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Zusatztext The Economist A novel of distinction almost indecently accomplished for a twenty-three-year-old. Informationen zum Autor Hwee Hwee Tan was born in 1974 in Singapore. She has lived in the Netherlands and studied English Literature at the University of Oxford. Her award-winning short stories have been broadcast on the BBC. She currently lives in New York City, where she is a New York Times Fellow at the NYU writing program. Klappentext Trouble often comes with a late-night phone call. So it comes to Mei, a twenty-something Singaporean lawyer about to face the greatest trial of her life. Her English boyfriend Andy, working in Singapore as a teacher, has been arrested, accused of masterminding an international betting ring. Under Singapore's draconian system of justice, he has but nine short days to prove his innocence or face life in prison. With time running out, Singapore native Eugene, Andy's best friend and Mei's childhood playmate, flies in from Holland to help uncover the truth, a search that will unearth long-hidden secrets and forever challenge the moral, ethical, and spiritual framework of their lives.Exploring the chasm between Singapore's pop culture and traditional values, the friends' Gen-X cynicism and their gnawing hunger for direction and meaning, Hwee Hwee Tan delivers a powerful novel of clashing cultures and swirling spiritual quests, in which the wit is as sharp and unafraid as the insight it offers. Chapter I DAY ONE: SUNDAY (VERY EARLY) MORNING Mei 'Are you a Singaporean citizen, over twenty-one, and a lawyer?' he said. I recognized that voice at once, the English accent, the voice roughened by too much tar and endless lager sagas. It could only be Andy. Now the above question might seem fairly innocuous to the casual eavesdropper, but in this instance it caused me a great deal of aggravation. Believe me, if Mother Teresa was in my place, if she was asked the same question under the same controlled circumstances, it would be enough to make her chuck her role as the saint of the century and send her screaming down the streets, going apeshit, looking for babies to kick. Why was Andy's question so provocative? I'll tell you why. Firstly, not only because it was one in the morning (and looking at my glow-in-the-dark Casio clock, I saw that it was 1:16 a.m. to be exact), but secondly, and more importantly, Andy knew, that I knew, that he knew, the answer to all three questions, because five hours earlier he was supposed to meet me outside Tung Lok Shark's Fin Restaurant to celebrate my getting the licence to practise law. Of course, Andy didn't turn up. I hate eating alone, so I went home early, and woe to me -- I returned to the flat only to find my mother having a karaoke night with her mah-jong playmates. So instead of feasting on Abalone Delight and Peking Duck, I spent my evening trying to block out the sound of fifty-something housewives wailing songs from the Karaoke Hit List From Hell, songs like 'Sealed With A Kiss', 'Singapura, Oh Singapura (Sunny Island Set In The Sea)', 'Tie A Yellow Ribbon Round the Old Oak Tree', 'Que Será Será', and 'Ne Xin Li Ken Ben Mei Yao Wo' (or 'Your Heart Never Had Me'). Trust me, you haven't seen something truly Satanic until you've seen your mother belting out 'Chain Reaction' complete with Diana Ross hand actions and bum wiggles. So, as you can imagine, when Andy phoned, I was in less than a good mood. What would you do -- after the pain in your ears has subsided, when you've finally managed to fall asleep -- what would you do, if you were woken at one in the morning by someone who had stood you up five hours earlier, and asked three completely inane questions? I pondered my options, rolled over the choices that came to mind, and finally decided upon the calmest, the most apposite, indeed, the most mature response. I slammed down the phone. It rang again, and I picked ...
