart. Singlit cares too much about Singapore, and so in reading it, it breaks your spirit, then it breaks your heart. State of Emergency’s chapter on Operation Spectrum made me very angry, as did the way some of the characters’ LGBT identities were used against them by other characters in the book. I am angry and upset because I know that even though this is a work of fiction - or maybe precisely because this is a work of fiction - this is probably a pretty accurate description of the things that do actually happen in Singapore that we often don’t realise or even consciously choose not to think about: the child we mistreat and hide away at the bottom of our basement as the price in exchange for our comfortable, safe, air-conditioned lives.

I did not expect State of Emergency to be such an emotional read, but I’m thankful for it, because that shows how close it cuts to the core of what it means to be Singaporean: the love, the contradictions, the pain.

[Li Sian · Rating 5 out of 5]

One of the best books I've read so far this year. Jeremy Tiang writes an unforgettable novel about generations of young men and women caught up in leftist movements in Singapore and state repression thereof. I enjoyed Tiang's sharp character work - he has a gift for giving his characters a depth that invite sympathy even as he's not above subtly mocking them (the strait-laced devout Christian, the self-righteous academic, the unhappy explosive father). This did much to make his novel a fascinating reconstruction of Singapore history rather than the flat didactic dramatisation it could so easily have been.

[Elena L. · Rating 4 out of 5]

[ 3.5/5 stars ]

Inspired by the history of political repression in Singapore, STATE OF EMERGENCY follows different perspectives of characters whose lives are deeply impacted by the political tumult in Singapore and Malaysia.

There's certain urgency in the pages that emanates from characters who make visceral decisions while also have to deal with the consequences of their choices. This novel provides glimpses of a part of history that I knew little about and which I appreciated reading about. Tiang's prose is straight, conveying the events in a more telling way that makes the passage of time feel like a whirlwind.

There's a cast of characters whose characterization is effective at painting the overall historical picture, however I yearned for a more profound exploration of their inner thoughts. Regardless of my own expectations about the details, what Tiang does in less than 300 pages is shining light on the history of Communism that must be told.

Tiang's debut novel is a relevant work for those wanting to know more about Singaporean/ Malayan history. I am glad I had this reading experience. (ps: what an insightful foreword!)

[ I received an ARC from the publisher - World editions . All opinions are my own ]

[JoAnn · Rating 3 out of 5]

State of Emergency is a historical fiction that weaves a timeline from 1940s Singapore/Malaysia to the present. Exploring the tumultuous period of the Emergency and leftist movements across borders, this novel seeks to give readers a look into life at the time, as well as the perspectives of those entangled in it (both willing and unwillingly).

Written in simple and straightforward prose, Tiang gives us a cohesive storyline, with each chapter focusing on the perspectives of different people. It sounds a little confusing, but it was a relatively seamless reading experience because all these characters are related to one another (either family-wise or friend/acquaintance-wise). I'd recommend taking note of the names so that you can see the links between each of the character's experiences + not get lost if you put it down and pick it up a few days later.

On the whole, I thought this was a very interesting read on yet another part of Singaporean history that remains obscured and minimised in our textbooks today (aka Operation Spectrum, Malayan communists etc.). Having researched and listened to the experiences of those who lived through it, Tiang intricately explores the day-to-day lives of some of the characters back then, delving into their thoughts, emotions and the clashing of differing perspectives. However, it was a shame that I felt a little detached from the characters themselves, who, while interesting in terms of their thoughts and motivations, somehow simultaneously felt like one-dimensional stereotypes without much depth. Moreover, I only felt a lot more invested in the story when it came to Stella and Henry's perspectives, which only occurs in the later half of the book.

Overall, as long as you keep in mind that it's a bit more plot-driven, State of Emergency remains a great introduction to those who don't know much about this period of Singapore's history and I highly rec it to people who'd like to explore more of our past, but are intimidated by nonfic/academic text.

[Ong Dan Rei · Rating 5 out of 5]

Was such a great read and was thoroughly engaged with how the story was told; from the perspective of an extended family with different chapters taking on the different POVs. I've not read much historical fiction but this really made me want to delve into more books in the same genre. Jeremy Tiang writes with such efficiency and the narrative truly felt it was spanning several decades even if this is not a very long book.

A strong recommendation for anyone who has any interest in Singaporean and Malaysian post-war history.

