My Father's War by Adriaan Van Dis

I feel obliged to read all books relating to World War II in Indonesia, as part of my identity crisis. This novel describes the life of a man whose family was interned by the Japanese in Indonesia, while he was born in Holland and didn't understand that part of their past. I read a review saying there was no point at all to this book - it was just darkness, so my curiosity was piqued. It is such an odd criticism, so unlikely.

Our hero is not especially sympathetic as a character, not to me anyway. I recognise shades of my father's snottier Dutch friends in his tone. He is rude to his mother and sisters, and is fascinated and tormented by the memory of his abusive father. War really does suck and it really does fuck people up so writing about it is a good thing and reading about it is interesting to those of us who are wondering why everyone is so strange. And colonialism really was a mess and we are here to prove it. So it isn't just darkness, although truthfully humour is lacking in this story. I wouldn't say it is a book for everyone.

I am alway happy when I can read novels that relate to Indo culture, even if they aren't especially uplifting or festive. Very few of them are translated into English so it always does feel like being English mother tongue Dutch-Indonesian is even more foreign and isolating than just being Indo. The book also rattled with the tone of Adriaan Van Dis' generation, a sort of bossy Dutch machismo. But then the hero compensates by being troubled so we forgive him the way we might forgive a charming bully. Oh, that's the theme of the book actually, so I guess it works.

It did provide me with some insight into my identity crisis too. Consider this passage, when two sisters are discussing their shared past in Indonesia, while one is visiting the other in Canada. Saskia wants to know how much Jana's children know about their old life.

Saskia straightened her back and did her best to look superior. "And the camp? You must have told them something about the camp?"
"No nothing," said Jana, "What good would it do them?"
"Look at your daughter," cried Saskia. "What does she look like? Half Chinese, did you
explain that to her? You're robbing your children of their history."She swallowed her tears.
"This country is a mix of all colors, all kinds. That's what makes us Canadian."
We were beginning to repeat ourselves.

That is the revelation that I had while reading this - that my identity crisis isn't the least bit different than anyone in my father's family probably had while they were growing up and it is perhaps less complicated (no war and all). Colonialism is colonialism, eh?

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