Department of History, National University of Singapore

Burma through the Prism of Western Novels

Author(s): Josef Silverstein
Source: Journal of Southeast Asian Studies, Vol. 16, No. 1 (Mar., 1985), pp. 129-140
Published by: Cambridge University Press on behalf of Department of History, National University
of Singapore
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Burma
through
the Prism of Western Novels
JOSEF SILVERSTEIN
"If
you
want to write a real Burmese
story",
U Nu once told an
audience of Burmese
writers, you
"must know the real Burmese
background".
It is advice that
applies
to
foreign
as well as
indigenous
writers
and,
in most
cases,
non-Burmese writers have
followed it. The recommendation is
important
because fiction
provides
a
popular entry
way
for the
"average"
reader to reach
beyond
his normal
range
of
knowledge
and
imagination;
it is more
likely
that he will have read a novel or short
story
rather than a
history
or a
scholarly
work and it is from this source that he will have formed his ideas
and
adopted
his
stereotypes.
Thus,
it is
necessary
that the available literature is
good,
that it is accurate in its
descriptions
of the locale and the behaviour of the
people,
that
it catches the nuance of local
speech
and
expression,
that it reflects the
psychology
of
the
subjects
when it discusses them rather than
imputing
alien
speech,
values,
and
attitudes.
Burma's Western
interpreters
have,
in the
main,
tried to
present
accurate
descriptions
and true
representations
of the
people
and the
country.
Most of the writers have
lived in Burma for a
period
of time and have travelled
fairly widely
in the
countryside.
Although
the stories that
they
tell are more
likely
to interest non-Burmese audiences
than local
ones, nevertheless,
their observations and
descriptions together
with their
presentation
of local conditions and the
problems
of
change
contain rich
insights
from
which all
?
indigenous
and alien alike?can benefit.
Any survey
of this
genre
of Burmese fiction will reveal that the
subject
matter and
themes that interest most non-Burmese writers are the
problems
of the Westerner
?
and in one
case,
the
Japanese
?
in a
strange
and distant land.
They
focus more on
how the non-Burmese survive and remain untainted
by
their alien environment than
they
do on how Westerners
adapt
to new circumstances and
develop
new and broader
perspectives.
In most
respects
their novels
depict
the clash of cultures with neither
group
really being
affected
by
the other. A few
writers,
especially
those with
missionary
backgrounds, emphasized
the
triumph
of Western culture and Christian values. The
great
event for most who have written about Burma in the last
thirty years
was World
War II and how
Europeans, trapped
in
Burma,
or
Japanese,
left after the war's
end,
either
escaped capture
or
responded
to the
victory
of the Allies.
Few,
if
any,
have
attempted
to write about
independent
Burma and the
problems
its
people
faced from
civil
war,
military
rule,
and isolation in a world
growing
closer
through
travel and
communications.
American writers have shown a
particular
interest in the
minority peoples
of
Burma,
especially
the Karens and the Kachins. Some of this interest stems from the fact that the
writers were
Baptist
missionaries who lived and worked
amongst
the Karens while
others were American
Special
Forces who
fought alongside
the Kachins in the war.
Here,
the writers either treat the minorities as
primitive peoples benefitting
from
129
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130
Josef
Silver stein
conversion to
Christianity
or as noble
savages
from whom modern Western man can
recover the eternal truths about himself and his
relationship
to nature.
Only
a few Western novelists have tried to write historical novels in which the
subject
matter is
exclusively
Burman. Part of the reason for this is that the writers are not
Burmese scholars and most are unfamiliar with the
language
and local literature. The
few
attempts
that were successful were so because their authors either had the
necessary
knowledge
or
they
had
access to a
body
of documents that allowed them to reconstruct
history
in a fictional form and tell a Burmese and not a Western
story.
With the
exception
of the historical
novels,
Western writers have not
placed
Burman
heroes at the center of their stories.
When,
on
occasion,
a
Burman is offered as a
major
figure
in the
narrative,
he is not
typical. Usually,
he is a member of the
?lite,
has had a
Western
education,
speaks English fluently
and
may
have lived
part
of his life in
Europe.
Thus,
he is able to fit
easily
into a
European
environment and be absorbed
by
it rather
than
move the
story
into a Burmese arena.
Also,
one finds that where a
non-European
is an
important
character he
usually
is
an
Anglo-Burman
or
Anglo-Indian
and is a
bridge
between East and West. A second characteristic of this
body
of fiction is that the
story
is
placed
in a rural rather than an urban
setting.
This allows the writer to
give long
and
detailed
descriptions
of the
country
and the
people
and to
provide
a context for the clash
of cultures as the
tiny
"island" of
Europeans struggle
to create what
they
believe to be a
corner of
England
in the colonial
outpost. Burma,
in the
main,
is
background
and
many
of the
plots
and characters could
just
as
easily
fit into the Indian or
Malay
scene.
For all
practical purposes,
the end of colonial rule in Burma
brought
an end to
Western writers
using
the nation as a locus for their stories or its
people
and their
problems
as their
subject
matter. There are a number of reasons for this: the war and
independence
saw the end of a
permanent expatriate population
from which so
many
of the earlier writers were
spawned;
the nation
discouraged foreigners
from
coming
through
limitations on both visits and
residence; few, except
scholars and
diplomats,
knew
enough
about the
country
to
say
more than what could be
gleaned
from
past
works
of literature or travel
books,
which in the main were drawn from limited
secondary
sources;
there were too
many
other
places
in the world to write about where one did not
have to know the
language,
customs,
or the
people
from
personal experience.
