Vanessa Chan’s debut novel “The Storm We Made” is a gut-wrenching exploration of the devastating impacts of war, colonialism, and misplaced idealism on one Malaysian family during World War II. Through multiple perspectives and timelines, Chan weaves a complex tapestry of love, loss, and impossible choices that will haunt readers long after the final page.
The Story
The Storm We Made opens in 1945 Japanese-occupied Malaya, where Cecily Alcantara’s family is in crisis. Her 15-year-old son Abel has vanished, possibly conscripted by the Japanese. Her youngest daughter Jasmin is hidden in the basement to protect her from being forced into sexual slavery at a “comfort station.” And her eldest, Jujube, works at a teahouse frequented by Japanese soldiers, growing angrier and more disillusioned by the day.
As Cecily desperately searches for Abel and tries to hold her fractured family together, we’re taken back to 1935, when she first met the charismatic Japanese spy Fujiwara. Bored with her life as a housewife and hungry for purpose, Cecily is drawn into espionage work for the Japanese, believing in Fujiwara’s vision of “Asia for Asians” free from Western colonialism. But her actions help usher in an even more brutal Japanese occupation, with devastating consequences for her loved ones and community.
The narrative shifts between multiple timelines and perspectives – primarily Cecily’s, but also those of her children as they grapple with the impacts of war and their mother’s choices. Through these intertwining threads, Chan masterfully builds tension and explores the ripple effects of Cecily’s betrayal across a decade.
Unflinching Portrayal of War’s Brutality
In The Storm We Made, Vanessa Chan doesn’t shy away from depicting the horrors of war and occupation. The novel contains graphic scenes of violence, sexual assault, and cruelty that are difficult to read but important in conveying the realities faced by civilians. The portions set in the forced labor camp where Abel is held are particularly harrowing.
Yet amidst the brutality, Chan finds moments of unexpected tenderness and connection between characters. The friendship between Abel and fellow prisoner Freddie provides a moving counterpoint to the camp’s inhumanity. And young Jasmin’s innocent relationship with Yuki, a girl from the comfort station, is heartbreakingly poignant.
Complex, Flawed Characters
At the heart of The Storm We Made is Cecily – a fascinating, deeply flawed protagonist whose misguided idealism sets tragedy in motion. Chan deftly portrays Cecily’s internal struggle as she’s forced to reckon with the consequences of her choices. Though her actions are often frustrating, Cecily remains painfully human and relatable in her desires for purpose and belonging.
The supporting characters are equally nuanced and compelling. Jujube’s arc from dutiful daughter to embittered young woman is particularly well-rendered. And Fujiwara emerges as a complex figure—at once manipulative and conflicted, ruthless and vulnerable.
Evocative Sense of Time and Place
In The Storm We Made, Vanessa Chan’s vivid prose brings 1940s Malaya to life with rich sensory detail. You can practically feel the oppressive tropical heat, smell the frangipani and rotting fruit, hear the drone of cicadas. Historical events and cultural context are seamlessly woven in without feeling forced or didactic.
The author’s Malaysian heritage lends authenticity to the setting and characters. Small details – like characters mixing English, Malay and Chinese phrases – create an immersive sense of place.
Themes of Identity and Belonging
Throughout the novel, characters grapple with questions of identity and belonging in a colonized nation. As Eurasians, the Alcantaras occupy an uneasy middle ground – not fully accepted by either their British colonizers or their Asian neighbors.
Chan thoughtfully explores how this liminal status shapes her characters’ choices and self-perception. Cecily’s collaboration with the Japanese stems partly from a desire to claim her Asian identity. Meanwhile, her children struggle to find their place in a rapidly changing sociopolitical landscape.
The Lingering Impacts of Colonialism
While the Japanese occupation forms the novel’s backdrop, British colonialism casts a long shadow. Chan astutely examines how colonial structures and attitudes persist even after the British retreat.
The local characters’ internalized racism and fervent admiration for their British “superiors” is especially well-depicted. Chan shows how colonialism warps the psyches of both the colonized and colonizers in subtle, insidious ways.
A Meditation on Guilt and Forgiveness
As the consequences of her betrayal unfold, Cecily is consumed by guilt. Her desperate attempts to make amends drive much of the plot. But can anything truly atone for such a profound betrayal?
The Storm We Made offers no easy answers. Instead, it asks readers to grapple with difficult questions about redemption, forgiveness, and living with the weight of one’s choices. The ambiguous ending leaves room for reflection on these thorny moral dilemmas.
Pacing and Structure
The non-linear structure, with its multiple timelines and POV shifts, can be disorienting at first. But as the threads start to connect, it creates a mounting sense of dread and inevitability.
That said, the pacing in the middle sections occasionally lags. And some of the supporting characters’ perspectives, while interesting, don’t feel entirely necessary to the central narrative.
Overall though, Chan demonstrates remarkable control over her complex narrative. The climactic scenes are absolutely riveting, with all the story threads converging for maximum emotional impact.
A Promising Debut
“The Storm We Made” is an incredibly assured debut novel. Chan’s prose is elegant yet accessible, with flashes of startling lyricism. Her grasp of character psychology and ability to build tension are impressive for a first-time novelist.
If I had one critique, it’s that the sheer amount of tragedy heaped on the characters occasionally feels excessive. A few moments of levity or hope might have provided welcome emotional respite for the reader.
But overall, this is a remarkable achievement—a deeply moving exploration of war’s long-lasting traumas, the complexity of identity, and the impossible choices faced by ordinary people in extraordinary circumstances.
Comparisons and Context
As a debut novelist, Chan doesn’t have previous works to compare this to. But “The Storm We Made” sits comfortably alongside other acclaimed historical novels centered on WWII in Asia, like Vaddey Ratner’s “In the Shadow of the Banyan” or Tan Twan Eng’s “The Garden of Evening Mists.”
Chan’s unflinching look at wartime atrocities and moral compromise also brings to mind recent WWII novels like “The Narrow Road to the Deep North” by Richard Flanagan. And her exploration of colonialism’s psychological impacts echoes themes in Tayari Jones’ “An American Marriage.”
But Chan’s specific focus on the Eurasian experience in Malaya during WWII feels fresh and under-explored in fiction. Her nuanced portrayal of this community adds valuable perspective to the historical record.
Final Thoughts
“The Storm We Made” is not an easy read – it’s emotionally wrenching and at times graphically violent. But it’s also deeply compelling, thought-provoking, and ultimately redemptive.
Chan has crafted a powerful meditation on war, family, and the weight of our choices. Her sharp insights into human nature and unflinching moral scrutiny make for a profound reading experience. This is historical fiction at its finest—vividly bringing the past to life while illuminating timeless human struggles.
Despite its heavy subject matter, the novel left me feeling oddly hopeful. Chan suggests that even in our darkest moments, small acts of kindness and connection can provide pinpricks of light.
I eagerly anticipate Chan’s future work. If this debut is any indication, she’s poised to become a major voice in historical fiction. Readers who appreciate morally complex, emotionally resonant historical novels should absolutely pick up “The Storm We Made.” Just be prepared for it to break your heart—and perhaps put it back together in unexpected ways.