[Lilli · Rating 5 out of 5]

This was my first foray into Malaysian and Singaporean history and literature, and State of Emergency left a profound impression. It’s a stunning book that cleverly weaves together the lives of its characters across intersecting timelines and connections, offering a nuanced portrait of a tumultuous period in history.

The book is largely narrative-driven, with minimal dialogue—a feature I didn’t consciously notice until another review pointed it out. On reflection, I realized how well this choice serves the story and its characters. The narration, intertwined with the characters’ inner thoughts, mirrors their situations perfectly.

For instance, Jason spends much of the novel in solitude, contemplating his life and grieving lost loved ones. The absence of dialogue amplifies his isolation. Similarly, Siew Li’s involvement in covert communist activities forces her to carefully guard her words and thoughts, underscoring the pervasive atmosphere of suspicion and danger. In this way, the scarcity of dialogue becomes a strength, immersing the reader in the characters’ realities.

Tiang’s writing is masterful, balancing character development and plot with rich historical context and atmosphere. State of Emergency is both a deeply personal and broadly resonant story, shedding light on a complex history while delving into themes of loyalty, identity, and sacrifice.

Overall, this is a beautifully written and thought-provoking novel that I highly recommend to anyone interested in history, literature, or simply a well-told story.

Thank you to World Editions for the ARC on NetGalley.

[Orion · Rating 5 out of 5]

I can't believe how well thought-out and beautifully written this book is. We get a nuanced understanding into the Communist struggle and fight during post-WW2 Singapore, a deep insight into the unwritten and unexplored wars and uncertainty during the times when the government clamped down on Leftists.

We get to see the perspective of leftists fighting in the jungles of Malaya, being detained, and the impact they have left on their loved ones. The book presents a well-rounded look into how the Emergency, an often written-off part of Singaporean history, affected and shaped the lives of many families and citizens.

The book is a sombre look into how revolutionary action is mostly for nought and yet is inspiring, showing the fire and determination of the human spirit. It shows how full of love human beings are, and it shows their endurance.

They will fight and they will be remembered because they are full of love, hope and dreams.

[R. · Rating 5 out of 5]

I do not typically read historical fiction, and I picked this book up on a whim, simply because it won the Singapore Literature Prize in 2018. But WOW, was I captivated by the different stories that Tiang offers in State of Emergency.

Tiang provides a nuanced understanding of the Malayan Communist Party in 1940s Singapore. This narrative is not biased towards the members of the communist party. It provides a wide range of stories from different voices - the communists, the family members of the communists, and others who share a clear connection with the aforementioned characters. State of Emergency informs our understanding of the motives that support the Chinese communists, and also the reverberating effects that their decisions and actions have on their family members and friends. Tiang does not romanticize communism, neither does he condemn it. Instead, he presents you with both sides of the story, and allows you to decide what you want to believe about the historical event.

The research that Tiang undertakes certainly helps to build a well sustained and informative narrative. I was silently bowled over by the amount of detail that Tiang includes about the state of emergency, particularly the details about how the communists fought in the jungle. My grandparents used to tell me stories about how their classmates who had chosen to fight in the jungles never returned, and the book certainly provides insight/speculations on where their friends could have gone.

My only point of criticism, would have to be the ending. The ending, as it stands, is very abrupt. I wish there was a better ending that brought some sort of closure to its characters.

I never expected to like this book so much, and I'm just so thankful I picked this up at the bookstore. I highly recommend this book! Just read it!

[Ming · Rating 3 out of 5]

The book's beginning is gripping and it maintains this tone and pace for about the first half. I was engrossed and wanted to learn what happens.

Then the sections on Revanthi and Stella slowed things considerably. Revanthi's interview rehashes what's been told earlier and feels artificial, and the story ambles along. Also, there's something about her that feels shallow, undeveloped. Stella's interrogations drag down the pace even more. I know there were many sessions but at this point, I started to question if they would amount to anything. (Those interrogators reminded me of similar ones in The Sympathizer that the Communists conducted.)

I enjoyed the book and the writing is generally solid. It's not American English and at certain points, I wondered if it was a typo or a mistake...the awkward writing at these points brought the book to a screeching halt. But I wanted to find out what happened to the characters that started the book. And we do. The conclusion is bittersweet.

