Liminal spaces
Travel notes from Penang, princess culture, water dragons and flying ointments.
The streets of Georgetown stewed in the heat—the kind that thickened the air, rendering each breath a struggle. I sipped cold water from a bottle as we sauntered along, savouring each measured mouthful. Where possible, we took cover along the kaki-lima, the five-foot way that extended out from each shophouse providing precious, continuous shade—in theory, anyhow. The reality resembled an urban obstacle course around potted plants, waylaid furniture, or parked motorcycles.
Many shops remained shuttered, perhaps a hangover from the tail-end of the Chinese New Year festival. Online forums would defend that Penang is not any less vibrant today, but my co-travellers remarked on the silence of certain streets compared to what they’d remembered in their more youthful days. Later on, an Indian shopkeeper would admit to me how things have changed since Covid-19.
Thankfully, Chowrasta Market still bustled when we got there—a near-infinite array of shoes, clothes, food, toys, electronics and various other items for sale.
Still, my camera’s eye gravitated to things that marked the passage of time, scarred by entropy. Stories weigh heavy in sun-bleached signs and humidity-stained walls, a temporarily closed-up stall, a side-passage fully-decorated but strikingly devoid of human beings. These are liminal places, wedged between time and space; traces left behind as if we’d strive to assert our existence in every way possible the moment we were born—but had somehow overreached.
Given the extreme temperatures for the time of year, I already knew I’d lament the lack of opportunity for my usual dérive. Once upon a time, I’d have spent entire days walking the streets. My co-travellers wisely preferred to stay out of the heat, so instead, we hid in the hotel until sundown, where I passed the time crafting speculative poems by a character surviving a cold, distant dwarf planet.
I actually have some good personal news this time round.
A new short story “Anatomy of Emotion – The Carving of Chance – Seize the Moon” is now available in The Utopia of Us, a charity anthology directly inspired by We by Yevgeny Zamyatin, edited by Teika Marija Smits and published by Luna Press. Royalties from the book sales will be donated to the Ukraine Humanitarian Appeal. The authors in this volume are writers I deeply admire, and I’m over the moon to have my story featured alongside theirs.
“The Scent of Green”, which first appeared in Fighting for the Future: Cyberpunk and Solarpunk Tales (edited by Phoebe Wagner and published by Android Press) has been accepted into The Best of British Science Fiction 2023, edited by Donna Scott and published by NewCon Press, available July 2024.
Recent rabbit holes
Judging by its history and politics, I’m now tempted to wear leggings more often as a political statement.
Turns out, princess culture isn’t all bad, may actually help with body image and self-esteem and heal toxic masculinity. (This refers only to one longitudinal study, however.)
I’d always thought dragons were associated with fire, but in a number of cultures in East Asia, dragons are water-based creatures.
While researching the history of witchcraft for a story, I came across this gem on flying ointments. It would be tempting to recreate such an ointment except except that some of these key ingredients are extremely toxic (a plot device I used in “Night Fowls”). Best stick to words, I guess!
All the Types of Science Fiction. Enough said.
May your journeys be unhindered by unexpected obstacles.