Tash Aw

Map of the Invisible World


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      TASH AW

      

       Map of the Invisible World

       Dedication

       For my sisters LL and SL

       Epigraph

      Did I not once upon a time have a lovable childhood, heroic and fabulous, to be written on leaves of gold, an excess of good fortune?

      RIMBAUD, Matin

      His voice lasted just a few moments. A fleeting tremor, never to be repeated.

      PRAMOEDYA ANANTA TOER, ‘Yang Sudah Hilang’

      ‘My dreams are like other people’s waking hours…My memory, sir, is like a garbage heap.’

      BORGES, ‘Funes, His Memory’

       Contents

       Title Page

      Dedication

       Epigraph

       Chapter 1

       Chapter 2

       Chapter 3

       Chapter 4

       Chapter 5

       Chapter 6

       Chapter 7

       Chapter 8

       Chapter 9

       Chapter 10

       Chapter 11

       Chapter 12

       Chapter 13

       Chapter 14

       Chapter 15

       Chapter 16

       Chapter 17

       Chapter 18

       Chapter 19

       Chapter 20

       Chapter 21

       Chapter 22

       Chapter 23

       Chapter 24

       Chapter 25

       Chapter 26

       Chapter 27

       Chapter 28

       Chapter 29

       Chapter 30

       Chapter 31

       Chapter 32

       Chapter 33

       Chapter 34

       Acknowledgements

       About the Author

       Also by Tash Aw

       Copyright

       About the Publisher

       1

      When it finally happened, there was no violence, hardly any drama. It was over very quickly, and then Adam found himself alone once more. Hiding in the deep shade of the bushes, this is what he saw.

      The soldiers jumped from the truck on to the sandy soil. They dusted themselves off, straightening their hitched-up trouser legs and tucking their shirts into their waistbands. Their long sleeves were rolled up thickly above their elbows and made their arms look skinny and frail, and the belts they wore were so wide they seemed to stretch their waists to their chests. They laughed and joked and aimed pretend-kicks at one another. Their boots were too big and when they ran they looked like clowns. They were just kids, Adam thought, just like me, only with guns.

      They hesitated as they approached the steps going up to the veranda, talking among themselves. They were too far away; he couldn’t hear what they were saying. Then two of them went up to the house and when they emerged they had Karl with them. He was not handcuffed; he followed them slowly, walking to the truck with his uneven gait before climbing up and disappearing under the tarpaulin canopy. From a distance he looked small, just like them, just like a child too, only with fair hair and pink skin.

      Stop. Adam wanted to call out, to scream for Karl to come back. Don’t leave, he wanted to shout. But he remained silent and unmoving, shrouded by the dense thorny foliage. He could do this now: he held his breath and counted slowly from one to ten. A long time ago, he had learnt this way of controlling his fear.