Bangkok Babylon by Jerry Hopkins (Tuttle Publishing)

Among any of us who have spent time in Southeast Asia, a common observation is prevalent--that nobody is more tedious than an old white guy who’s rooted to a Bangkok barstool. Jerry Hopkins, a man who has occupied many a barstool in Bangkok (and other places), not only disputes that point of view, he refutes it. Telling the stories of men he has met on twenty-five different barstools in Thailand’s capital, he proves his point of view. At least during his lifetime, some of the most intriguing people on earth were sitting in some of the most notorious bars in Bangkok. In Bangkok Babylon, he tells their stories and there’s not a boring one in the entire book.

Only a few of these are ones Hopkins wasn’t told directly by the profile subjects. He never met the man who has been called the inspiration for the Marlon Brando figure in Apocalypse Now, Tony Poe, nor the pianist who played for years at the best hotel in Bangkok and who turned out to be a vicious pedophile. In the case of the pianist, Hopkins quotes the lengthy confession that Eric Rossner sent to a Thai newspaper and briefly describes a videotape Rossner had made of time he spent with a ten-year-old girl. Tony Poe’s story comes from Poe’s close friend and colleague, Jack Shirley, a man who had been a self-described “journeyman killer” employed by the DEA and who worked with Poe in at least one successful assassination. 

These stories are counterbalanced by twenty-two others that are much less lurid but equally fascinating. Hopkin’s best friend, whom he terms an “urban guerilla priest,” is a man who’s devoted his life to the largest Bangkok slum, a rebel who knows how to say the Mass in Hmong and knocks back bottles of Heinneken. Father Joe is a warrior who has battled the Thai power structure successfully enough that the slum he lives in now has a school, a 24-hour medical clinic, a credit union, and housing for orphans and abandoned children. His story is followed by interviews with the man who made Lonely Planet’s guide to Thailand a bible to travelers all around the world and the college drop-out who turned abused elephants into musicians with their own symphony orchestra.

A man who once made his living by dressing up as Friar Tuck and selling advice at Renaissance Faires before making a life for himself in Thailand tells Hopkins “If you’re going to get a story out of me, you’ll have to pull and twist, and then make it up, because it’s not there.” He was wrong. If Hopkins had one religious belief, it was “Thou shalt not make things up.” Disdaining Somerset Maugham as “a predatory gossip,” Hopkins had a thousand untold stories that he refused to write, because, he said, “they aren’t mine to tell.” Every living man whom he interviewed for Bangkok Babylon was given the right of refusal. They each read their profile before the book was published and all of them approved what had been written.

The result is an oral history told by a group of eccentric expats to a reporter who likens himself to Forrest Gump, a man in the right place at the right time, who decided when he was young that he’d “travel the world, meet interesting people, and write about them.” Fortunately, one of the “interesting people” whose story is included in this book is Hopkins himself, a journalist who wrote for Rolling Stone, booked “kooks” for Steve Allen’s television show, had the first headshop in Los Angeles, and was on the New York Times bestseller list for his biography of Jim Morrison, No One Here Gets Out Alive, which is still in print since its debut in 1980.

Of Bangkok Babylon, Hopkins says somewhat wistfully, “ this book may be a celebration of a part of Southeast Asia that is sliding into the past…” Yes. It is—and a fine celebration at that.~Janet Brown

The Red Chapels of Banteai Srei by Sachaverell Sitwell (Weidenfeld and Nicolson)

Take one well-born aging Englishman, with a classical education that has centered around Europe, throw him into Asia, and watch him flounder when he’s not in places that were once part of the British Empire. The intellectual consternation that engulfs this sort of gentleman should be amusing but his excellent education keeps that from happening. Instead pomposity takes over, with rare moments of enchantment that veer on the naive. 

For a prime example of this, try to read Sachaverell Sitwell’s The Red Chapels of Banteai Srei.  A member of England’s hereditary peerage and the grandson of an Earl, Sitwell went to Eton and Oxford and was first published when he was twenty-five. This volume of poetry launched a career of writing over fifty more books, almost all devoted to European art, music, and architecture. When he began to age, he turned his attention to other continents, venturing to Japan and Peru, but never deviating from his Eurocentric point of view.

