A Sino-Chinese family find their destiny is inseparably entangled with that of the country they have adopted as a home. Not long before the Communist revolution, Tong, sent by his peasant-parents in impoverished rural China to work with a relative in Siam, has risen to become a rice-trading tycoon in Bangkok's Chinatown, married a former palace cook and built a large family in the town of Pad Riew. Haunted by the dream of returning to his true home in China, Tong, along with his wife and their five children, are swept along by the torrents of history as World War II breakout and China turns red, while the military strongman in Thailand act out the interminable cycle of power struggle, rebellion and coup d'�tat. Memories of the Memories of the Black Rose Cat, the award-winning second novel by Veerapon Nitiprapha, is a generations-spanning family saga that explores the roots of the Chinese diaspora in Siam and how the tragedy of ruined love, maternal betrayal and futile ambition shape the lives of Tong's clan members, each of them hounded by their own ghosts and burdened by their own sins. All of this is played out against the backdrop of Siam's mid-century social and political history, the most chaotic period the formation of the nation.
Veeraporn Nitipraha started writing stories when she was a teenager. Born, raised and still residing in Bangkok, she used to work as an editor on a fashion magazine and as a copywriter for advertising agencies. These days, she is a mother to a young man, owner of four moody cats, and a devoted cook and gardener. A full-time writer, she also runs a writing shop. The title of her latest novel, published in Thai, roughly translates as "The Twilight Years and the Memory of a Memory of a Black Cat" - it won the S.E.A. Write Award in October 2018, making her the first female writer to win the award twice.
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.
This book is the English translation of Veeraporn Nitiprapha’s ความทรงจำแห่งอนาคต (Memories of the Future), which won the 2018 S.E.A. Write Award. The longer English title refers to the same award‑winning novel. It has also been shortlisted for the Chommanard International Women’s Literary Award, with the winner to be announced tomorrow, April 3, 2026.
A hauntingly lyrical novel that drifts between memory, myth, and melancholy. Veeraporn Nitiprapha’s prose feels like a dream you can’t quite wake from. The narrative is less about plot than atmosphere, weaving together fragments of love, loss, and longing with the enigmatic presence of the Black Rose Cat.
This is not a book for readers seeking straightforward storytelling; it rewards patience and immersion, asking you to surrender to its rhythm. At times, it feels like poetry disguised as prose, with images that linger long after the page is turned.
A challenging but deeply rewarding read, Memories of the Memories of the Black Rose Cat confirms Nitiprapha’s reputation as one of Thailand’s most distinctive literary voices.
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.
Spoiler-free thoughts: This is probably the first time that a book written in English made me feel this particular style of nostalgia. It rekindles a time when people lived with far fewer material comforts and yet experienced emotions more intensely—where a parting could mean a lifelong separation, and simple longings like returning to one’s homeland or being with a loved one were unattainable dreams.
Despite the book’s many tragic outcomes, I found it surprisingly life-affirming. There’s a heartbreaking beauty in these unfulfilled dreams.
This bittersweet blend of disappointment and love is why Memories of the Memories of the Black Rose Cat resonates so deeply. It captures life as it truly is—messy, painful, yet punctuated by moments of profound connection. Even when the characters suffer or fail to realize their dreams, their lives seem to hold meaning simply because they lived, loved, and yearned.
What I love about this book:
How real the characters are. The author didn't spend that much time describing exactly what each person is thinking or feeling, but just by describing the outlines, I was able to imagine the rest myself. It's not easy to have this many characters in one book, especially when each character can be considered the main character at different points of the book. I felt deeply for each character's fate.
What I didn’t like as much:
While the book’s magical surrealism elements added interest to the story, I found these magical aspects disorienting at first – I'm living the experiences of the characters, and then the ghosts and stuff come and undermine that trust in the story for me. This is not to say that every mention of surreal elements deterred me. The use of crows as bad omens, for example, was a cinematic way to foreshadow events.
[!!!Spoilers!!!]
One of my favorite moments in the book:
An anecdote about an old woman who sacrificed everything to care for a crippled son who isn’t even her biological son. She finds joy in her sacrifices because it means he will always remain by her side. For all the book’s bitterness and darkness, there is also warmth in these acts of love and selflessness.
On Asian familial dynamic:
I LOATHE Great Grandmother Sa-gniem. A mother who openly favored certain children while neglecting or and disregarding others. The harsh emotional realities of this family reminds me of the silent patterns that exist in many Asian families—where disappointments and resentments are rarely spoken of but also never forgotten. Decisions are often made with pragmatism, with little regard for personal happiness. I cynically think that many Asian families are merely a group of strangers bound together by obligation.