Baba Billy Tay reviews The Ash House by Audrey Chin
I first met Audrey Chin in July 2022, and discovered that we share quite a few things in common.
For one, she is a fellow writer. She is also a fellow Peranakan, who had just written a new book that paid homage to our beloved culture. Intrigued, I picked up a copy and couldn’t put it down.
The Ash House chronicles the journey of Sister Mary Michael, a clairvoyant nun who was sent to rid Arno Tjoa, heir to a rich family, of Bing Fa, a possessive pipa-playing spirit. The exorcism if successful would save his family by restoring normalcy to the Tjoa household. A ghost marriage to the Tjoa patriarch plagues the inhabitants of the house, as they fall victim to Bing Fa’s acts of manipulation.
Like the Tjoa home’s space age interior that hides behind a dilapidated and under-maintained exterior, there is more than meets the eye within the Tjoas themselves. The family’s secrets begin to unveil themselves through the mundane as we are taken on a journey through the eyes of Sister Mary Michael. The book shifts from one perspective to another as we learn about the Tjoas’ past – the rise and fall of the family’s matriarch, to the present-day reason for their plight.
Desire, determination, and desperation – these themes run through the pages of The Ash House. While many stories generate pathos for their characters, this novel throws that convention out the window. These characters are lustful, vengeful, spiteful, and determined to find a way out for themselves.
Chin’s subversive storytelling clichés are aided by her use of uncompromising and disturbingly accurate descriptors. From describing Arno’s child-like behaviour and unkemptness through phrases like ‘crotch-slime’, to the evolution of Girl – from innocent maid to a hedonistic, manipulative woman driven by desperation for freedom.
The intrigue accelerates towards the middle of the book where the characters’ true colours come to full flower. I read on, not to see our protagonists happy, but to see on which path their flawed behaviours will lead them.
Chin’s novel was greatly inspired by her experiences – from growing up near a Hakka cemetery, to living in a Peranakan shophouse in Emerald Hill. The visual razzle-dazzle that pays homage to the Peranakan culture is appealing, mystifying, and superstitious – all at once! Even the most mundane of items – a bowl of dessert perhaps – is given Chin’s descriptive gift.
At a deeper level, The Ash House is a sharp critique on inequality, and a timely reminder of the plight of domestic workers in Asia. With Girl and Cook working tirelessly only to be mistreated (and even sexually assaulted) by their employers, to the fear and helplessness of being alone in a foreign land, Chin seamlessly weaves together these pro-feminist themes in a dark, ‘rise-and-fall’ story that is hard to put down.