If new
novels
are not
being
written
by
non-Burmese
writers,
there at least is a
corpus
of old
ones which are useful for what
they
have to
say
about the
country,
its
people
and the
Westerners who lived
amongst them;
at least two still are
widely
read and
help shape
attitudes and values of readers toward Burma and its
people.
In answer to U
Nu,
the
Burmese
backgrounds
are real even if the novels do not
always
tell real Burmese stories.
There
are four
major
themes which unite the novels of Burma: colonial rule and
its
impact
on
Europeans
and Burmese
alike;
religion
and the clash of
culture; war,
especially
World War
II;
and Burmese
history
at moments of
great change.
Probably
the best known work on Burma is
George
Orwell's Burmese
Days.
In
it,
the
author
provides
his reader with
a
damning
indictment of
imperialism
as a
corrupting
influence
on the
Europeans
who serve it. Shrouded in the
myth
of the "white man's
burden",
they
claim the
right
to rule and
special privilege.Yet,
beneath the
mantle, they
are
ordinary Englishmen,
no better or worse than their
countrymen
who remain at
home.
However,
once
they
arrive in the
colonies, they change
and Orwell sees such
banal characteristics as
pretentiousness
and
arguing, scheming
and boredom as the
elements of colonial life that transform these otherwise
ordinary
individuals into
unpleasant,
and in some
cases,
dangerous sojourners
in a
foreign
land.
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Burma
through
Western Novels 131
Orwell draws the reader's attention to the fact that in
Burma,
as elsewhere in the
East,
the club is the center of
European
life. It
represents
an exclusive world where
entry
depends upon
one's skin
colour, race,
nationality,
and
position
in the
ruling
?lite.
Despite
efforts of liberal
administrators,
located at
great
distances in the
capital
cities,
to
open
these clubs to
"natives",
the denizens scheme to remain
exclusive,
believing
that
any
crack in the wall of their closed
society
would create a flood and
they
would be lost in a
sea of local
people.
At the root of their
reactionary
stance was their belief that
change
would diminish their material standard of
living
to a level
probably
no better than if
they
had remained in
England
and it would
destroy
their
pr?tentions
as members of a
ruling
class.
Other novelists who have written of Burma have examined the club and its
members,
but no one has been as harsh as Orwell. Maurice
Collis,
who is better known for his
histories and
biography,
than for his
fiction,
presents
a less
damning
view in Sanda
Mala;
but he too finds
very
little that is
redeeming
in it or its members.
Here,
as in Burmese
Days, Europeans gather
to
drink,
gossip,
and
plot against
all outsiders.
Although
the
period
about which Collis
writes,
the
early 1920s,
is more
pacific
than the next
decade,
the focus of Orwell's
novel, nevertheless,
the
behaviour, values,
and attitudes of the
members is
nearly
the same. In Sanda
Mala,
the
Europeans expect
the
government's
representative
to
uphold
them even when
they
have cheated their
indigenous
business
rivals. When officials do
not,
the club members are
prepared
to
appeal
to
high quarters
in order to
triumph
or
plot
the downfall of all who stand in their
way.
If the club is the locus of
action,
it is the members who tell and act out the
story
of the
corruption
of colonial rule. Orwell created a number of
stereotypes
that successive
authors used. There is the District Commissioner and
Inspector
of Police who are
there to maintain law and order. While
they
are
expected
to deal
even-handedly
with
Europeans
and natives
alike,
as
representatives
of a
paternalistic government,
their
sympathies
are with the
expatriates
who
represent
British business
?
timber
extraction,
mining,
rice
milling,
etc. It is
amongst
the latter that the reader finds the clearest
examples
of racists and defenders of
privilege.
It also is
amongst
the latter that one finds
the
outsider,
the individual who
rejects
the
system
and even
fights
to
change
it. Orwell's
hero,
Flory, employed
in timber
extraction,
hates himself for
sharing
the false
lifestyle
of British
society
in
Burma;
yet,
he is too weak to abandon it or
fight permanently
against
it in order to force
change. Flory,
unlike his fellow
countrymen,
finds and
appreciates
the natural
beauty
of the
country
and the charm of
many aspects
of its culture.
To
bridge
the
dichotomy
between the
lifestyle
he dislikes and the
country
he
loves,
he finds
friendship
in an
Indian
doctor,
solace in
drink,
and
pleasure
in the charms of his
Burmese mistress. He has the
potential
for
leadership
and demonstrates it when the club
is under
physical
attack,
but when he must face his fellow club members and seek their
approval
for the
membership
of his
friend, Veraswami,
the Indian
doctor,
he fails. In the
end the
conflicting
forces and treacherous
plotting
of his mistress and a
Burmese
magistrate
overwhelm and
destroy
him and he finds
escape
in suicide.
In other novels of
Burma,
there are
many
variations of
Flory. Patterson,
in H.E.
Bates,
The Jacaranda
Tree,
is a
stronger individual; he, too,
is
part
of the commercial
establishment and like
Flory,
is involved in timber. Unlike
Flory,
he finds both
pleasure
and love with his Burmese mistress and does
nothing
to hide his
relationship
with her
from the others.
Also,
unlike
Flory,
he
rejects
the club and lives outside its walls and its
rules.
Patterson,
like
Flory,
rises to the
challenge
of
danger
?
this time from the war
?
by organizing
and
leading
the
Europeans
out of Burma as the
Japanese
advance.
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132
Josef
Silver stein
In Cecilie Leslie's The Golden
Stairs,
a third variation of
Flory
is reflected in the
character of Hamish. This
time,
the unorthodox and nonconformer to the club ethic is
the
Superintendent
of Police.
He,
unlike
Flory
or
Patterson,
is
obliged
to follow orders
from above and
carry
them out with
impartiality.
