Excerpt from We, the Survivors by Tash Aw, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

We laughed loudly – as if we were best buddies with him. Yeah, clean it all up. I can't remember what else we said, can't recall exactly what kind of jokes we made, but we wanted the police to think we were on their side. We knew they wouldn't be hassling us that night, that there was someone else they were more interested in. Even though I was young, I thought I already understood the way things worked. But that night made it clear to me, like the words to a song by a foreign singer. You know the melody by heart, but you can't quite make out the words, you can only understand fragments of English here and there, you sing a line or two from the chorus and sort of understand the message, but then one day someone explains the words to you, and suddenly everything clicks into focus, the whole song makes sense. It's no longer just a pretty tune, it's got meaning – and that night, the message became clear: no one wanted to know about you if you were dark-skinned and foreign. Who would come looking for you if you were thrown in Sungai Buloh jail? Or if you sank slowly to the bottom of a river? No one would ask questions. Not until it was way too late.

I don't know why I'm telling you all this. I guess I want to empty out the contents of my head after all these years. That's what you asked me to do right from the start. Don't hold back, be as honest and open as possible. Just talk, you said. No judgement. So that's what I'm doing. Just talking.

October 4th

I have nothing to complain about these days. Every day is the same, and this is a blessing. Nowadays people think variety is the only thing that gives meaning to life, but they forget that routine is a privilege too. No disruptions, no crazy ups and downs, no heartbreak or distress – there is something divine in sameness, isn't there? A gift sent from the gods. I'm lucky. I live on my savings – the small amount of money I made when I sold my house in Taman Bestari that I'd lived in with my wife. To my surprise it was still worth something when I came out of jail, so I sold it and moved into this place, a smaller house with just two small bedrooms, a bit further out of town. Twice a week, someone from the church visits me with a food hamper – basic groceries with a few treats thrown in – and if ever I'm in need, I can always go to church to talk to someone, and they'll usually give me some biscuits or leftover fried rice – whatever they have in the kitchen. It's called Harvest Assembly. I've been going there for nearly six years, ever since I got out of prison.

Apart from that, small sums of money come through to me from time to time from a Chinese charity. You know, the L-Foundation. That happened through the lawyer who tried to get damages from the prison service for the injury I suffered during my time inside, but of course it didn't succeed. I could have told them that before they even started. Who in the world ever gets any damages from the police or the prison service? But because of the lawyer's efforts, someone heard of my case, even though it was never famous, never in the newspapers for long. Somebody took pity on me, even though God knows I wasn't worthy of sympathy then. Next thing I know, I get a cheque for six hundred ringgit. To you it probably seems like nothing, but for me it's a lot. I thought it was a one-time deal, I was happy with it, but the cheques continue to arrive – not regularly, just now and then, with no warning or reason. Sometimes 250 ringgit, sometimes four hundred. On those days I'll walk to the bus stop and ride into town, get there just before the old bak kut teh places shut, and have a big breakfast before strolling around Little India. Sometimes I like to spend a few hours just wandering around a mall in the new town, usually Klang Parade. I treat myself to a meal at Texas Chicken, and always order the same thing: Mexicana Burger and Honey-Butter Biscuits. Sometimes I think I should be more adventurous and try something else – I really like the look of Jalapeno Bombers. Bombers! They sound great. But then I think, what if I don't like them? The thought of getting something new makes me nervous. I want my day to be happy, I don't want to be stressed, I want everything to be calm, to remain the same.

Excerpted from We, the Survivors by Tash Aw. Copyright © 2019 by Tash Aw. Excerpted by permission of Farrar, Straus & Giroux. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.