Tan Twan Eng Interview, plus links to author biography, book summaries, excerpts and reviews

An interview with Tan Twan Eng

Tan Twan Eng discusses his novel, The House of Doors, with the 2023 Booker Prize Committee.

How does it feel to be nominated for the Booker Prize 2023, and what would winning mean to you?

It feels wonderful, especially when my last book was published almost eleven years ago. The House of Doors was an extremely difficult book for me to write, and there were many occasions when I wanted to abandon it. Nothing would work, nothing was cohering. But I felt driven by the characters and the story, and I refused to give up on it.

Winning would mean much, much more than something personal for me: no writer from Malaysia – no writer from South-East Asia – has ever won the Booker Prize. When people talk about 'Asian Writing' and 'Asian Literature', they're talking about China, Japan, Korea. South-East Asia is often barely even acknowledged. Winning would create a wider, more global awareness of writers and literature from my small but culturally rich corner of the world.

This is the third nomination you've received for the Booker Prize, and you've been nominated for each of your three novels - a 100 per cent strike rate. Does it feel any different this time?

I told a friend recently, 'I should stop writing now, to preserve that 100 percent strike rate.'

It feels just as exciting as the first and second time, because each book is different, and each longlist is different. But there's more intense social media attention now, compared to when my first novel was nominated.

There's a gap of 10 years between the publication of The House of Doors and your previous book - did you always anticipate it would take a long time to write this one?

I did not. There were various reasons for this lengthy period of time: I had a knee injury which did not improve with surgery. I put aside another novel I had just started working on, as I felt it was too big, too demanding a writing project. Instead I decided to write another novel, something which I envisaged would be easier to accomplish. Imagine my dismay when I realised that this novel – The House of Doors – was evolving into a complex and complicated story.

I begin with the main characters. I work out what is it that they are seeking. I always know the ending, although getting there is another matter entirely

What does your writing process look like? Do you type or write in longhand? Are there multiple drafts, long pauses, or sudden bursts of activity?

I begin with the main characters. I work out what is it that they are seeking. I always know the ending, although getting there is another matter entirely. With this novel, I even knew what the concluding sentence would be; every other word and sentence preceding it was directed, like an arrow fired from a bow, towards that final sentence.

I type on a laptop because it just looks more official to me, more real, more professional – I convince myself that I'm doing actual work and not just messing about. I rewrite countless times, as the final work has to be as near perfect as possible. I try to maintain a consistently long stretch of writing, because it's so hard to sink back into the trance of writing again if it gets interrupted for too long.

Where exactly do you write? What does your working space look like?

At my desk in my study. I try to keep my workspace organised, but inevitably and very quickly the desk would be overrun by stacks of books, papers, and other research materials.  There'll also be a big cup of tea – I drink incessantly when I'm writing.

The House of Doors is based on true events, and is partly drawn from a Malaysian murder case in 1911. What was it about the story that captivated you, and made you want to base a novel around it? 

In my teenage years, when I first read Somerset Maugham's The Letter, I was intrigued to discover that he had based it on Ethel Proudlock's trial in Kuala Lumpur in 1911. She was the first white woman to be charged with murder in Malaya. She claimed that the man she had shot dead had tried to rape her in her home.

The House of Doors is about many things, but at the heart of it all, it is really about the acts of creation: how Maugham had come to hear about the trial, and how he had transmuted it into his story. It's about the power of stories, how they can transcend cultures and borders, transcend even time itself.

I see The House of Doors and The Letter as mirrors of each other. How you read The House of Doors will affect your reading of The Letter, which in turn will then change how you view The House of Doors, which in turn will then alter your impressions of The Letter, which in turn will … and on and on it goes, a pair of mirrors, reflecting each other into infinity, the patterns of the reflections changing every time you look at them.

Somerset Maugham is a key character in the novel. What research did you conduct into his life and times, and what drew you to him in particular? Is it easier or harder to bring real people to life in fiction, and to develop them as characters? 

I read most of his short stories, paying close attention to those that I knew were autobiographical. I read his essays and journals. I read many of his novels, and I'm sure I read every Maugham biography that's ever been published. I read books by and about his contemporaries, mining them for any mention of their interactions with Maugham. He was a fascinating man: world-famous and immensely wealthy, but at the same time also, due to his lifelong stammer, insecure, shy, prickly and sensitive. But most of all he was a supreme storyteller.

It's much, much harder to write about real people: To start with I had to bring them back to life again, make them authentic and convincing. The direction of my story, the scenes I set, the interactions between these characters also had to be subservient to their characteristics and personalities; they had to be emotionally and psychologically true. I found it very constrictive. I felt much more free writing about Lesley and Robert and the other fictional characters.

The House of Doors is set during Britain's colonial rule of Malaya, and your other novels have been located in the early or mid-20th century. What is it about that time period that interests you? 

The dynamics of power of that period: between men and women, between the ruler and the ruled, between people of different races and cultures. I'm fascinated by how East and West clashed, merged, pulled apart; how they enriched but also damaged each other. Sadly, all these issues are still very relevant today. We did not know very much about one another then, and I feel we still don't today.

The Booker judges described The House of Doors as 'historical fiction at its finest'. Were you inspired by any other writers of historical fiction while writing the book?

Because I was writing about Maugham writing his stories, I felt I had to follow his lead. But I found that restrictive and it just did not work for me. Eventually I abandoned that idea, and then the writing just opened up.

Which book or books are you reading at the moment? 