However,
when he sees the contradic
tion between the
commands,
which were issued from
afar,
and the realities
on the
spot,
he
too,
rises to the
challenge
of war and does what he thinks is
right
and
good regardless
of the rules and orders.
Against
these
opponents
of the
system
stand the defenders and
perpetuators.
In
Burmese
Days,
it is Elizabeth Lackersteen. She came to Burma
mainly
because her
chances for
marriage
and social advancement were
poor
or nonexistent. In the male
dominated
society
of the
club,
her faded
beauty
is revived and she is
sought
after
by
the
lonely
men of rank or
position.
For
Orwell,
she
represents
the
tragedy
of the colonial
system
?
the
never-ending
stream of new recruits who
accept
its rules and
keep
it
alive. In The Golden
Stairs,
Monica
Wadley
is the
counterpart
to Elizabeth.
She, too,
comes from mean circumstances in
England
and sets her
goal
on
succeeding
in the new
opportunity
that Burma offers. Monica is older than Elizabeth and is more determined
in her
quest.
She, too,
is faced with a
greater challenge
?
the
collapse
of
empire
and the
irregular flight
of the
ill-prepared Europeans
from the
advancing Japanese.
One is
unlikely
to read a more
devastating critique
of this
type
than in the author's account of
the unreal life at the hill-station in
Maymyo
where its
emptiness
and
pretentiousness
are
starkly
drawn and
vividly portrayed against
the
background
of the
retreating
British
army
and the
disintegration
of
empire.
Bates introduces
a third variation of Elizabeth in The Jacaranda Tree. Connie
McNair,
like the other
two,
came to Burma to find a better
life,
but unlike Elizabeth
or
Monica,
she is dominated
by
her mother and therefore cannot realize her own
potential
until it is
too late. The
savage
death of her mother
brings
freedom but not
marriage
because illness
and death overtake her before she can blossom.
It is
through
the characters and the club that the reader learns that it is the
European
and not the Burmese who are
corrupted by
the
political system
and that the
Burmese,
in their
isolation,
remain
relatively
untouched
by
it.
By concentrating
on hinterland
rather than the
city,
the authors fail to
explore
the direct
impact
of the colonial
system
on the local
people
who must serve it. How it alters and arouses them and the
impact
it
leaves on their lives and
thought
is an area
unfortunately
none of the Western writers
explore
or even consider.
If the novel is to be the source of one's
knowledge
of the Burmese and their
culture,
the several that have been
published
offer a
variety
of views. In Burmese
Days,
Orwell
looks
closely
at
particular
Burmans and finds
very
little to
say
about them that is
positive.
Of the four he
presents
in
detail,
Po Khin
?
the
magistrate
?
is the villain who not
only
understands the colonial
system
and its weaknesses but is able to
manipulate
it and its
servants,
European
and native
alike,
to achieve
promotion,
wealth,
and
membership
in
the club.
By focusing
on the
thought
and action of Po
Khin,
Orwell
presents
a harsh
picture
of Buddhism
as an
opportunistic
faith that one can use for one's own ends.
Po Khin
piles
one evil deed
upon
another
as he
acquires
power
and
position
with the
clear intention of
using
his
ill-gotten gains
to make
religious
merit in his
declining years.
Even
though
he fails to achieve his
ends,
the
negative impression
of Buddhism remains.
Ma Hla
May, Flory's
mistress,
is the classic
example,
in
any culture,
of the woman
scorned who
gets revenge.
Ma
Khin,
Po Khin's
wife,
on the other
hand,
believes in her
faith and worries about her husband's fate because she is aware of all of his evil deeds.
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Burma
through
Western Novels 133
Finally,
there is
Maung
San
Hla,
or as he is
called,
Ko S'la. As
Flory's
manservant he is
wily, pragmatic,
amoral,
and devoted to his
employer.
Given the situation where
Flory
is
away
a
good
deal of the time
and,
when he is
home,
his lack of interest in his house
hold,
his
drunken-state,
and his
long
association with Ko
S'la,
the manservant is allowed
to act in
ways
that are more universal than
Burmese,
and one should not
generalize
Burmese
behaviour, culture,
or values from the
things
he does or
says. Although
Orwell
presents,
in
general,
a
positive
and accurate
picture
of some
aspects
of Burmese
life,
the
overall
impression
of the faith and the
people
is
very negative.
An
opposite
view of the
Burman,
his
religion
and
society,
is offered in Ethel Mannin's
The
Living
Lotus. Here Burman
society
in rural
upper
Burma is described in
loving
detail. The
people
are shown
realistically
with
warmth,
jealousy,
and
treachery being
as
much a
part
of their lives as one finds in
any
other culture. Buddhism and its rituals are
described with care and
understanding.
The
people
who
emerge?the
heroine
Mala,
an
Anglo-Burman girl
who is raised
by
a Burman
family during
the war
years,
Ma Hla
her foster
sister,
and others
?
are shown in a traditional
setting
that is detailed and
believable. The author makes
many digressions
in order to
explain aspects
of the faith
and
ritual,
which would do credit to an
anthropologist
or
sociologist.
Mannin also
provides
a clear
picture
of the clash of cultures as the heroine is seen
first,
in her
early
years, living
in a home where the cultures of her
parents
are in
conflict; then,
through
an
accident of
war,
she is
brought
to a Burman
village
and raised
by
her
adopted family
as one
of their own.
Finally, through
a
trick,
she is taken to
England
and there her father tries
to
supplant
her Buddhism with
Christianity.
