Linda Kennedy
I was at Macau Ferry terminal. An amiable young man in a uniform loomed up and asked: ‘Will you take part in a survey?’
I answered: ‘How long will it take? I’m on the next ferry – the high seas await.’
‘One minute.’
‘Ok then.’
The questions were straightforward, ranging from my home country (he even knew Scotland), duration of stay in Macau and what I had spent money on. A minute was indeed all it took. At the end, as a reward for my good-spiritedness towards Macau’s self-improvement, I was given a pen.
Bro, I thought. A pen? Really? In 2016. You even did the survey on a tablet. Just as I was on the verge of suggesting alternative rewards for future survey respondents (say, a wrapped square of sea salt dark chocolate or a tiny vial of rum – we’re all sailors here) I realized something: a pen was brilliant.
I recently moderated a talk at the Hong Kong International Literary Festival, with the Bangkok-
based but Macau-loving author Lawrence Osborne.
One of his books is set in Macau, and called ‘The Ballad of a Small Player’. It’s the tale of ‘Lord Doyle’, an English Lord – or is he? – who takes on Macau’s casinos, and Lady Luck, the dame of chance who smiles upon him. Or does she? Osborne’s been called the Graham Greene of Asia. As importantly, his book introduced me to the gambler’s refreshment known as naughty lemonade.
A friend in Macau, when I’d arrived reading ‘The Ballad of a Small Player’ for both research and pleasure, said: ‘huh, I didn’t know there were books set here.’
I had put this to Osborne. Did he think much fiction featured Macau as a backdrop? No, not that he knew of. What about Asia, more widely, I asked. A new prize called the World Readers Award, for fiction set in, or with characters from, Asia presented its first trophy this year, to an Indonesian author. A good idea? – I asked Osborne. Or wanton positive geographical discrimination? After all, a good story is a story.
The consensus at the festival talk was that more fiction, more writing in general and more awards should be set in Asia.
And so, that pen. Was the research department trying to encourage penmanship and Macau’s literary reputation?
There seems so much potential. How about romantic fiction – Love Over an Egg Tart?
Or is the pen the harbinger to a new SAR cultural policy, which includes approaching established authors and offering an incentive for a Macau angle? Paula Hawkins might write a new page-turner – ‘The Girl on the Ferry’, not the train. Or the two sisters who write under the pseudonym Claude Izner might do ‘Murder on the Eiffel Tower in Macau’.
Or literary association? Could it include speaking to the estate of famous French writers like Zola or Guy de Maupassant, and procuring permission to re-write and reset their famous novels in The Parisian Macau?
On the same principle, why not apply to the estate of George Orwell? ‘Down and Out in The Parisian Macau and London’. Or ‘Up and In’?
And theatre. Shakespeare. ‘The Merchant of The Venetian’?
Let’s not forget TV scripts. A whole episode of ‘House of Cards’ set in Macau? And what about ‘The Bridge East’? A SAR noir sequel to the hit Scandi noir series.
It would promote cultural tourism and attract more non-Chinese visitors – a perfect fit with the city’s bid to broaden its profile.
Incidentally, I drafted this column using the pen, so it’s getting someone writing more about Macau. There was no naughty lemonade taken.
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