The Red Chapels of Banteai Srei is a misleading title which desperately needed a follow-up subtitle along the lines of And Other Travels in Asia, since only one brief chapter is devoted to what is now spelled “Banteay Srei.” This is probably a mercy because Sitwell was ill at ease in that lovely place or anywhere else in the Angkor complex. That he devotes only five chapters to Cambodia is a relief but that’s almost enough to sink this book.

Sitwell starts off in a sprightly fashion by falling in love with Bangkok. His time there is brief and comfortable, with a room in the Oriental Hotel and trips to places that aren’t yet tourist cliches--The Temple of the Emerald Buddha, floating markets which are still plentiful and utilitarian in the early 1960s, a night at a Thai boxing match. There he concludes that muay thai is “more serious and less amusing than the Sumo wrestling in Japan” and worries that an injured boxer may never be able to fight again. He’s delighted by the broken crockery that ornaments temple chedis and is impressed by the air-con in a Chinese restaurant that had his wife begging for a towel to use as a shawl during dinner. It’s sweet to see him fall in love with Thailand’s capital, which he explores without comparisons or judgements. Those he saves for Cambodia, where he seems determined to denigrate the glories of Angkor.

Although Sitwell confesses he came to Angkor “after half a lifetime of anticipation,” the heat, “of a kind and degree never experienced before,” and the humidity which “was something excessive,” appears to have flattened his enthusiasm. Although he immediately claims “the approach to Angkor Wat is on a grander scale than anything in the living world” and is later awed by the Bayon’s face-towers, he swiftly begins to describe the “sham buildings” constructed by people who had no conception of how to build a room that offered space. He lapses into memories of blitzed London during World War I and begins to long for the “cooing of doves” and a “wood of bluebells.” If it weren’t for his frequent quotes of Zhou Daguan’s eyewitness accounts of Angkor, there would be no substance to his observations, which conclude with “this is a whole dead city…too big even for poetry.”

Things don’t improve vastly in Nepal, where Sitwell becomes obsessed with the sexual nature of temple paintings. He tears himself away from erotic art long enough to write a detailed description of “a living goddess in Katmandu,” a heavily made-up child of twelve, the sight of whom made him decide she was “wonderfully, and a little pruriently exciting.” Once again he wallows in comparisons to Greece, Italy, and Spain and it’s impossible not to wish for the ability to slap him.

India, since the Empire had left it twenty years before, is a sad disappointment to Sitwell, who mourns that hotel dining rooms no longer serve proper English meals and that Delhi’s “houses with pillared porticos and nice gardens” are no longer inhabited by British families. Except for the brilliant colors of women’s clothing, Delhi is a disappointment but he consoles himself with a visit to the Taj Mahal and the Pearl Mosque, which he manages to view without his customary litany of European comparisons. Jaipur’s gardens, however, “did credit to English seedsmen,” and the Italian lakes immediately come into play when he goes to Udaipur. At Bombay he’s thrilled to find streets with English names and statues of British luminaries which might prove to console him when he discovers the Caves of Ajanta “are now too far gone with age to give pleasure.”

At this point anyone who’s persisted in reading Sitwell’s observations would be justified in saying the same of him. It’s a vast relief when he goes to Ceylon and becomes enthralled with its beauty. Perhaps his lack of jaundiced criticisms are because in Columbo he’s able to have a cocktail. “After a sojourn in India the inventor of Singapore Slings deserves commendation.”

