Agnes Chew is the author of the national bestselling fiction collection Eternal Summer of My Homeland (Epigram Books, 2023) and The Desire for Elsewhere (Math Paper Press, 2016), a collection of travel essays. Her work has appeared in Granta, Necessary Fiction and Wildness Journal, among others. She is the Asia Winner of the 2023 Commonwealth Short Story Prize. She holds a Master’s degree in international development from the London School of Economics; her prizewinning dissertation, which examines inequality and societal well-being in Singapore, was featured in the Singapore Policy Journal. Born and raised in Singapore, she is currently based in Germany. The Asian Review’s lead interviewer, Dhanuka Dickwella, met with her for a detailed interview about her tending piece of writing. 

1. Your book explores the complexity of choice when duty and desire collide. Can you elaborate on how this theme manifests in diverse ways across the stories in “Eternal Summer of My Homeland”?

In each of the eleven stories in the collection, the protagonists find themselves facing a medley of dilemmas and are often torn between doing what they believe they ought to do and what they truly desire. The cast of characters includes a young musician who risks losing his place as concert soloist after obeying his mother’s wishes for him to get braces; a woman in her sixties who seeks to find a home in a surprising, unorthodox place; an adolescent and a domestic worker who exchange secrets only to realise that it is a burden they cannot bear.

2. The relationships between characters seem to play a crucial role in your stories. How do you approach developing and portraying these relationships, especially when characters face dilemmas between duty and personal desires?

I was interested in exploring how my characters could perceive and react to the same incident in different ways, and wanted to probe the potential this difference holds to irrevocably alter their relationships. For example, “Garden City” follows the lives of a daughter and her father, both of whom are grieving the loss of her mother in their own—wildly different—ways. In “Did You Know”, a husband struggles to understand the marked contrast between his and his wife’s reaction to her pregnancy.

3. Can you share some insights into the inspiration behind the stories in this collection? Are they drawn from personal experiences, observations, or a blend of both?

The stories in this collection were inspired by certain German words that fascinated me. One example is Verschlimmbesserung, which describes an attempt intended to improve, but instead worsens things. Another is Torschlusspanik; literally translating into “gate-closing panic”, it portrays that familiar fear of running out of time to act. Fernweh—comprising the words “distance” and “ache”—captures that deep, intense longing to travel to someplace faraway. Enthralled by the multitudes these words seem to contain, I began to write story after story—each one an attempt to encapsulate the essence of a particular German word that had moved me, all of which were set in a Singaporean context. In doing so, I drew heavily on my experience and observations from my years in Singapore—from the struggles I faced playing in a Chinese Orchestra in secondary school to the first time I saw homeless people at the airport.

4. Being born and raised in Singapore and currently based in Germany, how has your cultural background influenced the narratives in your stories? Are there specific cultural elements you intentionally weave into your narratives?

I began writing the stories that formed this collection shortly after relocating from Singapore to Germany in 2020. It was at the height of the pandemic, and I was unable to travel back even when my father got hospitalised in Singapore. Fuelled by my longing for home, I began to write these stories. Doing so offered me solace and allowed me, however briefly, to immerse myself in the familiar tropical heat of my home country while snow fell before the window of my new German residence. I think this naturally led to the inclusion of certain vivid details about Singapore in my stories. At heart, I perceive Eternal Summer of My Homeland as a love letter to my home country, a collection of stories born out of a deep yearning for home.

5. When crafting these stories, did you find yourself drawn to a particular character or storyline more than others? How did you decide on the order and arrangement of the stories within the collection?

While some stories flowed out of me more easily than others, I feel equally drawn to all my characters. As for story sequencing, I knew early on that the final story would be “Don’t Be Foolish”, given its length and emotional resonance. “Garden City”, one of the last stories in the collection to be written, became the first story at my editor’s suggestion. That both the opening and closing stories featured dual narratives pleased me; to maintain structural coherence, I placed “Under the Same Sky”—the only other story told from two different perspectives—in the middle of the collection. The remaining stories then fell into place quite naturally according to their rhythm and tone.

6. The title “Eternal Summer of My Homeland” carries a certain poetic weight. Could you share the significance of this title and how it encapsulates the essence of the stories within the collection?

The title first came to me in German. It was in the heart of winter, in 2020. I was writing an essay for my German language class, in which I had to describe my home country, when the words slipped out of me: ewiger Sommer meiner Heimat. Eternal Summer of My Homeland reflects not only the context in which I was writing the book, but also the themes interwoven in the work. “Eternal summer” can represent a warmth from which comfort is derived, and also a searing heat that precipitates discomfort and anxiety. I think this inherent tension is a common thread that ties together the stories in the collection.

7. Congratulations on winning the Asian category of the 2023 Commonwealth Short Story Prize! How did this recognition impact your approach to writing, if at all, and what does it mean to you as an author?

Thank you for your kind wishes, Dhanuka. I don’t think winning the prize has impacted my writing per se, but it has certainly been a wonderful affirmation, for which I remain immensely grateful.

8. Your academic background includes a Master’s degree in international development. How do you approach addressing societal issues, particularly inequality, in your fiction, as exemplified in your prize-winning dissertation and other works?

I have previously examined and written about socioeconomic issues such as inequality in an academic context, but I found that writing about them in the realm of fiction has allowed me the liberty and scope to dig deeper into them. More specifically, by inhabiting various characters on the margins of society and portraying their everyday lives and perspectives, I hope to cast light on these issues in ways that are more nuanced and emotionally resonant.

9. Settings play a significant role in your stories, ranging from Changi Airport to an office cubicle. How do you choose and develop these settings to enhance the narrative and contribute to the overall atmosphere of the stories?

Given that the stories in this collection are centred on Singapore, I wanted to include a range of locations—both iconic and quotidian—that would be familiar to those who know the island city. And so it was of no coincidence that places like Changi Airport, the Central Business District, the Esplanade, Maxwell Food Centre and Clementi Forest formed the backdrop for some of these stories.

10. What do you hope readers will take away from “Eternal Summer of My Homeland”? Are there specific emotions or reflections you aim to evoke in your readers through these stories?

I hope readers would feel moved by these stories, and begin to think about certain issues from a new, different perspective.

11. What is in store for your readers in times to come?

I am currently working on my first novel, and I hope to have more details to share in the time to come.

Excerpt from the story “Home”

Lim Bee Geok was her name—one she no longer used, had no need for. Here, the sixty-one-year-old tried her best to be invisible, to blend in with the ever-flowing sea of people. It had taken some effort at the start, but now—one year, five months and four days in—she had learnt the ways of becoming an inconspicuous wave. It wasn’t deception, for no one could deny that she was, after all, a traveller on this voyage of life.

—by Nadeera Dickwella—