In the end she chooses to
give up
her
English heritage
and return to Burma and the husband and
family
she left. In this
novel,
the reader is
challenged
to consider the Buddhist faith as
practised by genuine
believers
against
the Christian faith and its misuse
by
those who
represent
it. A careful
reading
of
this book will not
only provide
entertainment but a
great
deal of information about the
Burman
people
and their culture.
The theme of
mixing
cultures is
repeated
in several of the novels of Burma. In Sanda
Mala,
Nat Shin
Me,
the
heroine,
is the
daughter
of a Burman
prince
and a Shan
princess
who has been educated in the West.
Although
betroth to a
Burman,
she is
unhappy
with
the man her
parents
have chosen.
Thus,
when the
hero,
Mangin,
arrives from
England
to
paint
the
portraits
of her
parents,
she acts first as a
bridge
between her
parents
and
him
and,
gradually,
falls in love. Her
mother,
Sanda
Mala,
not
only approves
but
manipulates
events so
that,
in the
end,
her
daughter
is able to
marry Mangin.
Her
father,
who
speaks
no
English,
remains in the
background.
While the author
gives
details of his
life and
personality,
the father never
emerges
as a central
figure
in the
way
his
English
educated
daughter
and
worldly
wife do.
A less make-believe version of the
European-Burmese
union is found in The Golden
Stairs,
where Tom
McNeil,
a
forestry
officer and Hla
Gale,
a
wealthy
Burman woman
are married and their
son, Ken,
is raised first as a Burman Buddhist and then sent off to
school in
England only
to return to his
family
as war
envelops
Burma. He
represents
the
ambivalence and confusion of the
person
of two cultures in a
period
of
change.
Ne vil
Shute
presents
the
problem slightly differently
in The
Chequer
Board.
There,
the
European
is at best an
agnostic;
the author allows the British
airman,
through living
with
a Burman
family
and
falling
in love with one of its
members,
to be drawn into Burmese
life and to understand and
respect
it.
Here, too,
the reader is
given
some fine detail of
the faith and its
place
in Burmese life.
There is one other non-Burman
tragic type
to be found in the environment of the
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134
Josef
Silver stein
Burma
outpost,
the Indian and the
Anglo-Indian. Again,
it is Orwell who draws a bitter
picture
of
Veraswami,
the doctor
living
on the
edge
of the
European
enclave and
Burmese
society,
without
membership
in either. He
represents
the Asian who succeeds
in
mastering
Western science
by becoming
a doctor and is convinced of the
superiority
of Western culture and literature. He is like those
nineteenth-century
Indians who
manned the ranks of the infant Indian
Congress Party
and saw the West as
superior
to the
East. Veraswami's
tragedy
is that his skin colour and race bar his
entry
into the "sacred"
club while at the same time he is
rejected by
the local
population amongst
whom he lives.
In The Jacaranda Tree the author
provides
the reader with an
Anglo-Indian
nurse,
Miss
Allison,
who while
accepted nominally by
the
European community
never
really
feels a
part
of it.
Initially,
she
joins
with the small band of
Europeans
as
they
seek to
escape
to India. But as the caravan moves
forward,
she realizes that she is not a
part
of
the
European group
and India is not her home. She deserts the
group
and
disappears
amongst
the local
population,
who are left behind. The author
gives
no
clue whether or
not she is successful either in
surviving
or
being accepted by
the
people.
The
Anglo
Indian,
like the
Indian,
was never
accepted by
the Burmese and when
independence
came to
Burma,
in
1948, many
in both communities left the
country
either for
England
or India. Those who remained behind either tried to
submerge
themselves into Burmese
society
or resolved to remain
permanent
outsiders and retained their
identity
and their
culture.
For most of the authors who wrote of the
war,
heroism and
tragedy
were the twin
themes
they repeated
most often. Bates wrote two novels about Burma in World War
II,
The Jacaranda Tree and The
Purple
Plain. In the
former,
he dwells
upon
the character
of
Patterson,
the
hero,
who rises to the
challenges
the war
presented
and
triumphs
because of his
good
common
sense,
personal courage,
and an
unswerving
devotion to
the
goal
of
escape.
In the
end,
he achieves his
goal
while those who desert his
leadership
meet
tragic
ends. In The
Purple
Plain,
Bates created a
counterpart
to Patterson in
Squadron
Leader
Forrester,
whose
plane
crashes and who assumes the
leadership
of the
survivors;
against impossible
odds,
he leads them to
safety.
Heroism is so central to the
novel that it could have been located
anywhere
as the
setting,
the
people,
and the
country
are
only
incidental to the
story.
Even the Burmese
village,
where Forrester finds
love,
is a Christian
village
and, therefore,
is
very atypical
of Burma.
One of the best and least well-known stories of the war in Burma is The Golden Stairs.
Again,
the central theme is
escape
from the
Japanese.
A
group
of
Europeans,
Indians,
and
Anglo-Burmans
encounter a
variety
of
dangers
as
they pass through
the heart
of Burma to the
deadly Hukong Valley
to reach
safely
in India. The author writes
accurately
and
sensitively
of the
country
and its
people
as the
Europeans
and their
retainers make their
way
out of the
country.
In
choosing
to focus on
the last
leg
of the
escape,
the author is able to
give
a vivid
feeling
of the remote areas of northern Burma
where few Westerners have been. The "Golden Stairs" is the final test for the evacuees
as
they
descend
through
a
quagmire,
which the rains have made of the thousand
steps
of
clay
that divides this area of Burma from India. The book
provides
vivid and accurate
descriptions
of the human
struggle along
this route because the author relied
upon
diaries
and interviews with evacuees as the main sources of her information. The
story
of the
exodus allows her to introduce actual historical events and characters. It also
permits
her
to introduce a new character not found in the other literature of Burma. Daw Hal
Palai,
the sister of Hla Gale and the aunt of
Ken,
is the
bridge
between the Nationalists of the
1930s and the Burmese revolutionaries of the war
period.
