Author, travel writer and onetime Singapore resident Paul Theroux is in town for the Singapore Writers Festival. He’s appearing three times: The Roads I Travelled (Nov 8, 11:30am, School of the Arts, $20 from Sistic), When ‘Do No Harm’ Hurts (Nov 8, 7pm, National Museum of Singapore) and for a Meet the Author session (Nov 9, 2:30pm, also at the National Museum) which will be followed by a screening of the until-recently-banned film of his Singapore novel Saint Jack. For the latter two events you’ll need a festival pass ($15 from Sistic).
Your novel Kowloon Tong is pretty prescient about post-handover Hong Kong. Are you encouraged by the people protesting there now? Or do you fear it will simply never end well?
I am encouraged by anyone who takes a risk by raising their voice in asking for justice, fairness and democracy. In the short run it may not end well, but in the long run I am sure such a risk and effort will yield good results. I say this because in 1963 I campaigned with other students for the US to keep away from Vietnam and not to go to war. No one listened, and we were held up to ridicule and told we were unpatriotic. Now, fifty years later, we are regarded as having been far-sighted.
The places you live tend to shape the person you become—are there aspects of your character that you think reflect your years in Singapore?
Singapore was the beginning for me of family life, in a place where families were valued—parents and children living in a small space, but with confidence in the future and a dedication to work and education. You could say, it was the embodiment of Confucianism. That sense of unity and serenity (see The Analects) has stayed with me.
If you were starting out again now, where in the world would you be most interested in living?
I feel lucky in having grown up in the US, traveled extensively, and returned here in my later years. I used to fantasize about living in Bali—but I was in Bali earlier this year and it has changed radically—it’s much busier, not so laid-back. I often think that a great place to grow old would be in a kampong in Malaysia, or a village in Thailand, in a palm grove, among chickens and rice fields and friendly folks, where I would be old Uncle Paul in my hammock.