Masquerade: The Lives of Noel Coward by Oliver Soden, Homer and His Iliad by Robin Lane Fox, and Papyrus by Irene Vallejo.

Do you have a favourite Booker-winning or Booker-shortlisted novel and, if so, why?

Penelope Lively's Moon Tiger. I think she's an underrated writer and should be more widely known. Her shifts of time and viewpoint (the two often happening simultaneously) are seamless and masterful. A person dies in the final scene in Moon Tiger, but Lively doesn't describe it. All the reader senses is that something has depleted from the room in the nursing home, and that something is… life. And yet… life still goes on.

What are you working on next?

I haven't been able to sit down for an extended period of time to work on my new novel. The past year I was one of the judges of the International Booker Prize 2023, and that involved reading 135 novels in nine months. This year has been and will be taken up with promoting The House of Doors.

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In an interview from 2008, Tan discusses his first novel, The Gift of Rain, which is set in Malaysia and spans the decades from the final days of the Chinese emperors to the dying era of the British Empire.

Why did you write about this particular moment in Malaysian history?
I’ve been interested in this period since I was a boy, and I’ve been reading up on it and collecting materials and books on it for a long time. It’s a time which appeals to me, perhaps because it’s so soaked in nostalgia. Things seemed to have been done with more style then, there was a greater emphasis that things had to be done properly.

When I began writing The Gift of Rain, it seemed only natural to me that I set it in that era. The story also required it to be, of course, because I wanted to write about the Japanese Occupation of Malaya and how it affected my characters.

Who do you identify with the most in the novel?
I identify myself with many of the characters in The Gift of Rain – from Philip, to Endo, to Michiko and all the other characters. While the novel isn’t autobiographical in terms of the plot elements, it does contain many of my views on life, the philosophies which have influenced me, and the questions about life which I often ask myself and wiser people around me.

What does Philip Hutton want in life? What is important to him?
Philip wants – like all of us – to find a place to belong to. I think many of us feel that we don’t really belong to the society we’re in, that we don’t fit in. We go through the motions everyday of living our lives, but there’s a part of us that feels we ought to be somewhere else, a place where we are fully accepted for what we are and how we think.

Were you influenced by other authors or other texts while writing? Which ones?
I wasn’t influenced by anyone or any text while actually writing The Gift of Rain, but I’ve been an admirer of Kazuo Ishiguro’s works for a long time. He has that spare, detached tone in his novels that I like. When I first decided I wanted to be a writer, I thought I would like to write the way he does. But when I began working on The Gift of Rain, I realized that I couldn’t do so, because we’re completely different people, with different influences, tastes and viewpoints.

What are the lasting effects/ reminders of World War II in Malaysia ?
It’s odd that despite what had happened, Malaysians are a forgiving – or forgetful – lot. The people who lived through the Japanese Occupation have died or are growing older now, and the younger people actually have very little knowledge of it. When the UK edition of The Gift of Rain first came out, many of my friends in Malaysia told me, after reading it, that they hadn’t been aware of quite a lot of the events during the war. It’s different in the UK and Australia, where the returning veterans have written memoirs and books on the subject.

How does the practice of aikido factor in the plot of the book?
Aikido is one of the most complex and sophisticated martial arts I’ve come across. As I mentioned in the novel, at its highest level it becomes more of a mental exercise than a physical one. I also wanted to use it as a vehicle to carry the Eastern philosophical elements of the novel, using the descriptions of the movements to convey what I wanted to say. By doing so, I could avoid dragging the pace of the novel, or confusing readers who would have found certain concepts confusing.

You are a strong proponent for the conservation of heritage buildings in Kuala Lumpur and Malaysia. What prompted this interest and what can be done to staunch the destruction of historically important structures?
My interest is primarily aesthetic – I find these buildings architecturally beautiful, symbolizing a time which can never return. Compared to modern architecture, these old buildings have souls, history, stories.

It’s hard to staunch the destruction of these structures, especially in Asia, where they’re looked upon as icons of colonialism, and the Asian mindset is to have something new and modern. But I suppose by educating people about the intangible value of such buildings we can do something to stop the destruction. A middle way can be found, by preserving these buildings and converting them to suit modern requirements – but something is always lost as well when this happens.

What was the experience like to be long-listed for the Man Booker Prize?
It was wonderful and also surreal. I was a bit tense on the day the announcement was made, and. I had to go out for dinner that evening and I wasn’t a very good dinner companion! Halfway through dinner I had a call from a London number which was cut off before I could answer it and this added to my distraction and anxiety. When I got home I found an email from my agent with the word “CONGRATULATIONS!” on the subject heading. And because I wasn’t expecting a baby, I knew I was on the list. That night, for the first and only time in my life, I failed to fall asleep. So many thoughts went through my mind and at 4 a.m. I got out of bed and began answering the congratulatory emails that had already started to come in.

There was also an element of fear: now my book was out there, brought to the attention of readers around the world.

How did you come to writing novels? How did you balance working as an advocate and solicitor with writing?
I write novels because since I was young I read very widely and extensively. I wanted to be a writer from childhood, because I thought – erroneously! – that it was an easy profession, glamorous, and financially rewarding. I was also fortunate enough to be doing my Masters when I wrote The Gift of Rain. There was no way I could have worked as a lawyer and still write – especially a book like The Gift of Rain, where I had to feel, to immerse myself in emotions and mood.

Unless otherwise stated, this interview was conducted at the time the book was first published, and is reproduced with permission of the publisher. This interview may not be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the copyright holder.