She is
represented
as
having
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Burma
through
Western Novels 135
been a follower of
Saya
San in the futile revolt in the
early
1930s and a
supporter
of the
Burmans who saw the war as a means of
achieving
the nation's
independence.
The
presence
of the Nationalists and Daw Hal Palai
provides
one set of
pulls upon young Ken,
which are counterbalanced
by
those exerted
by
Monica
Wadley,
Ken's
father,
and the
other Christian
Europeans. Again,
the clash of cultures creates the tensions within the
characters and
gives depth
and
meaning
to the
story.
If Bates and Leslie were concerned with the war's effect on the
Europeans,
there is an
important
novel about its
impact
on the
Japanese.
Michio
Takeyama's Harp of Burma,
is
truly unique.
It was written
by
a man who never visited
nor,
before he wrote the
novel,
studied Burma.
Nevertheless,
he
produced
an
exceedingly
accurate
picture
ofthat land.
More
important,
he
gives
rich
insights
to the
meaning
of Buddhism.to the
people
of
Burma. He wrote his
story
from the information he
gleaned
from the soldiers who were
repatriated
from Burma. It is directed at the
Japanese
who,
in the first
years
after the
war's
end,
were
trying
to understand
it,
their
defeat,
and themselves.
Like the novels about the British in
Burma,
Harp of
Burma is about the
Japanese
in
Burma at the war's end.
Throughout
the earlier
days
of
combat,
a
company
of soldiers
were
inspired by
one
among them,
Corporal
Mizushima,
who led them in
song through
the
accompaniment
of a Burmese
harp,
which he had
taught
himself to
play.
When the
war ended and his
company surrendered,
he
escaped,
and
having
donned the
yellow
robe of the local Burmese monks he
gradually
learned its
meaning
and found his
life's mission
?
to find and
bury
the bodies of the fallen
Japanese
?
and
gives up
the
opportunity
of
returning
to his homeland.
Unlike the
Europeans writing
about themselves in the environment of
Burma,
but
really
untouched
by it, Takeyama
looks at Burma's
impact upon
the
Japanese
who went
there as soldiers and
stayed long enough
to be affected
by
their
experiences
with
Burmese culture. One
gets
to know rural Burma and its
people through Japanese eyes
and
especially gains
a
positive
view of Burmese Buddhism. Unlike
Orwell,
Takeyama
does not see Burmese character
differing
from Buddhist
teachings.
The
question
he asks
at the end is a universal one: cannot
everyone
learn from the Burmese and recover a bit
of their humanness from their material and scientific
preoccupations?
It is a
question
neither Orwell nor
any
other writer about Burma ventured to ask.
Patrick Cruttwell
provides
a different kind of war novel and
insight
to Burmese life.
In A Kind
of Fighting,
his
hero,
Lin
Soe,
is a
thinly disguised
version of Burma's national
hero,
Aung
San. If read
only
as a novel about the war's
impact upon Burma,
it
provides
an
interesting story
of a
young
man who knows that he is destined for
greatness
and
early
death. As a fictionalized version of modern Burmese
history
it is a
poor
imitation of life.
In order to
develop
his
narrative,
the author
places
himself at the center of the
story,
as
the link between Lin Soe and the world. He
provides
a number of
snapshots
of the man
and his time: the
university
where Lin Soe
studies;
in
hiding
where the author and the
hero meet and
plan
for
unity
between the Burmese Nationalists and the
British;
the
hero's final hours. But
through
all of this the reader learns little about
Burma,
the
rising
generation
of nationalist
leaders,
or
the values and ideals of the
people.
Unlike in the
other novels noted
earlier,
in this one the author is the man in between. As the univer
sity professor,
he teaches the hero about the ideals and values of the
West; later,
as the
agent
for the
Allies,
he is called
upon
to return to wartime Burma and convince the hero
to
join
forces with the British in the final
stages
of the war.
Finally,
he is asked
by
the
Burman
Nationalists,
who succeed Lin
Soe,
to write of their fallen leader so that
they
can
learn more about him.
Thus,
the author sees himself both
instructing
the Burmese about
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136
Josef
Silver stein
the West and about their own
hero,
while he informed the British and the Allies about
the new Burman man whom
they
will have to deal with at war's end.
Overall,
the novel
fails to
give
a clear and consistent
picture
of Burmese
society
in the throes of war and a
highly unlikely picture
is
presented
of the nation's future hero and those who
supported
him. It does
represent
an
original attempt
to create a
truly
Burman hero
who,
although
a
product
of Western
education,
never
really
loses his national
identity.
It also
departs
from the other novels of modern Burma in that it treats the hero and his
supporters
as
secular
figures.
This is not the
story
of
Aung
San
; instead,
it is a view
through
a
prism
that
distorts
reality
as it allows little of the man's
strength
of character and
unswerving
devotion to an ideal to shine
through.
From the
perspective
of a
purely
American war
story, probably
the best that has been
published
thus far is Tom Chamales' Never So Few. The locale is in northern Burma
where a small
group
of American forces live and
fight alongside
the Kachins. This
special
group
of American
fighting
men is the forerunner of the modern CIA who work behind
the lines with local resistance
fighters.
The author
provides
rich
descriptions
of Kachin
life
and,
especially,
the Kachin
fighting
man. The
Americans,
who make the rules that
they
live
by
as
they go along, anticipate
the
cruelty
and
inhumanity
in war the American
public
will come to know and feel a
generation
later as national shame for their
behaviour at
My
Lai. Con
Reynolds
is the American hero in Never So Few. In his war
deeds,
his
intelligence,
and his
revenge,
he is
larger
than life. He drinks
excessively,
he
administers
justice by
a code he makes
up
as situations
arise,
and
fights
to win
regardless
of the method or tactic. He stands in awe of
Nautaung,
the Kachin whom the author
idealizes as an
example
of native
nobility.
