The main reason that I started reading this book was mainly because of a random internet search online that accidentally opened up a new personal horizon: fictions about Hong Kong in English. This is not the first time I read something written about Hong Kong. In my teenage years, the publication of Lost on a Red Minibus to Taipo (《那夜凌晨,我坐上了旺角開往大埔的紅VAN》) first introduced me to a literary landscape that lacked a centrifigural force, as Lost was originally written and posted on online forums as a form of internet literature. While its themes, alongside with my more recent reads about Hong Kong, pay more attention to the dicussion of Hong Kong's complicated relationship with China, Suzie for me is actually a refreshing read. It gives me a glimpse of pre-2014 Hong Kong more pertained to my impression as a Macanese: a former British colony reek of cosmopolitan ideals and values.
While the previous paragraph might seem like a conscious, deliberate breakaway from dicussing geopolitics in the area, Suzie is no less of a political novel itself. Mason creates a world that is hugely personal: a British painter who gains his way to success in British colonies (Malaya, Hong Kong) by illustrating the East (Hong Kong, Japan), who later lands a patronage in the U.S., and ultimately lives happily ever after with a Chinese bar girl who was domestically abused and uneducated. It is very difficult not to see problematic colonial ideologies seeping through the power dynamics between the characters. While the characters traverse the streets of Hong Kong, the main stage of the novel, I would say, is Nam Kok, a small hotel that is frequented by sailors and man-of-wars from America and Britain. Descriptions like this might be self-evident:
"...that oriental women had a femininity that Western women had lost—that they were dedicated to building up masculinity, whereas Western women were dedicated to its destruction."
"And it was largely due to her compliments that he had overcome his impotence. He had been in dread of her ridicule—but so far from making fun of him, she had congratulated him on the virility that she had felt certain was latent in him, and had even pretended to dread its release, since it would undoubtedly overpower a little Chinese girl like herself. Such suggestions had been like the touch of a magic wand. His strength had risen to meet them."
People who seek the company of bargirls are mostly presented as morally laxed individuals that yearn for commerical sex. The function of these Eatern bargirls, apparently, is to restore the masulinity of these foreign men. The way that the bargirl "congratulates" the man that ultimately brings his "strength" back is nothing but a sexual innuendo that lays bare the power dynamics between the Western man and Eatern woman. The Eastern woman has enchanting power like that of a "magic wand" - mysterious, enchanting, fantastical, etc. The Western men - notice the plural here - broken, powerless, demanding, even pathetic, look for pleasure and affirmation from these exotic partners. Rodney, the American playboy, openly seeks sexual companionship from Suzie (despite his jealousy due to a failure of getting Suzie's true attention). The American is presented as someone who is on a mission to sexually conquer the world:
"He had also been enabled to see for himself in the process of analysis that he must cultivate to the maximum the company of the opposite sex, and let no inhibitions deter him from finding normal and regular sexual outlet. He had thus prescribed for himself a world tour, whose therapeutic advantages would include the breaking of the mother-bond, and the provision of sexual stimulation in every possible shade of skin."
However, Robert Lomax, the narrator and the protagonist of the novel, acts more like a benevolent figure who brings hope to the Eastern woman:
"Her lack of education and her illiteracy were one of her greatest charms for me, and I would not for the world have had her otherwise. And so it was that suddenly, in the midst of this discussion about spiders, I thought: I am happier with Suzie than I have been with anybody before. I would like to marry her."
Such are the dynamics between the main characters of the novel. It is not necessary to restate the obvious with poco terminologies. What is truly interesting in this novel goes a little beyond the very basic analysis of how white men have their existence trodden over powerless and weak oriental women. The character of Suzie Wong provides enough nuances for fruitful dicussion. Working as a bargirl to support her baby, she demonstrates a high level of agency that allows her to transgress different boundaries:
"And I was momentarily seized by the fantastic notion that another miracle had occurred; that Suzie, who had wanted to love as a virgin, had had her innocence restored, that she now stood there in perfect purity, miraculously cleansed of her uncle’s rape and the contamination of her trade as the leper had been cleansed of disease."
"“I am going to England.” She glowed. “In three years’ time.” “Good Lord, Suzie! Are you really?” “Yes, my fortuneteller just told me. Ben will take me. He will divorce his wife in Hong Kong, then take me to England.”"
It would be reductive to directly criticise virgin-worshipping without seeing how Suzie plays her cards. From Robert's perspectives, Suzie's dignity possesses an enchanting power that washes her traumatic past away from her. Her self-proclamation as a virgin, interestingly, plays alongside with virgin-worshipping while deconstructing it simutaneously (she works as a bargirl). She places and re-places herself in that stereotypical Eatern women figure whose femininity is "dedicated to building up masculinity" not only to earn a living, but to pursuit something more critical to individuality ("going to England"). For Suzie, the chance of leaving Hong Kong should act as a forward and upward leap of social status. To do so, she needs the assistance of a powerful figure (given her socioeconomical background). In the earlier parts of the novel, Ben (another British man) serves as that critical character. In the later parts, however, Robert has become the one character on whom Suzie relies, as he brings her away from Nam Kok to different places (Japan, Britain). Yet, towards the end of the novel, we can see how the green-eyed monster has caught Robert too:
"For the slicker had moved round the table and was now seated beside Suzie. They looked very happy together, and Suzie’s face was radiant. I turned and went back to the bar. I had drunk two more double brandies before Suzie appeared. She came in looking flushed and excited."
Set in then Portuguese colony Macao (surprisingly, though the main function of it is still gambling). Robert loses himself to a young man they meet in a casino, whose gambling skills brighten Suzie up in the midst of a losing streak. The carefree Suzie undermines Robert's possessiveness as he finds himself not able to dispose of Suzie as he wishes. In this way, a rather dialectical relationship is established between them: they cannot exist properly without each other. Though still very underdeveloped, the current review should suffice to explain how Suzie works as a political novel not only on a geographical but a personal level too.