[Andrew McDougall · Rating 5 out of 5]

One of the best books I have read this year...
Tiang...writes excellently and this novel covers some important moments in Singaporean history, dealing with leftist rebellions and Singapore’s relationship with Malaysia and Britain, pre and post-independence. The story is told in the third person but with each of the six chapters focussing on a different character... We will learn what connects them and most will appear in more than one chapter. Each has their own story, self-contained, but only fully understood in the wider context. The novel deals with themes including colonialism, post-colonialism, leftist politics, labour movements, capitalism, guerrilla warfare, political detention, human rights and more. Not only a tremendous literary accomplishment in its own right, but arguably a must-read for anyone wishing to better understand the region.

Full review here.

[Fiona · Rating 5 out of 5]

…right in the middle of a war that’s not a war, that’s stretching on even though it ended ten years ago. This is one day, twenty-two years ago, and lives are still being destroyed over it…I’m not the right person for the story, except somehow I’m the one who’s here. (p. 143)

A suspenseful and intricate novel that explores how the ramifications of the Malayan Emergency and the state(s) reaction to perceived ideological deviance plays out in the lives of these related people across different generations. The reverberations and the legacies of this all-out war, between the British colonial officials and the Malayan Communists, are deftly and methodically dissected in this novel, through the lives of six people. Never allowing the weight of history nor ideology bog the narrative down, this novel brings the reader through the political changes through different perspectives.

[Judith Huang · Rating 5 out of 5]

An elegant novel about leftists in Singapore from the 1940s to the present day, Jeremy tiang’s #stateofemergency is perfectly paced and has one of the most satisfying endings I have read. The love poured into the research and craft of this novel is obvious. There’s also a bonus cameo of @booksactually for those who recognize it in the last chapter. #singlitftw #judreads #bookreview #bookstagram #bookcover #bookish #singlit #sglitftw #ireadbooksactually @epigrambooks #ebfp #epigrambooks #girlswhoread

[Dhevarajan · Rating 5 out of 5]

Every chapter is so immersive and the story comes together cleverly. It really brings alive a dark aspect of our history that some prefer to leave forgotten. Also like how the queer characters are simply part of the story and not awkward insertions. Now adding the books in the Acknowledgement section to my reading list!

[Richard Martin · Rating 5 out of 5]

A gripping book which gives excellent insight into the recent turbulent history of Malaysia and Singapore.
Next week here in Singapore I'll be at the screening of the film version, "1987: UNTRACING THE CONSPIRACY". Afterwards there is a Q&A session with film director and ex-detainees.

[Shu Wen · Rating 5 out of 5]

Really excellent read; a story of Singapore and its place in the Third World (and later, First) that we have been waiting for a long time. Highly recommended

[Sébastien · Rating 4 out of 5]

“Something heavy was settling onto her, an unpleasant awareness that the world was aslant and she was at the higher end. What could she do?”

In his debut novel State of Emergency, Jeremy Tiang offers a slice of Singapore's history that is less discussed by people. This historical fiction delves into the tempestuous time of leftist movements and political detentions in Singapore and Malaysia. The novel also shortlisted for the 2016 Epigram Books Fiction prize. In 2018, Tiang won the prestigious Singapore Literature Prize for English fiction for this novel.

The novel comprises six parts and each narrated by six characters telling loosely connected stories through their own experiences and in different time frame. Jason's wife, Siew Li, left him with two children to fight for freedom in the jungle of Malaya. His sister died in MacDonald House bombing during the Konfrontasi. After losing the people he love in the political turmoil, Jason shut down. The children grew up knowing nothing about their mother. Siew Li recruited a Malaysian youth whose father was massacred during the Emergency to join the Communist. Stella, Jason's niece, was accused of conspiracy for Marxist conspirator and sent to detention without trial. Henry, Jason and Siew Li's son returned to Singapore after living in London for many years and discovered about his family's chronicle.

From the early years before Singapore gaining independence to present days, the book tells a devastating story of an extended family members tangled in the political turmoils. Differences in political opinion (or sometimes being indifferent) divide people but the fundamentals of being human also solace them. As told from multiple point of views, the writer imparts with a perfect blend of brilliant narratives. Precise and sharp in some parts with abrupt pace. When necessary, pensive and lyrical proses are used craftily.

Massive appreciation for the writer on his exhaustive research and competent storytelling. It is such an enthralling read on some invisible parts of the history. Impressive portrayal of women characters in this book. Strong and committed women as well as meek but powerful one are the foundations of this story. Men, too, are portrayed diversely. With the concoction of insightful information and unforgettable characters, Tiang takes his readers to the road less traveled by others and it certainly makes a huge difference.