The Kachins and their
way
of life not
only
stimulate the author's and the hero's
interest,
but
provide
a frame of reference for
considering
their
own. No
anthropologist
has
provided
a more
positive picture
of the
Kachin value
system,
rituals and behaviour both in
peace
and battle.
This is a
uniquely
American
story
and one not
likely
to interest the Burmese or British
reader.
Yet,
it
provides
an
important
dimension to the war stories in that it examines the
conflict from the
perspective
of the
minorities,
who the author believes will
lose,
regard
less of the outcome. It
suggests
some of the
problems
that were bound to arise after the
war when the Kachins were left to fend for themselves
against
the
Burmans,
and it
expresses
the fear that
they might
not be able to retain their
political
freedom and
way
of life once the
fighting
ends. As
part
of the literature
on
Burma,
it offers one of the best
descriptions
of life
amongst
the Kachins one is
likely
to find in
popular
literature.
If Chamales sees the minorities as noble
savages, Harry
I. Marshall sees them
quite
differently.
Given his
background
as an American
Baptist missionary
and a trained
anthropologist
whose
scholarly study
of the Karens is a
classic,
his novel Naw Su is a
mixture of both traditions.
Looking
at the Karens as a backward hill
people,
he makes
the case for
Christianity
as a
civilizing
and
enlightening
vehicle. The Karens in this
novel,
which was set in the
period just following
the third
Anglo-Burmese
War
(1885?
86),
are hill
dwellers, primitive, dirty,
and filled with
superstitions
and fears of the
Burmans who have dominated them. Naw Su is the
story
of a Karen
girl
who
rejects
native
superstitions
and searches for
something
different and better. She finds it when
she leaves the hills and enters a
missionary
school where she learns to read and to live in
a different
way. Cleanliness, godliness,
and self reliance
gradually
transform her. In time
she returns to the hills to
bring
new ideas and
techniques
to her
people. Although
written
very simply
and almost as a
parable,
it nevertheless contains excellent cultural detail
which
gives
an accurate
picture
of Karen life in the hills of Burma
where,
even
today,
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Burma
through
Western Novels
137
there are
many
who have had little or no contact with the outside world and still live
much as
they
did before the arrival of the Westerner. This
author, too,
sees a kind of
nobility amongst
the
Karens,
especially
when
they
allow themselves to surrender to the
teachings
of the missionaries and
gain
new
strength
from their
foreign
doctrines and
techniques.
If,
in this
case,
the clash of cultures is
uneven,
it is intended to be. For the
reader who will not be
put
off
by
the
special pleading
of the
author,
the novel will reward
him with the best
portrait
of the hill Karens he is
likely
to find in fiction.
John
Slimming,
a British writer who earned his
reputation
as a novelist of books on
Malaya, joins
his American
counterparts,
Chamales and
Marshall,
in
presenting
a
sympathetic portrait
of the
minorities,
again
the
Kachins,
in his novel The Pass. This is
one of the few books on Burma that is set in the
post-independence period
and its action
takes
place against
the
background
of the Cold War.
Again,
the conditions of the
people
and the action of the
story
is narrated
by
a Western
journalist
who comes to this area in
search of a
story
of
escape
from Communist China. Under the
Chinese,
the Kachins are
forced to labour
long
hours under the most difficult conditions and therefore are
willing
to seek
escape
rather than remain. Within this frame of
reference,
the author is able to
compare
the life of the Kachins in China and the
majority
who live under Burmese rule.
He makes modest criticisms of the Burma
government
for its failure to
give refuge
to all
who are
lucky enough
to
escape
from China and for its
general neglect
of the minorities.
Once
again,
Christian missionaries are found
living amongst
the
Kachins; however,
unlike their
counterparts
in Naw
Su,
these are less certain of their mission and their
place
in
independent
Burma.
Living
with this Western
family
is a
young
Kachin
woman,
who
embraced
Christianity
while still
very young
and
living
in
China;
persecuted
for her
attachment to this Western
belief,
she
escaped
across the
pass,
found
religious
freedom
and devoted herself to work in the
missionary hospital
that is run
by
her
protectors.
Although Slimming
is not the
equal
of Chamales in
providing
detailed and
graphic
portraits
of individual Kachins and does not share the latter's reverence for the native
nobility
of the
Kachins, nevertheless,
he does
provide interesting
and accurate
portraits
of this
minority group
as
they
existed in the 1950s. His discussions of the Kachins bear
out some of the fears for their future that Chamales had
expressed
in his earlier novel.
Finally,
there are two historical novels which deserve attention. Maurice
Collis,
She
was a
Queen,
is set
against
the
reigns
of the last two monarchs of the
Pagan dynasty,
Usana and
Narathihapate,
while F.
Tennyson
Jesse,
The
Lacquer Lady,
takes
place
during
the
reign
of the last
king
of the
Konbaung dynasty,
Thibaw. In
style,
content,
and
source,
they
are as different as two novels can be. Collis used the
English
translation of
the Hmannan Yazawun or the Glass Palace
Chronicles,
which were
prepared
in 1829
by
Burman scholars under the direction of the
king,
as his chief source.