Sitwell, sadly, does not--in fact the only way that his book should be read is in the company of several Singapore Slings as anesthesia against pomposity. The reader is warned, as Sitwell’s Victorian forbears used to say--stock up on gin and limes before entering his realm of boring ethnocentricism.~Janet Brown

Bangkok Shophouses by Louis Sketcher

There are travelers who are perfectly satisfied with big fat guidebooks that tell them exactly where to go, where to eat, where to sleep, and where they will always be securely in the company of other travelers. This book is not for them. Bangkok Shophouses is slender, idiosyncratic, and fits on a coffee table as nicely as it does within a backpack. It’s a book for people who want to wander through the older streets of Thailand’s capital city, while being given an understanding of what they’re looking at. Since these are the sort of people who like to roam around on their own, unhindered by a guide or a big fat guidebook, Louis Sketcher, aka Suppachai Vongnoppadongdacha, is the man for them. 

“Because each shophouse has a story to tell…” he has taken his sketchbook, pencils, brushes, and watercolors to two of Bangkok’s oldest neighborhoods. The first is an area that almost every traveler will have on their itineraries, the historic area of Phra Nakhon that holds the Grand Palace, the city’s most revered temples, and the raucous jollity of that tourist paradise, Khao San Road. The second is less renowned, Thonburi, the Brooklyn of Bangkok, that lies across the river and has just recently attracted the attention of developers. 

Both of these areas are filled with streets that hold architectural gems and other secrets, which are beautifully divulged in this book.

Sketcher’s drawings are delicate and bright with soft colors and meticulous details. He shows the carvings and elaborate sculpted designs on pediments and balustrades, the lattice work on veranda railings, the creative use of stucco and concrete. He identifies the styles of architecture and the reign in which the buildings were constructed.  Strolling through the labyrinth of streets, he finds the diversity that exists in this part of the city--the Indian section, the lane that has been the Chinese trading center from the earliest days of Bangkok, and Talat Noi, a thriving urban village which has housed Chinese, Portuguese, and Vietnamese throughout its history. He shows where to find the three shophouses that contain Bobae Market, a wholesale clothing market that’s been bustling since before World War Two began. His drawings reveal the shuttered Palladian windows that lie above Pak Klong Talad, Thailand’s biggest flower market. And he tackles the overwhelming drama that’s found in Yaowarat, Bangkok’s sprawling Chinatown, plunging beneath its neon glory to point out quieter beauties, including an elegant colonial-style gem that’s been refashioned into a hotel.

Across the Chao Phraya river,  Sketcher goes to a wooden house with an ornately peaked roof and latticed walls that’s now a riverbank cafe and to a shophouse with a concrete facade that looks like a giant honeycomb, within a corner of the city that’s famous for its desserts. In the neighborhood known as Kudi Chin which was once Portuguese, he finds Windsor House, owned by an English family long ago, a wooden house in the style known as gingerbread with a profusion of carved ornaments and “exquisite wooden fretworks above the windows, eaves, and canopy.” And he shows all the reasons why readers should brave the “long and narrow lane” that twists through the riverside Wang Lang Market.

The primary delight of this book lies in the illustrations that are scattered in the margins--sketches of the people who live and work in these shophouses, the food that can be found and eaten there, the treasures that are sold within their walls. A double-page spread of delectable specialties and where to find them, along with an index of some of the shophouses with addresses in English and in Thai, add to the usefulness of this information. Yes, you can stay in the baroque splendor of the heritage hotel, buy sarees in a 100-year-old shophouse in the Indian section of Phahurat, view the river traffic in all its chaotic splendor from the comfort of a cafe in the Wang Lang Market.

Because the text is bilingual, readers have a good chance of finding everything that’s pictured—and because there’s an illustrated list of shophouse styles and examples of architectural vocabulary, they’ll be able to understand what they see. Just in case they might want to fill their own sketchbooks, there’s a list of supplies and paints that were used in making Sketcher’s drawings. A small bibliography may not be helpful to everyone since it’s largely written in Thai.

