Sightseeing

Debut collection of short stories by hugely-promising Thai-American upstart

By James Skinner

Sightseeing is fantastic. Okay, there, I’ve said it. The debut collection from Thai-American Lapcharoensap (written in his early twenties), sees him take on a variety of narrative voices – young and old, male and female – culminating in seven beautifully written, profoundly moving tales set in a Thailand at odds with the one offered to us by the tourism industry.

The Thailand explored here is both vibrant and poverty-stricken; a depiction remarkably vivid and real. Yet, for all the praise this portrayal deserves, Lapcharoensap’s greatest strength lies in the nuances of the stories themselves, which, although situated in a particular culture, transcend this through their decidedly universal themes.

These are, principally: loss of innocence, bereavement and family ties. While this may sound a little gloomy, it is to Lapcharoensap’s great credit that his stories are infused with hope and humour, cinematic in description and strong in characterisation.

Opening tale Farangs (the Thai name for ‘tourists’) is an easy introduction, the story of a young Thai-American who works at his mother’s hotel on one of the country’s picturesque islands. Much to his mother’s dismay, he embarks on an ill-fated affair with Lizzie, an American guest (much as he has done many times previously), only for her to return to her braying, insufferable American boyfriend.

With a pet pig named Clint Eastwood, a skewed command of English and a habit of falling in love at the drop of a hat (“I knew it was love when Clint Eastwood sniffed her crotch earlier that morning”), our unnamed narrator of mixed descent makes for wonderful reading, and the interplay between him and his mother (abandoned by her US Army husband many years earlier) is a joy to behold: “Pussy and elephants, that’s all these people want,” she laments. Indeed, trying to take a bikini-clad Lizzie on an elephant ride is met with consternation by his uncle: “Need I remind you, boy, that the elephant is our national symbol? How would she like it if I came to her country and rode a bald eagle in my underwear, huh?”

As good as Farangs is, the remainder of this set more than matches it. Cockfighter closes the book, a novella-length story dealing with a father who gets on the wrong side of a local warlord, poignantly narrated by his younger daughter, and Don’t Let Me Die In This Place is ambitiously told from the viewpoint of an old, wheelchair-bound American relocated to Bangkok by his son who has married locally. Both are evocative, weary but uplifting. The touching title story is perhaps the centrepiece here though, where a mother and her son holiday in their home country (“we’ll be just like the tourists!”) as she gradually loses her vision.

Throughout this collection Lapcharoensap’s command of language and dialogue is admirable, belying his tender years. Perhaps the greatest compliment you could offer this book is how it lingers in the imagination long after putting it down, as the best fiction should. A wholly accomplished debut that suggests the arrival of a major new force in literature.