Busting a taboo
A few years ago, Bui Anh Tan set out to write the first
Vietnamese novel directly exploring homosexual life. He
wanted to encourage readers "to be more sympathetic,
lenient and humane" to those stifled by social taboos.
So when A World Without Women was awarded an
official literary prize earlier this month, it might have
seemed like an indication of official support for Tan's
tolerant approach. Apparently not: Homosexuality has
"now become a social issue that may be dangerous for
Vietnam's young generation if there is no advance
warning," says one of the judges, Hanoi writer Nam
Ha, in explaining why the book was honoured.
Tan, of course, is not the first novelist to be
misunderstood. And if nothing else, the prize from the
Ministry of Public Security and the Vietnam Writers
Association has generated fresh publicity for his novel,
which was first published in 2000 and is now into its
fourth printing.
Tan, a 36-year-old reporter in Ho Chi Minh City,
sticks to plain prose in his tale of interlocking gay lives.
The main character is a closet gay scientist who learns
he has the HIV virus. Despairing, he arranges to be
murdered by a gay hit man. Meanwhile, the handsome
policeman investigating the case is also a closet gay. But
at least he's in a loving relationship with a gay
bar-owner, who gives voice to the author's appeal for
tolerance: "People like me are also human beings," the
bar-owner pleads at one stage. "We also want to be
loved, to breathe, to live."
Few would doubt Tan's courage in writing about gay
lives in Vietnam, where homosexuality remains a taboo,
if not actually a crime. Still, his hyperactive plot and
blunt prose have led some Hanoi literati to dismiss the
novel as sensationalist. Tan's appeal for acceptance is
also undercut by the way one of the novel's characters
is "cured" of his homosexuality and becomes attracted
to women. As one reader says, "It's a step forward,
yes, but only in the context of extraordinary
backwardness."
By Margot Cohen - The Far Eastern Economic Review - August 29, 2002.
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