Jesse,
on the other
hand,
relied on documents and interviews with Burmese and
Europeans
who either had
first-hand
knowledge
of events or assured her that
they
had received their information
from
participants
or observers. Collis tells the
story
of the rise of a
peasant girl,
who was
destined for
greatness,
to the station of chief
queen,
and the life she
spent
at the
court;
Jesse follows the
intrigues
of a
jealous
and
demanding
chief
queen, Supayalat,
as she
maneuvers and dominates her
husband, Thibaw,
and
helps bring
down the
empire.
Unlike
Collis,
Jesse
provides
a
lady-in-waiting, Fanny,
the
Lacquer Lady,
who,
if the
story
is to be
believed,
caused the third
Anglo-Burmese
War
through
her
jealous
actions. In a historical
sense,
the two stories are
similar;
both
dynasties
fell to
foreign
invaders,
the Chinese in the case of the
Pagan dynasty
and the British in the time of the
Konbaung dynasty,
while in fact both
dynasties
are in the
process
of internal
collapse.
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138
Josef
Silver stein
Ma
Saw,
the heroine of She Was A
Queen,
is shown from two
perspectives:
as a
girl
growing up
in an
upper
Burma
village
and as a
queen
at the court. In
each,
the author
provides insightful
discussion of the
interrelationships
between the
people,
their
lifestyle
and,
more
important,
their belief
system.
Here,
the reader is introduced to the
magical
world of
omens,
signs, spirits,
and other
supernatural
forces that
govern
the beliefs of
commoners and
royalty
alike. Collis also
gives
an
excellent
picture
of court
instability
through
his
descriptions
of
intrigue
and
plotting,
reward and
revenge,
which were the
ongoing
activities of the courtiers as
they sought power
and
authority
in a
system
that did
not have an
orderly process
of succession
or a stable civil service. In this brief
volume,
the reader
finally
will feel that he has entered the world of the Burman
people
and is
seeing
them from within.
Granting
the fact that the author is
an outsider who
depended
upon
translations from his
sources, nevertheless,
he has tried to remain faithful to the
chronicles
and,
in
Burma,
his work
generally
is
recognized
as reliable.
The
Lacquer Lady
will seem more familiar to the Western reader who knows
nothing
of Burma or the area. Jesse fills her
pages
with detailed
descriptions
of the court
and
palace,
the
city
of
Mandalay
and its
European
and Burmese inhabitants and the
influences
upon
both
by Rangoon,
Calcutta, London,
and Paris. Once
again,
the
bridge
is an
Anglo-Burman, Fanny;
she was the
daughter
of a Burman mother and an Italian
father,
who was educated in
England,
and became a
lady-in-waiting
at the Burman
court. Given her
knowledge
of both
worlds,
she moves
easily
between them as she
slips
in and out of the
palace. Through
her,
the reader meets a host of historical as well as
fictional characters who mesh and clash as the
story
unfolds. For the reader who is
interested in
learning
about life at court or
comparing
the court of the nineteenth
century
with that of the
thirteenth,
the
period
of She Was A
Queen,
he will find the
descriptions
and
dialogue
to be rich and colourful in their detail. He also will find excellent
descrip
tions of architecture of the old
palace,
which still stood at the time the novel was
written,
the
daily
life of the
queen
and her
ladies-in-waiting,
the
relationship
between the
king
and his
queens
as well as the
intrigue
both in and outside the
palace.
Many
have
quarreled
with the author's
interpretation
of life at the court and the
sprawling city
outside. Burmese have been offended
by
her
presentation
of their last
king
as
easily manipulated
and not in
complete
control of his mental
faculties;
his
cruelty
and lack of
judgement
were
widely publicized during
his lifetime in the Western
press.
Supayalat,
the
queen, too,
is
presented
in the most
negative
fashion
possible.
She, too,
is shown as
cruel, petty, revengeful,
and
ignorant
of the outside world as she seeks
power
and influence. Whether later
day
historians will reverse these
judgements
remains to be
seen. Jesse
presents
the court and its inhabitants as Western historians have described
them and makes no allowances for the biases that
they may
have harboured.
It is
Fanny
who
provides
not
only
the link between the Burman court and the outside
but,
in
addition, represents
the different mentalities found in the two
places.
When
Fanny
is in the court she behaves as do the other
women;
when
outside,
she is the
modern and for her
times, liberated,
woman who is in contact with missionaries and
businessmen, government
officials and charlatans.
Through
her,
the reader
gets
the
feeling
of
being
a
part
of this Asian
capital
where traditional Burma is in
open
conflict
with the
agents
and ideas of the West.
The narrative is filled with real historical
figures
and Jesse
brings
them to life. Arthur
Phayre,
Dr.
Marks,
the Kinwun
Mingyi
and
many
others
leap
from the
pages
of
history
and
are
presented,
not as idealized
types,
but as
living
characters with known
strengths
and weaknesses.
Fanny, Captain Bagshaw
her
husband,
and Bonvoisin her
lover, may
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Burma
through
Western Novels 139
or
may
not be
real,
but
they
are
believable and
they help
the reader to understand both
the
Anglo-Burman
and the
Europeans
who
populated
Burma
during
the last
days
of
Thibaw's
reign.
Historians
may
quarrel
with Jesse over her
subplot,
the
jilting
of
Fanny by
her French
lover and the heroine's
revenge:
revelations to the British of a
French
plot
to dis
place
their
European
rival as the
ally
of Burma. Burmese
historians, especially,
Dr.
Maung Maung, dispute
the notion of a French
plot
as the basis of British
aggression
against
the Burmans in 1885.
Certainly
it was a
factor,
and Jesse tries to make it more
important
than it
probably
was.
Nevertheless,
it is a
plausible story and,
given
the British
fears of French advancement westward from
Indochina,
it borders
so
closely
to real
events that the reader will find the fictionalized account of
big power rivalry
to be a
useful
way
of
examining
both the behaviour of the court and its
European
adversaries.
