KL Noir: Magic is, hands down, the best Malaysian English anthology I’ve read so far. Despite its name, there are only a few stories that involve literal magic, but the reading experience is undoubtedly magical. Remember how much I complain about how Malaysian storytellers like their shock value and/or trick endings? NOT A SINGLE STORY in this book has that. While some of the stories have endings that are open to interpretation, each story is a satisfying read.
The editor, Deric Ee, has carefully curated a book that is unlike its predecessors. There are no stories about corrupt politicians or evil in the guise of holy men that were prominently featured in previous KL Noir series. Noir doesn’t come in the form of seedy people doing seedy business in seedy parts of Kuala Lumpur; rather, it is the state of powerlessness in hopeless situations that range from mundane to the fantastic. Despite the darkness of the situation, the stories have some glimmer of hope. Some are just harder to find.
Kuala Lumpur, in this book, is no longer a character, but a background. This book is not about the metropolis, but the individual characters that inhabit it. And the characters feel alive. Like I mentioned before, there are no stories here told for shock value. In fact, they are palpably more subdued, more…mature. A lot of the stories are quieter, less bang but more oomph. It’s like Malaysian English writers have leveled up, and this excites me. This excites me very much.
On to my individual review:
The Radio, by Lily Jamaludin
This simple, sweet story is about a young man who converses with his dead father via an old radio, a gift from his father. The message that the narrator, and the author, wants to get across is implicit, only implied, but never in a condescending manner. You can feel the narrator’s need to belong, to love, but the concept is beyond his reach. The ending is open, but you can tell that it is a beginning. A perfect story to kick off the anthology. (4/5)
A Night at Tulips, by Collin Yeoh
If you want to read a second-person narrated story, look no further. This is a second-person perspective done well, and done right. While the story becomes predictable at the 2/3 junction, the ending twists in a highly satisfying manner. Seriously, people can learn a lot about this particular form of storytelling from reading this story, because not many people can pull off second-person narration. (5/5)
Art, by Bissme S
There is something disturbing about the lack of emotions in this story. A highly traumatic event becomes something clinical, something artistic, and it follows the narrator to adulthood. The languid manner in which this story is told, or bersahaja, in my language, is sharply juxtaposed with the horror of the situation. You don’t really feel it when you read the story, but it haunts you several stories down the line, an aftertaste that you can’t quite shake off. (4/5)
City-Dwellers, by Muthusamy Pon Ramiah
This one is more of a slice of life rather than a complete story. There’s no proper conflict, climax, resolution and ending. But it does showcase the hopelessness of being poor in the city without resorting to contempt for the rich. It’s about a man who works hard and does his best to feed his large family, and above all else, tries to hang on to his integrity even when it’s the hardest thing to do. Like the previous story, this one doesn’t hit you when you read it, but Panjang Maniam lingers in your head. (4/5)
Tooth and Consequences, by Terence Toh
This is the only satirical piece in the anthology. It’s weird and over-the-top, and the cheeky puns are the author’s signature for those who know him. It’s a tongue-and-cheek story about an unlicensed dentist who learns her craft from YouTube (Malaysians sure remember this issue when it was all over the news), and gets hunted down by Malaysian Association of Dental Enforcers (MADE). It’s a fun read, a little break from the seriousness. (4/5)
Masquerade, by P Maheswary
This is another slice of life, where the entire story is the conflict. Reading this, I can’t help but be angry at how Wei Keong treats his aunt Fern, and how she keeps making excuses for his behavior. You know, it’s the kind of public domestic abuse that we see, perk our ears to listen in, and do nothing to stop. This story annoys me, because I hate Wei Keong. Also, you can just feel Fern’s hopelessness dip even deeper at the end of the story.
I hate Wei Keong. #saveFern (5/5. I still hate Wei Keong)
Jaga Diri, Jaga Hati, by Hong Jinghann
This is one of the few stories in this book that feature Kuala Lumpur as a character. That said, I feel like this story is a miss. The narrator, a restaurant owner, keeps referring his establishment as his mamak. And he keeps saying how this young lady that frequents his restaurant never ages, even though the story is told over the course of two years. There’s a reason why she doesn’t age, but…come on. Over two years? I feel like the setting has more character than the people here. Decent storytelling, but…it’s just not for me, I suppose. (2/5)
Pontianak, Risen, by Nadia Mikail
You may need to have a notebook ready to keep track of all the named characters in this one. It’s dizzying. And the story’s not even about a pontianak. Not that much, at any rate. I kinda know what the story is about, but I got lost in all the names, and I don’t feel like reading it again. (2/5)
Job(street), by Nat Kang
We’re back in business! I love reading this one. I love how it takes its time to be told without getting rushed. I think it’s about a bouncer living with HIV, because the condition is implied, and not expressed. The narrator returns to KL to look for the only job he’s good at, and you can actually feel his hopelessness, and his only drive is survival, not living. I like this one. (4/5)
Shucked, by Masami Mustaza
This one is almost satirical, but not quite. It’s about a group of women seeking revenge toward a conman, but since the police won’t do anything, they resort to a more mystical means. The story gets really dark really fast. (3/5)
Alexa, by Lee Chow Ping
I don’t think the choice of name is random. This story has traces of the kind of Malaysian storytelling that irks me (starts light and slow, and then careens darkly, with an open, ominous ending). The story’s predictable, so there’s no shock value, but the storytelling shows promise. (2.5/5)
Kisah Surya Buana: The Mystery of Seni Man, by Nazreen Abraham Stein
This story is Noir in every sense. From a disillusioned journalist to a damsel in distress, and a detective (and his driver—not his driver), to the dark sides of the city, and the supernatural, this story is CAMPY. It’s pulp fiction. It does get weird, with a 90-year-old bomoh who goes digital and a cat abducted by a flying saucer, it’s that kind of story that you just sit back, enjoy, and not try to make any sense of. Any sense whatsoever. Out the window. Campiness is fun, when done right. (4/5)
We Are Young, by Joshua Lim
Dude, this story is AWESOME. It captures the narrator’s sense of high to perfection. It makes me wonder if the author wrote this when he himself was high. Something to ponder. There’s no real conflict or structure in the traditional sense, but you ride the high along with the narrator. This is such a satisfying read. (5/5)
A Quiet Night, by Shaleen Surendra
This story reminds me of Gone, Girl and The Girl on the Train, sorta. Vaguely. It’s predictable, and could have been expanded more. It does capture the narrator’s state of mind quite well , though. (3.5/5)
Growing Up, by Sharmilla Ganesan
One word: disturbing. Remember when I said about stories that have evil dressed as holy men? Well this one doesn’t even need a mask. It’s a creepy uncle who grooms and subtly molests his niece in various stages of her life, and she’s somehow powerless to do anything about it. But like a true filial daughter/niece, the narrator maintains her respect for her elder throughout the story, and that’s what makes the story disturbing as hell. We read a lot of stories where in the end, the narrator kills her oppressor, or at the very least, cut off his balls, but this story reflects reality and that makes it even darker. She does make her stand, but in a quiet, realistic manner, making the story feel real and close to home. (5/5)
Driving Miss Devi, by Rizal Ramli
This is an Urban Fantasy featuring an aging taxi driver and a young, grieving mother. You don’t get this combination often, now do you? It’s campy. Hella campy. And I want more. I want to read Pak Kassim’s adventures while he seeks reconciliation with his children. And I want to read Devi’s adventures before she lost her family. I want to read more from this author. (4/5)
Haunted, by Lim Vin Tsen
This is a quiet little piece, one that gives brothel workers dignity, even after death. I love the storytelling, and despite being the shortest story in the anthology, the length is exactly how it is supposed to be. It’s like a much needed pause to breathe, where you don’t realize you’ve been holding your breath. (4/5)
War Dogs, by Derek Kho
This is the only piece in the anthology that addressed Covid-19. Well, one for the books, proof that the volume was published during the pandemic. I feel that this story is post-pandemic, some years down the line, where a cult has been formed in its wake. This is the closest you can find about corrupted Big Brother in this anthology. Another true Noir. I like the storytelling in this one, too. (4/5)
Dance of Kali – a Stormcaller Story, by Fadzlishah Johanabas
I’m not going to review my own work (it’s good). An Urban Fantasy that has angels and Hindu gods. Tell me what you think about it, and I may hand you a novel sometime in the future. MAYBE.
Dastar, by Sukhbir Cheema
I’ll be honest. I haven’t come across that many stories about Sikhs and how they question their faith. Yeah, yeah, I need to read wider. But because of that, this story enthralled me. I can feel the narrator’s rebellion, and his eventual return to his Faith even though he believes it’s too late. I experience him grasping at the faintest glimmer of hope. The way the story is told, the situation that every person who has a sister, a daughter, a niece is afraid of, the situation where every woman fears and lives through, is so vivid that I squirmed when I read the piece. And amazing, amazing story to conclude this volume. (5/5)
I wasn’t exaggerating when I said KL Noir: Magic is the best Malaysian English anthology I’ve read. The stories are well-written, and the selection is wonderfully curated by the editor, and to have over 200 submissions to choose from, it gives me hope. Hope that the Malaysian English writing scene will bloom and expand, and hope that the authors in this volume will come up with more pieces, be them short stories or novels.
I think Deric Ee has captured the essence of his intention for this volume. Despite the blackness of the stories and situations, one can’t help but grasp at hope.
A solid 5 stars from me.