Overall, the morbidish topic of inheritance gave me the creeps. All the vulturing relatives, blechworthy!
I couldn't help laughing at the scene with Eddie and his toilet cubicle shoe adoration thingy! Signing Eddie, crying Eddie, prostrating Eddie… he overdid himself!
The death scene - too sad, even for all the pathetic relatives and antics of most of them …
Astrid and Charlie - finally! - so sweet! Even for all the drama.
The ob-gyn performance left me in hiccups!!!
Q:
Eddie fondled the slick plastic badge as if it were a jewel-encrusted amulet, personally bestowed on him by the God of Davos. This badge distinguished him from all the pee-ons at the conference. He wasn’t some PR hack, journalist, or one of the common attendees. This white plastic badge with the blue line at the bottom meant that he was an official delegate. (c)
Q:
Taking the seat next to Piya on a velvet Ruhlmann settee, he whispered, “So, I take it you had an IGWEL badge?”
Piya was momentarily confused. “I’m sorry, are your referring to Davos?”
“Yes. When you were at Davos two years ago, what kind of badge did they give you? The white one with the blue line at the bottom, or the plain white one with the hologram sticker?”
“I’m afraid I can’t remember what it looked like.”
“What did you do with it?”
“I wore it,” Piya replied patiently, wondering why on earth her husband’s cousin was so weirdly fixated on this badge.
“I mean, what did you do with your badge after the conference?”
“Er…I must have either thrown it away or left it in the hotel room.”
Eddie stared at her in disbelief. His Davos badge was folded and placed in a special pouch along with his prized Roger W. Smith*6 watch and his precious sapphire-and-platinum cuff links. He couldn’t wait to get it framed the minute he returned to Hong Kong. (c)
Q:
“if you aren’t a Christian, what do you consider yourself to be?”
“I respect every god,” she replied softly. (c)
Q:
“My grandfather Shang Loong Ma’s people were Buddhists, Taoists, Quan Yin worshippers, all that mishmash of religions…you know, in that old-fashioned Chinese sort of way.” (c)
Q:
“What a waste of time…” Jack muttered under his breath.
“Waste of time? Do you even know who my friend is?”
“Some silly model.”
“She’s not just a model—she’s the wife of Colin Khoo.”
“No idea who that is.”
…
And now the First Lady is about to arrive—”
“And it looks like Mozart came with her.”
“Oh my God, that’s not Mozart, that’s Karl Lagerfeld. He’s a very, very, very important man! He’s the Kaiser of fashion.”
“What the fuck does that even mean?”
“He is so powerful, he could simply flare one of his nostrils and have me banned from Chanel forever and I might as well be dead. Please, please be polite.”
Jack snorted. “I’ll try not to fart in his general direction.” (c)
Q:
“Why the hell did you have to marry Dad, a complete nobody from Hong Kong? Why couldn’t you marry someone else, like an Aakara or a Leong? Someone with a respectable surname? Didn’t you think of how it would affect your children? Didn’t you realize how it has fucked up my whole life?... YOU’VE NEVER EVEN GIVEN ME A BUTT MASSAGE!” (c)
Q:
“Oh my God, Rachel, the president of China has come to pay his respects!”
Much to their surprise, the next person to emerge was a tall, lanky college-age kid with long, messy shoulder-length brown hair, dressed in tight black jeans, steel-tipped black boots, and a black tuxedo jacket. A Chinese man in a pinstripe suit and a blond middle-aged lady in a black dress with a pale green shawl draped around her shoulders emerged next, followed by a cute fair-haired girl of about twelve.
“Stranger and stranger,” (с)
Q:
The Bride of Frankenstein just walked in! (c)
Q:
Good grief, they look like they are in some suicide cult! (c)
Q:
It was grand, and it was strange. The Sultan of Borneo talked about the war and how my great-grandfather helped to save his family. He spoke in Malay, so everything had to be translated by this very perky woman. Then my brother spoke, and he was so weird and stilted he sounded like the Manchurian Candidate. (c)
Q:
“...You know how invisible I try to be…. Well, I’m wandering the streets of Singapore in nothing but a little linen shift and bedroom sandals, and no one’s even noticing me.”
“I bet you’re wrong. I bet every guy on the street is thinking, who is that half-naked babe?” (c)
Q:
She looked in and saw Eddie lying on the floor in a fetal position, his head in Fiona’s lap. Fiona sat on the floor, calm as a pietà, stroking his hair as he sobbed uncontrollably like a little boy. She looked up at Jiayi, and the maid quickly closed the door. (c)
Q:
If it made for a slightly schizophrenic menu, no one noticed except the in-laws. (c)
Q:
“Well, my mum just screamed at me in a way I’ve never heard before and ordered me to leave the country. Otherwise, life is peachy. How has your day been so far?” (c)
Q:
This morning I walked outside into the garden and saw that all the rhododendron trees have bloomed overnight. Suddenly they are bursting with flowers, in shades of pink I never knew could exist. Blooms so thick, they brushed against my face as I walked through the garden weeping uncontrollably. Ah Jit knew how much I loved these flowers. He did this for me. I know he did. (c)
Q:
... the first thing she saw was a medical examination table in the middle of the room, the kind with raised footrests found in gynecological clinics.
“You know, Rachel, I’m an ob-gyn in Brisbane, and if you have any medical concerns at all about your reproductive system, we can address them right now,” …
“Here, why don’t you put this on and get on the table, and I’ll perform a quick pelvic exam?”
“Um, I’m quite all right, thanks.” Rachel began backing away from her.
Reaching into her pocket, Jackie pulled out a pair of surgical gloves and began to put them on. “This will just take a few minutes. Auntie Elle just wants to know how those ovaries of yours are doing.” (c)
Q:
“You want a prayer? I’ll give you a prayer. Dear Lord, thank you for getting me the fuck out of here. Amen!” (c)
Q:
“You know, it might sound cliché, but getting away from it all has been a transformative experience for me. I’ve realized that so many of my fears aren’t really my own. They’re the fears of my mother, my father, my grandparents. I’ve just unconsciously internalized them, and I’ve let these fears affect every decision I make. So a few people see me naked on a secluded beach in one of the remotest places on earth. Who cares? I’m proud of my body, I have nothing to hide. But of course, some voice in my head would automatically say, ‘Astrid, put some clothes on. It’s not proper. You’re a Leong, and you’re going to disgrace the family.’ And I realize that most of the time it’s my mother’s disapproving voice I hear.”
“Your mother has always driven you half crazy,” (c)
Q:
I can acknowledge whenever my mother is reacting out of this fear, but the most powerful thing I’ve realized is that I’m not responsible for her pain. (c)