The era of Westerners
writing
about Burma is over. The restrictions on
travel and
residence in Burma makes it
impossible
for an
outsider to learn and observe the nation
and its
people
in their
daily
lives. More
important,
the
era of
expatriates living
at a
higher
standard than
they
would at home is finished. The novels of Burma in the future will be
written
by
Burmese writers. A
large body
of Burmese novels
exist,
but have not been
translated.
Therefore,
the writers and their stories are all but unknown to the outside
world; thus,
the modern
epics
of Burma's
struggle
for
independence,
for
unity amongst
its
people,
and for modernization without loss of national
character,
exist or are in the
process
of
being
written.
However,
until either Burmese or
Western translators make
these novels available in
English
and Western
publishing
houses
bring
out these
works,
they
are
likely
to remain unknown to the world
beyond
Burma. That in the end would
be a
tragedy
because it would be a
part
of the
perpetuation
of Burma's isolation and a
loss of contact between
peoples
at a
very
time when communications and media are
bringing
the
peoples
of the world
together.
The novels of Burma do
provide
an
important prism through
which the strands of
light
propel images
and ideas of Burma to the reader that
help
him to understand
aspects
of
Burmese life and culture.
They
are
useful to scholar and
layman
alike and it is
hoped
that
the
growing body
of those written
by
Burmese novelists will soon refract their
light
on
independent
Burma and
help
us to know it better.
This content downloaded from 14.139.69.54 on Tue, 29 Apr 2014 02:04:49 AM
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140
Josef
Silverstein
A BRIEF ANNOTATED BIBLIOGRAPHY
1.
Bates, H.E., The Jacaranda Tree
(London: Penguin
Books,
1977),
250
pp. (available only
in
England).
The
story
of
escape
from the
Japanese
invasion of Burma
by
a small
party
of
Europeans
and Burmese.
2.
_
, The
Purple
Plain
(London: Penguin
Books,
1977),
233
pp. (available only
in
England).
The
story
of war heroism as a small
party
of downed fliers make their
way
to
safety.
This novel was made into a film.
3.
Collis, Maurice,
She Was A
Queen (London:
Faber and Faber
Limited,
1952),
248
pp.
(out
of
print).
A historical novel of the last
years
of the
Pagan dynasty.
Follows the rise of
a
peasant girl
to chief
queen
and life at court.
4. _, Sanda Mala
(New
York: Carrick and
Evans, Inc.,
1940),
328
pp.
Also
published
in
England by
Faber and Faber Limited
(out
of
print).
A love
story
between a
European
painter
and a Burmese
girl,
and life in lower Burma in the 1920s.
5.
Chamales,
Tom
T.,
Never So Few
(New
York: Charles Scribner's
Sons,
1957) (out
of
print).
An
outstanding
war
story
about American
special
forces
fighting alongside
Kachins
in Northern Burma. This novel was made into a film.
6.
Cruttwell, Patrick,
A Kind
of Fighting (New
York: Macmillan
Company, 1960),
272
pp.
(out
of
print).
A
thinly disguised story
of Burma's nationalist
leader, Aung
San.
7.
Marshall,
Harry
I.,
Naw Su
(Portland,
Maine: Falmouth
Publishing
House, 1947),
351
pp. (out
of
print).
A
simple story
of a
young
Karen
girl
who leaves her
village
and lives
with American
Baptists
as she
adopts Christianity
and later
imparts
it to her
people
8.
Jesse,
F.
Tennyson,
The
Lacquer Lady (New
York: Macmillan
Company, 1930),
441
pp.
(available
in new
paperback edition).
A historical novel of courtlife and
intrigue during
the
reign
of Burma's last
monarch,
Thibaw.
9.
Leslie, Cecilie,
The Golden Stairs
(Garden City: Doublday
and
Company,
Inc.,
1968),
286
pp. (out
of
print).
A
haunting
and sensitive
story
of
escape
from the
Japanese
invaders
by
a
group
of
Europeans
and Asians who
eventually
reach India.
10.
Orwell,
George,
Burmese
Days (London: Penguin
Books,
1969),
272
pp.
The best known
novel of Burma. The
story
of a small
group
of
Europeans living
in
upper
Burma who are
corrupted by
the colonial
system they
serve.
11.
Mannin, Ethel,
The
Living
Lotus
(New
York: G. P. Putnam's
Sons,
1956),
255
pp. (out
of
print).
The
story
of an
Anglo-Burman girl
who is raised
by
a Burman
family during
World
War
II;
later she is lured to
England by
her father who tries to make her a Christian and
English
and fails on both counts.
12.
Shute, Nevil,
The
Chequer
Board
(New
York: William Morrow and
Company, 1947) (out
of
print). Only
a
portion
of the novel deals with
Burma;
it
provides
the
background
of
a
subplot
about an
English pilot
who is shot down
during
the war and finds love and
happiness
amongst
the Burmese.
13.
Slimming,
John,
The Pass
(New
York:
Harper
Bros.,
1962),
256
pp.
A novel set in
post
independent
Burma,
which takes
place
in the border
region
of the Kachin State where
Kachins,
against
difficult
odds,
seek to
escape
from China.
14.
Takeyama,
Michio, Harp of
Burma
(Rutland,
Vermont;
Charles E. Tuttle
Co.,
1968),
132
pp. (translated by
Howard
Hibbett).
The
unique story
of Burma's
impact upon
a
defeated
company
of
Japanese
soldiers who await
repatriation
home.
This content downloaded from 14.139.69.54 on Tue, 29 Apr 2014 02:04:49 AM
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions