How We Disappeared: LONGLISTED FOR THE WOMEN'S PRIZE FOR FICTION 2020

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As with most Singaporeans, I learned what civilians went through during the Japanese Occupation as I was growing up, some of it from stories that my relatives told in hushed, yet bitter voices, some of it from programmes, fictional and otherwise, on TV. The “accepted narrative” is openly discussed in textbooks and in the national newspaper. Every year, there is a day of remembrance for people who died during the occupation, especially for those who were captured and tortured for being part of the resistance. These were heroes and victims of a sort that people recognised and could contend with. Yet it remains largely unspoken that the Japanese raped local women and abducted them during the occupation – this has to do with the dreadful stigma attached to sexual violence in most of Asia, even today. The fact that Singapore is a tiny country only magnifies this. Everyone on the island is connected in one way or another, with one or two degrees of separation. In the 40s and 50s, to let anyone know that you’re a rape victim was to expose yourself to shame and condemnation for the rest of your life. For research, I trawled through hours of audio interviews; whenever rape or abduction was mentioned, the interviewee always made a point to emphasise that it happened to someone else, someone outside of the immediate family – a neighbour, the friend of a sister-in-law, a stranger. Why do we read stories of unimaginable suffering? Why do we revisit the pain, heartache, and shame others experience in their darkest times? I found myself asking these questions as I read debut author Jing-Jing Lee’s novel How We Disappeared. The answer is always the same: to remember, to honor, and to validate those experiences. They happened. They were horrific and wrong. And they should never happen again. Wang Di determines to find out more about what befell The Old One in the war and what lead to his regular absences on a fixed day each February – something she is sure relates to the wartime fate of his first wife and wider family. Kevin’s grandmother gives what appears to be a garbled confession (mistaking Kevin for his father) – and which seems to relate to her finding of him as a baby.

Da questo punto di vista quindi Storia della nostra scomparsa di Jing-Jing Lee ha sicuramente il pregio di avermi fatto conoscere qualcosa che non sapevo. E lo stile dell’autrice è sicuramente delicato. Nonostante questo però mi è mancato qualcosa, a livello emotivo.I’ve read other books about this history - and any book that opens awareness to the importance of these atrocities- is a worthy read.

And then, after the horror during what was supposed to be her best years, how her mother's words, the shame foisted on her by herself, her family, and everyone around her, had dictated the silence that shadowed her every move after the war."On 15 February 1942, the island of Singapore in Southeast Asia surrendered to a Japanese invasion force. The Allied forces were twice the strength of the Japanese, but a badly organised and badly commanded defence condemned the people of Singapore to three and a half years of brutal occupation. Also in 2000, a 12-year-old boy named Kevin has just lost his grandmother, with whom he was very close. Just before she died, she discloses a long-held secret, one that will change his family’s life. The reader knows that the two stories will come together, but they do so in an unpredictable way. This beautiful heart-breaking debut is multi-narrated around two timelines and centers around Japan’s atrocities during their occupation of Singapore during WWll, and modern day when a 12yr old learns of his grandmother’s hidden secret. The narrative switches between Wang Di during the War , Wang-Di ‘s present life and Kevin and his quest for answers. The story continues in the present day when Kevin and Wang Di’s worlds converge and the revelations that are unearthed unravel a connection long thought to be lost which enable Wang Di and Kevin’s family to reconcile with their past and present traumas. Le donne sono le protagoniste di questo libro. Corpi abusati, maltrattati, come bambole rotte. Vuoti.

Bullied, nerdish Singaporean Chinese schoolboy Kevin starts a personal research project to try to make sense of the mutterings of his dying grandmother. His chain of discoveries leads him to revelations that he would never have imagined, and to facts about his family that even his parents did not know. In a parallel narrative, starting in 1942, a teenaged girl called Wang Di is carried off by Japanese soldiers from her home village and put to work as a “comfort woman” in an official military brothel.

If you are interested in books about WWII or books about Asian history, I think you will probably enjoy this more than I did. But unless you're really interested in these subjects, I don't think the novel has enough substance to really stand on its own and appeal to people who are strangers to the historical fiction genre and are looking for something light and titillating to read. So much SHAME and poverty in the book, that really stood out for me. I now want to find out more about this period. I absolutely adore the characters. Wang Di’s resilience, Kevin’s determination and resourcefulness, Soon Wei’s love and care for his wife, and nothing but love for the rest of the characters. I think there’s chemistry between all the characters and the personalities given really work for each of the character. In the year 2000, twelve-year-old Kevin is sitting beside his ailing grandmother when he overhears a mumbled confession. He sets out to discover the truth, wherever it might lead, setting in motion a chain of events he never could have foreseen. Every character in this story has a unique voice and journey of their own and Jing-Jing Lee develops each of them precisely and brilliantly.