Hong Kong Writers Circle

Aneeta Sundararaj is a versatile and award-winning short story writer. To discover more, visit her websites: http://www.howtotellagreatstory.com & http://www.aneetasundararaj.com.

When I completed reading ‘Coming of Age’, I was reminded of something that happened when I was in legal practice. A colleague’s client was embroiled in a complicated adoption. What struck me about the whole matter was the foster father’s attitude. When he realised that the process wasn’t going to be as smooth flowing as he’d expected, he said, “If it’s so difficult, just return the baby.” Regarding a human being as a product which could be returned to the manufacturer aside, when the adoption went through, he added, “I didn’t want the baby before, but now that he’s mine, I want him.” Clearly, here was a man who hadn’t the power of discernment to understand that he was assuming the role of fatherhood, full of duties and responsibilities. It was forgivable, perhaps, had he been a young father. He was fifty-five years old. Henceforth, I had a greater awareness that a person’s age isn’t always a marker of maturity, sensibility, being ‘an adult’ or, having ‘come of age’. Indeed, the thirty-four stories in ‘Coming of Age’ reflect this.

Initially, though, the words ‘coming of age’ evoked a different thought because the words have a particular meaning in my part of the world. Meaning, when a girl comes of age, she has started menstruating and her child-bearing years have begun. I had a fleeting thought that this anthology would contain stories centred on this subject matter. Admittedly, I was relieved that it was confined to one story: ‘Becoming’ by Mimi Li. That said, this story remains a standout piece, not only because it spoke to this process in every girl’s life, but was well-paced. The author succeeded in maintaining the tension throughout the narrative and I never guessed, until the very last, what the story was about.

Another story which turned ‘normal’ on its head, and in the process showcasing superior writing skills, was ‘Responsibility’ by Simon Berry. Often, one would rattle off the ‘ages’ to legally do stuff: At sixteen, one can drive; at eighteen, one can get married; at twenty-one, one can drink; at twenty-five, one can adopt a child. Here’s what the author wrote in ‘Responsibility’:

At four, I stole sweets from WELLCOME and an auntie lost her position.

At nine, I watched Fifi, Mother’s miniature poodle learn to beg for treats. I wasn’t allowed treats because I wasn’t a beggar….

At thirteen, I watched porn in our home theatre with my school friends. Then, I wasn’t allowed friends….

At seventeen, I was schooled in the notion that I couldn’t be an adult until I took responsibility for my life,…

What’s striking about this anthology was that the writers appear to have been given permission to write in any genre or form. Indeed, as the editors, Julian Lyden and Jay Oatway, wrote in the Introduction, ‘From tightly focused reflections on friendships and family life, to the clash of pan-galactic civilisations, [the writers] scattered themselves across the full spectrum of genres and topics.’

Some of the themes highlighted in the stories were love, loss and struggle. The one which most recurred was betrayal. Some of the characters were teenagers full of angst and raging hormones; some were middle-aged reflecting on their teenage angst and raging hormones; some were siblings or friends considering the dynamics of their respective relationships; some were coming to terms with the realities of growing older; some were considering their mortality.

Stories like ‘The House Biji Built’ by Tav K Grewal spoke of a difficult time in the history of the Indian Sub-continent – Partition. ‘Spaghetti Life’ by Shivani Sarwal was a beautiful example of mixing time lines to let the story emerge. ‘Lost Frequencies’ by Will Chiu was a clever projection of what the future may hold for us all. ‘After the Storm’ by Julia Besnard was a model story about how seemingly identical events were viewed differently by two people resulting in a sad breakdown of a friendship.

The following are examples where the sentences practically sing:

First, from ‘The Unmatched Form’ by Jonathan Han: For such as we are made of, such we be. I hold the blade to much less than the pound of flesh, and in sheer bloodshed, come to find that I am not better a man, no worse a woman.

Second, from ‘A Desirable Spirit’ by Rinkoo Ramchandani: Years earlier, at the Scotsman bar, Sam had explained the oak ageing process of whiskey to me. The processed liquor was stored in barrels for decades, allowing it to mature, as it acquired characteristics from the wood that encased it, subtly shifting the overtones of the flavour to the undertones of the colour, until one day, it transformed into a ‘desirable spirit’. That’s how he phrased it.

Ultimately, an anthology like this circled back to the point I made at the start of this review – one could come of age at any stage in life, or not at all. It was not the case that on a particular day, when the hands of time turned from 11:59 pm to midnight, one came of age. One could, conceivably be labelled a ‘teenager,’ ‘adult,’ or even ‘pensioner’ during such precise times. As this anthology showed, however, one’s coming of age was something more: it was a gradual process which took time, patience and, in some cases, much mirth.