There’s nothing quite like reading a book set in a city when you’re in that city. (Ouch, that’s clumsily phrased, but I trust you get the gist.)
For context, I’m currently in Bangkok, and have thoroughly enjoyed reading the 2nd instalment in the Sonchai Jitpleecheep series, a detective series set in Bangkok – although, I hasten to add, the city the detective roams through bears absolutely no relation to my experience!
My pottering around Bangkok, visiting temples and street markets, and going for a run in my local park, is a far cry from the world of murder and bars and call girls and tattoos that Sonchai inhabits.
The book was written over 20 years ago, but I think (without any actual proof) that the action might be set further back than 2005 (publication date).
Sonchai, who is half American/half Thai, is a rarity and an oddity in the Thai Police, in that he speaks fluent English, is scrupulously honest and is a devout Buddhist. Through intensive meditation in a monastery, as penance for youthful crimes, Sonchai sometimes has flashes of insights into the past lives of other people, which gives him a different perspective on police work:
“Ever since, I have experienced flashes of insight into the past lives of others. Sometimes the information is precise and easy to interpret, but most of the time it consists of rather vague phantasmagoric glimpses of another person’s inner life. This Muslim’s is something else. somtething so rare in bangkok I’m in shock. I’m almost certain of it:we met at the great Buddhist University at Nalanda, india, oh, about seven hundred years ago. I have to admit he’s kept his glow.”
We meet up again with several characters from the first book, including Sonchai’s mother Nong (a former prostitute turned savvy business woman) and Sonchai’s boss, the blatantly corrupt head of police Colonel Vikorn. We make the acquaintance of the delightfully camp and confused Lek, nominally a policeman but way more interested in undergoing sex-change surgery.
Vikorn is a great, larger than life character – drinking on the job, openly and cheerfully on the take, locked in battle with the head of the army over the spoils of raids, and yet strangely considerate of his staff. Sonchai adores him, and Vikorn clearly cares about young Lek:
“Vikorn gruns. “A male cop with tits? Is he going to have the full operation?”
“He’s not sure. Anyway, he doesn’t have the money right now.”
“So why the hell did he become a cop?”
“Same reason I did. he didn’t want to be a whore or a gangster.”
Viikorn nods. “I understand…”
A thoughtful pause. “I don’t want him working the bars. Is he going to dance?
Bangkok is ever-present in the novel, beyond the bars and the crime – especially the traffic and, of course, the food:
“Breakfast time: the street is full of early-morning cooked-food stalls. I’m pretty hungry so I choose ‘kuay jap,” a thick broth of Chinese’s mushrooms and pork lumps gleaming with nutrition as the hawker dips and raises his ladle, a great writhing knot of “kuaytiaw phat” (literally, drunkard’s fried noodles: a stir-fry of rice noodles, basil, chicken and a crimson tide of fresh sliced chillies)…”
The novel, as in the preceding book in the series, takes us deep into Bangkok’s underworld of prostitution and drugs and dubious policing. We encounters spies, and tattoo artists, and I actually don’t want to tell you too much, so as not to spoil the plot. There are references to the growing mistrust of Muslims in SE Asia, especially from the American spy services, and we travel to the north of Thailand, where the pace of life is so different from Bangkok.
The conclusion of the story is morbidly, revoltingly fascinating.
A great read, and highly recommended.