The Storm We Made by Vanessa Chan

Vanessa Chan’s debut novel “The Storm We Made” is a gripping, emotionally charged story that pulls back the curtain on a little-known chapter of World War II history. Set in Japanese-occupied Malaya, this multigenerational saga explores the far-reaching consequences of one woman’s choices against the backdrop of colonialism, war, and the struggle for Asian independence.

The book opens in 1945 as the Alcantara family faces devastating circumstances – 15-year-old Abel has vanished, young Jasmin is hidden away to protect her from sexual slavery, and eldest daughter Jujube works in a teahouse frequented by Japanese soldiers. At the center is their mother Cecily, harboring a terrible secret: her actions a decade earlier helped usher in the brutal Japanese occupation.

Chan masterfully weaves between timelines, unspooling the events that led to this moment of crisis. In 1935, we meet a younger Cecily—restless, ambitious, and chafing against the limitations placed on her as a Eurasian woman in British Malaya. A chance encounter with the charismatic Japanese agent Fujiwara offers her a taste of purpose and excitement. Seduced by dreams of Asian self-determination, Cecily begins passing information to the Japanese, setting in motion a chain of events with catastrophic consequences.

A Nuanced Exploration of Morality in Wartime

What makes “The Storm We Made” so compelling is Chan’s refusal to paint her characters in black and white. Cecily is neither hero nor villain, but a flawed, complex woman grappling with the ramifications of her choices. Her initial motivations—a desire for meaning beyond domesticity and frustration with British colonial rule—are understandable. Yet her actions unleash horrors she never imagined.

The novel forces us to wrestle with difficult questions. How do we judge someone who collaborates with an occupying force, even with ostensibly good intentions? Where is the line between idealism and betrayal? Chan doesn’t offer easy answers, instead inviting readers to sit with the moral murkiness of war.

This nuanced approach extends to other characters as well. Fujiwara, the Japanese agent who recruits Cecily, is not a one-dimensional villain. We see glimpses of his own conflicted feelings and human vulnerabilities. Even minor characters are given depth and shading.

A Vivid Portrait of a Time and Place

One of the novel’s greatest strengths is its immersive depiction of 1930s and 1940s Malaya. Chan’s meticulous research shines through in rich historical detail, from the sights and smells of the local markets to the complexities of Malaya’s multiethnic society.

The author skillfully captures the tensions simmering beneath the surface of British colonial rule. We see how arbitrary racial hierarchies create resentment and division. The promise of “Asia for Asians” promoted by the Japanese holds powerful appeal for some, even as others remain skeptical.

Chan doesn’t shy away from depicting the brutalities of the Japanese occupation. Scenes set in the “comfort stations” where women are sexually enslaved are harrowing but never gratuitous. The everyday cruelties and indignities of life under occupation are rendered with chilling clarity.

A Kaleidoscopic View of War’s Impact

While Cecily anchors the narrative, Chan employs multiple perspectives to create a prismatic view of how war reshapes lives. We see the occupation through the eyes of Cecily’s children at different stages:

Abel, whose disappearance haunts the novel, endures unimaginable horrors in a labor camp. His sections are gut-wrenching, showing how trauma can utterly transform a person.

Jujube shoulders immense responsibility, becoming the family’s backbone as everything crumbles around them. Her growing disillusionment and anger are palpable.

Young Jasmin’s perspective offers moments of lightness, her childish innocence a poignant contrast to the darkness closing in.

By giving voice to different generations, Chan illustrates how the repercussions of war echo through time, shaping families for years to come.

Prose that Sings

Chan’s writing is luminous, with moments of unexpected beauty amid the bleakness. Her descriptions are vivid and sensory, immersing readers in the tropical setting. She has a knack for evocative metaphors that linger in the mind.

The pacing is masterful, alternating between moments of quiet tension and shocking brutality. Chan knows when to linger in a scene and when to pull back, creating a sense of mounting dread as events spiral toward their inevitable conclusion.

A Few Minor Quibbles

If I had to nitpick, there were a couple of spots where the timeline jumps felt slightly disorienting. And while I appreciated the multiple perspectives, I occasionally found myself wishing we could linger longer with certain characters.

These are minor critiques, however, that don’t detract from the novel’s overall power. Chan demonstrates remarkable assurance for a debut author, juggling complex themes and characters with aplomb.

A Stunning Debut Heralds a Bright New Voice

“The Storm We Made” announces the arrival of a major talent in historical fiction. Chan joins a growing chorus of voices excavating forgotten chapters of Asian history and bringing them to vivid life. Her work reminded me of Viet Thanh Nguyen’s Pulitzer Prize-winning “The Sympathizer” in its morally complex exploration of wartime collaboration. Fans of Min Jin Lee’s “Pachinko” will also find much to appreciate here.

This is Chan’s first novel, and I’m already eager to see what she does next. She’s set an incredibly high bar for herself with this debut.

A Story That Will Haunt You

Days after finishing “The Storm We Made,” I found myself still thinking about the Alcantara family. Chan’s characters burrowed under my skin, their pain and struggles lingering long after I turned the final page.

This is not always an easy read. Chan doesn’t flinch from depicting wartime atrocities, and there are scenes of violence and sexual abuse that some readers may find disturbing. But it’s a vital, necessary book that sheds light on a dark period of history.

Ultimately, “The Storm We Made” is a profound meditation on the ripple effects of our choices, the complexities of survival, and the ties that bind families together even in the darkest circumstances. It’s a remarkable achievement that heralds the arrival of an important new voice in literature.

Chan has crafted a devastating, beautiful novel that will break your heart and then patch it back together again. Just be warned—you may need to keep a box of tissues handy. This one’s going to stay with you for a long time.

Final Verdict: A Must-Read

“The Storm We Made” is historical fiction at its finest – meticulously researched, emotionally resonant, and profoundly thought-provoking. Vanessa Chan has delivered a stunning debut that deserves a place on every serious reader’s shelf.

If you only read one book this year, make it this one. It’s a powerful reminder of why we turn to literature – to expand our understanding of the world, to grapple with difficult truths, and to find glimmers of hope and humanity even in the darkest times.

Chan is an author to watch, and I can’t wait to see what she does next. In the meantime, I’ll be pressing this book into the hands of everyone I know. It’s that good.