Professional Documents
Culture Documents
April 2005
Introduction
This paper will examine new directions in Thai fiction at the beginning
of the twenty-first century, with a focus on the author Prabda Yoon.
About eight years ago, Thammasat University literature professor
Chusak Pattarakunvanit made the following remarks:
Thai fiction in the twentieth century was divided more or less between
the Literature of Social Preservation (conservative, moralistic, nostalgic for
traditional Thai culture, real and imagined), and the Literature of Social
Consciousness (socially liberal, politically progressive, impatient with the
pace of change). While there is considerable overlap in the work and the
attitudes of writers who represent these positions, almost without exception
Thai modern literature has met several basic criteria.
The work of some new writers, of whom Prabda Yoon is arguably the
most outstanding and popular, exemplifies all of the features of a new, post-
modern trend.
"Uthokphay nay duang ta" ("A flood in the eyes") was published, and he co-
wrote the screen play for Pen-ek Ratanaruang's film, "Last Life in the
Universe," which was released in Thailand and internationally in 2003, and
has received very positive and thoughtful reviews in the Western press. It is
this film that is perhaps the most accessible example of what may fairly be
called a post-modern trend in Thai literature, if we include screenplays.
Does Prabda's relatively privileged background, the length of his tenure
in New York, and his "globalized outlook" suggest a divide between young
elite writers such as himself, and less affluent young Thai writers who have
3 The SEAWrite Prize, awarded annually to rotating genres (poetry, short fiction,
etc.), is the leading "establishment" literary award in Thailand; the selection
committee is comprised of leading figures in the literary and academic
communities. It is criticized by writers representing the "literature of social
consciousness" faction, which awards some prizes of its own, but no one in that
faction has ever objected to being nominated for the SEAWrite Prize, or refused to
accept it.
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had no access to these things? Do some writers of his generation resent his
advantages, and the undeniably international perspective that underlies his
dazzling, sophisticated yet down to earth style? Indeed, they do. One
established Thai writer and admirer of Prabda's work told me, "If I were those
writers, I'd be jealous of him too."
Thais who are less than enthusiastic about Prabda's work include older
writers and readers who are simply perplexed by it. They don't think he
writes all that well. They usually say something like, "I don't 'get' these
stories, I don't see what's so good about them." Moreover, the tastes of
middle-aged and older reading public were shaped by the "consciousness
raising" literature of the 1970s, and stories of the kind Prabda writes do not
seem to have a "point." If he is supposed to be such a good writer, why can't
he write stories that have a point?
What is there to be "learned" from Prabda's fiction? Basically, the
reader learns about the world that Prabda has seen during his lifetime, and
how some people are living in this world that he has seen. Most authors
angrily deny that their work is autobiographical. But not Prabda. When I
suggested to him that one alternative to my translating his stories was for him
to translate them as first drafts, followed by a collaborative effort, editing and
refining the translations, he said that he could never do that, because the
stories were from his life, and it would be too painful to revisit them. Once
he has written them, he doesn't want to see them again.
Thais who went to study abroad twenty, thirty, or forty years ago went
and stayed, and rarely returned to Thailand until they had completed their
education. People like Sutichai Yoon, Prabda's father, lived either in the Thai
world, or in the Western world; and they were able to navigate in either quite
well. But it is very different, this globalized world in which their children
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live, a world that spans, includes, and homogenizes Berkeley and Bangkok,
Chicago and Chiang Mai. These young Thais play the same video games as
their contemporaries in the U.S., Hong Kong, Rio or Rome, they wear outfits
bought in New York but made in Thailand in Japanese factories; and their
world view is largely shaped by television and films. Which is not to suggest
that they have no interest in Thai issues, or ideas, including Thai pop culture.
They are quite likely to throw Thai singer Katlyea's best-selling new CD into
their carry-on bag, to listen to on the plane to Bangkok, or from it -- or the
new CD "Thaitanium Hip Hop" CD. This, from the eThaiCD website:
Thai Hip Hop pioneers where they take you where you've never
been before. October 16th, 2004, the day Thai Hip Hop stands up and
fights for the respect in the Thai music industry. Let it be known
they're here and they're to stay, Hip Hop Revolution. 4
Young Thais who do read Thai fiction (and it must be said that many
rarely or never do) like Prabda Yoon because he speaks to their condition.
He is a human being in the world, who happens to be Thai.
What are the features of this writer's work that exemplify a shift
to a post-modern sensibility? It evinces a markedly indifferent attitude
toward metanarratives in general, and cultural artifacts in particular.
He neither loves nor hates them. He plays with them. In the story,
"What Ought to Be," the narrator and hero (or, anti-hero) is a young
man who, having stumbled through a few early career failures
(particularly in art, Prabda lampooning his own initial career goals), is
now a successful creative director in a Bangkok advertising agency.
and notions of family values, but they are frequently mocked and subverted.
He remembers his relationship with his father, when he was a little boy.
Another story in this collection, less cynical and in fact quite tender,
takes place in Bangkok and in Alaska. A Thai woman has a son who, when
he was four years old, came to her bedside early one morning and solemnly
presented her with two handfuls of grass, saying, "Snow for you, Mother."
He has been doing this every morning since, and he is now in his thirties. She
patiently saves money, until at last she is able to buy two tickets to Fairbanks,
Alaska. The sight and the feel of real snow, she hopes desperately, will cure
him of his strange behavior. Standing on a frozen field in Alaska, bundled up
in his new parka, the son looks confused at first, then smiles, picks up snow
6 Ibid.
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in both of his mittens, and trudges toward her. "Snow for you, Mother," he
says, offering it to her.
It is a devastating moment, so final -- nothing will change, he will
always be a four year old boy who brings her handfuls of snow every
morning. Later, back home in Bangkok, reflecting on the great sacrifice she
had made on his behalf, she says to herself, "What a fortunate person is my
son, to have such a mother."
She has made her peace with reality. This could be interpreted as a
significant "Buddhist message" -- but really, there is no traditional message in
this story, of the kind that used to be required, in Thai fiction. Here is a
mother, here is a son, this is how their life is, in this world. We have
observed them for awhile, and now we are leaving.
Prabda co-wrote the screenplay for this very successful 2003 film, with
director Pen-ek Ratanaruang. It is readily available, with English subtitles.
This film meets all four of the criteria I have enumerated, describing the
characteristics of a post-modern position. The main male character is
Japanese, not Thai. The main female character is Thai. People in the movie
communicate in Thai, Japanese, and, most of the time, in the universal
language, English. They converse, they share, but they do not talk
specifically about how they feel about anything. The film is supremely
demonstrative, and visual, rather than didactic. Its only "purpose" is to give
us, the audience, two hours in which to observe the anomie, strangeness, and
confusion of the characters' lives. Like living chips in a cosmic kaleidoscope,
they drift, they rise, and they fall.
10
Thai
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Win Liawwarin. Sing mii chiiwit riak wa khon / สิ่งมีชีวติ เรียกว่าคน / Living things
that are called people. Bangkok: Double Nine Printing,1999.
English
Kepner, Susan F. Married to the Demon King: Sri Daoruang's Tales of the
Demon Folk. Chiang Mai: Silkworm Books, 2004. (Sri Daoruang
"played" with Ramayana characters, placing them ni contemporary
Bangkok, in seven short stories she called "tales of the demon folk."
These stories, reviled at first by Thai critics, who found them
"inappropriate" or "not real fiction," were precursors of the post-
modern trend in Thai fiction.)
Film