We do not choose our families, nor do we have the choice to sever ourselves from the legacies and burdens of our ancestors. The alliances that we form upon birth are purely by accident too – we spend our entire childhoods in this cocoon and it is only the wisdom and daring of adulthood that lets us see the merits of forging associations that are to our benefit. But for some, this awakening happens too late or sometimes, there simply aren’t enough opportunities to save yourself.
Two sisters
Singaporean writer Malcom Seah’s debut novel, Swimming Lessons, is an earnest account of those who are left behind. Ten-year-old Michelle’s world comprises her 15-year-old sister Meredith, Mother, and Father (who is all set to abandon his family). In the beginning, we learn something is wrong with Meredith and that Mother and Father have been lashing out at each other more often than they used to. Like the young Michelle, we get snippets of the disharmony in the family that we try to piece together in one comprehensive story.
The plot swings back and forth in time but what stays constant is Michelle and Meredith’s love for each other – as the family crumbles, the two stick together like an inseparable unit. Meredith makes it clear to Michelle that they only have each other; Mother and Father are caught up in their own drama and despite their promises of remaining a family, their lives are about to change. Irrevocably.
Michelle, who’ll follow Meredith to the end of the world, is more than bonded to her sister. They almost haunt each other. In the absence of reliable parental figures, Michelle is entirely dependent on Meredith to show her the ropes of life. This includes swimming lessons. For a family that lives by the sea, this is essential, and it becomes the duty of the older sister to keep the younger one alive. However, things take a turn for the worse when Meredith suddenly falls sick. She clings on to life, defying all expectations but there is no chance that she’ll go back to how she used to be. Meredith is preparing to leave without a goodbye; she’s often silent, and there are only memories of better times to see her through.
The burden of love
Growing pains soon come for Michelle. She’s angry at her parents for separating. Father seems to be forgetting them and Mother is honestly the most orthodox person she can think of. When she jokes about wanting to marry a woman, her mother chides her for being so callous. Doesn’t she know homosexuality is illegal in Singapore? As if the laws weren’t regressive enough, to make matters worse, her mother agrees that homosexuality is just “wrong”. But there is a way to fix it – by praying, and shock treatments are becoming popular too. Michelle is too dejected to accept her truth and the boy she believes she’s in love with betrays her trust too.
Michelle is caught in the liminal space between presence and absence, and she takes it upon herself to bring her sister back to life. She’s growing up, yes, but the shadow of her childhood towers over the present. Whatever she remembers of those days, the good and the bad, chokes her with grief. Meredith still owes her swimming lessons – Michelle is at the deep end and all she can hope for is to hold her breath and pray that her head stays above the water.
This is as much a novel about grief as it is about the burden of love. Not only Meredith, grief and love are how Michelle is bound to Mother too. She is saddened that she cannot tell Mother her truth – being punished for it almost feels like luxury, at least, Mother would know the real her. How would she reconcile with or love Mother again till the truth makes itself known? Seah considers the suffocating weight of familial expectations on young people, especially in Asian families where there is simply no room for deviating from the “normal”.
At 24, Seah’s writing is quite confident. Consider this, for example, “There must be some symbolism in three women living together, all in different places of their lives. In a way, we’re all still connected by the nuance of our blood. It’s not advisable to build an apiary on three pillars instead of four. Eventually, everything collapses.” While mostly he’s charming and restrained, there were times his writing was too ornate for my liking. For instance, at one point, he writes, “Clear as day, dark as dusk.” As a writer with a flair for drama, he should have picked the second clause: “dark as dusk”.
There’s also a subplot featuring Michael and a particular constable, Ishaan Chakrabarti – I didn’t care much for it. There are some elements of the supernatural too, which left me somewhat clueless. Minor complaints aside, Swimming Lessons is extremely readable once you sink your teeth into it. For me, Seah’s novel can be summed up in three words: Heart, hope, liberation.
Also, the many Indian names and references to Indian customs were a pleasant surprise in a Singaporean book.
Swimming Lessons, Malcom Seah, Penguin Southeast Asia.
