Beauty is a Wound, the last words that conclude the book, do somethings crazy. It forces you to consider the book in it’s multiple depths. Sure, on the surface this is a book about a really fucked up family.

But the weird thing is, is it the people who are fucked up or the situation they’re put in? Indonesia has this history of colonialism and self-destruction that are rooted deeply in the history of the world. Even today, ISIS and radical Islam affects Indonesia with a distinctly different tone than any other country. A modern island country having its massive population slowly accept the radicalization in some sense, but also counter forces working towards quelling the growth. The growing disconnect is enforced by the tribal nature of its isolated islands.

Not to mention China, South Sea politics in general, being caught between the Philippines, the US/Guam, and North Korea, just a lot of bigger/scarier players in the picture.

The book is representative of how many different races and cultures are represented in the character’s blood, even with the incest. Dewai is half Dutch. Shanto is Japanese, Maya is half as well, and their kid is some of all of that. That blending of blood, I think, is an example of Indonesia’s diverse population. The amalgamation of so many cultures and people are really reflected in the food as well, always a good indication of cultural history.

Goddamn literally everyone is f*king each other, like no bodies business. It’s almost just overwhelming. I’m not sure what the deeper [haaa] message except maybe don’t be a woman and men are dogs.

They all seem to want to destroy each other. Beauty or not.

I’m vaguely confused, I don’t really want to rape anyone ever? Is that like wrong, cuz literally everyone in this book is running dick first into everyone, willingly or not. Am I missing something or is this just like things other people think about? No real, I think people are weird, but maybe it’s just me. Or it’s just a black mirror against the evil face of humanity, specifically men. And most specifically the Japanese soldier, and that’s historically true.

I mean not that how we describe sex is undoubtedly violent at times. Banging. Smash. Destroy that pussy. Spank the monkey. Choke the chicken. Beat meat.

But I’m going to consider the nausea I felt at some of these abusive scenes as normal. I spent a lot of my middle school years concerned about being normal so I guess I got this one going for me…

It’s an expansive book and difficult to read at times. I had to walk away twice, when it was just painful to keep imagining their pain. But at the end of the book, I had some deep desire sated, like when I ate the eggplant salad at the Pok Pok NY. I had just a strong introduction into something I didn’t know very much and it reacted surprisingly, almost unpleasantly, and so different but good that I was shocked by what I didn’t know could be good.

What it’s come down to is Eke Kurniawan is giving voice and character to a culture/society that we very much ignore. Relegated to the far corners of the Mercator Projection, the thousands of islands, as diverse and varied of a country as you could possibly imagine, have been conquered, enslaved, and disregarded. It’s injustice at its most distasteful. So, while the scenes of this book are sometimes hard, sometimes uncomfortable, it’s important to read. It’s important to observe. Because Kurniawan is trying to give us empathy with the plight of millions with just a handful of characters. Their stories didn’t happen once. They happened over and over, better and much worse, and they will be lost to the winds of time with barely a whisper. And we’ll keep living on, because we never knew.

The magic is a great addition, one of those spices that you don’t see too often used in other literature. The casual acceptance by the population of ghosts, spirits, the dead rising, the “births of air”, the mantras and old wise men. It’s not like we haven’t see these things before but in combination, its gives a strong sense of the culture.

Overall, I’d give this book a strong 4.10. It is great, but it’s difficult to read. It’s a unique voice, which is great, but also means I don’t have great comparisons. I learned something, indoctrinated myself into a different culture. The book made me think deeply about it is and what the author was trying to convey, and I think I did understand and appreciate it. I think that speaks to the skill of the author. But it’s not the most memorable, line for line, except for it’s outlandish rape scenes and some of the mysticism. Is that due to my lack of Indonesian cultural experiences? Is it because translated books never exactly say what the native language can express? I don’t know that right now.