I lived in Bangkok for eight years and have lost count of how many times I’ve visited Thailand. Bangkok Shophouses has made me realize how much I missed as I walked and stared through the areas that Louis Sketcher has illuminated. I can’t wait to go back--and when I do, this book is going with me, every step of the way.~Janet Brown

The Glass Kingdom by Lawrence Osborne (Hogarth)

Bangkok is where people come from all over the world to reinvent themselves so it’s no wonder that this is the city where Sarah Mullins chooses to launch herself as Sarah Talbot Jennings. She’s arrived with a suitcase full of cash that she received for letters between famous people--ones that she forged herself. She needs a place to hide until the resulting furor dies down and Bangkok, she decides, is a “chaotic, lawless choice.”

She settles into one of the city’s newly gentrified neighborhoods, one characterized by the “affable stability” of “yoga studios and espresso bars.” Presiding over this veneer of hipster chic is The Kingdom, a somewhat down-at-the-heel residential complex consisting of four towers, each twenty-one stories high. It’s the perfect place for Sarah to park her money for a while while she figures out her next move. What she hadn’t counted on was that she’s landed in a community of drifters and grifters who have come from all over the world, looking for their next target, be it another city or another sucker. 

Sarah, with her aura of wealth and her claims of being a “trust fund baby,” is the perfect victim. The women who befriend her are ones who are experts in decodng the nuances of social class and this American newcomer lacks the manners and style of the upper echelons. It’s an easy matter to figure out where her money comes from. All her neighbors have to do is persuade Sarah to hire the same maid whom they recommend and all use. There are no secrets that a Bangkok maid can’t uncover and this one quickly finds the suitcase laden with bundles of cash.

Suddenly things begin to unravel with alarming speed. Political demonstrations spring up all over Bangkok, threatening to unsettle the capitol and launch a revolution. A curfew goes into effect and power outages throw much of the city into darkness. During a black-out, one of Sarah’s neighbors shows up, covered in blood. She has just killed her physically abusive boyfriend. Sarah, steeped in the female solidarity that infects every American woman, becomes an accomplice, and as she does, reality begins to dissolve.

Many foreigners in Bangkok lead liquid lives. They have no rights and they have no roots. Without much language or cultural understanding, they float in a strange netherworld where paranoia coexists with cluelessness. Sarah, “a living ghost,” unanchored by any previous form of reality, finds herself in a place where nothing seems real and ghosts are a common feature. Spirit houses, shrines, trees that are protected by presiding spirits, a young girl who appears and disappears in odd places and at odd intervals, the woman whom Sarah assists in the aftermath of the murder who vanishes as thoroughly as if she too had been killed, the spectral flowers that gleam pale in the darkness of the nocturnal power failures--all of these things conspire to evoke an atmosphere of dread. 

Atmosphere is what Lawrence Osborne is known for and he’s become a master of it. In The Glass Kingdom, he anchors this with a skimpy plot, undeveloped characters, and a shaky command of dialogue and presents it as all surrealism. However atmosphere is almost enough to carry the book--don’t read it at night, alone. Without ever creating a tangible threat, the gothic darkness of a lonely existence and a cloud of invisible menace is almost overwhelming. 

The problem with inventing a new life is it’s as easy to erase as it is to change. Disappeared, has she? Who cares? Osborne, perhaps without knowing it, has written a cautionary fairy tale with a concluding moral that’s as plausible as it is horrifying.~Janet Brown

Another Bangkok: Reflections on the City by Alex Kerr (Penguin Random House UK)

Alex Kerr made a name for himself as a leading foreign expert on Japan when he won the Shincho Gakugei Literary Prize in 1994 for the best work of nonfiction published that year in Japan. Kerr was the first foreigner to have won this prize with Lost Japan, a book he wrote in Japanese. By that time, Kerr had lived in Japan for seventeen years, the country he had chosen as a home when he was still in his twenties. 

Three years later, Kerr established a second home in Bangkok, dividing his time between Thailand and Japan.  Within five years of that decision, he published Bangkok Found, a book of essays about his new life and what he discovered there. Twelve years later, he expanded upon that theme with new discoveries and a different focus, one that echoes the theme of Lost Japan, “the past and what it has to teach us.”

Another Bangkok is Kerr’s search for the “wellsprings” of culture that underpin the “chaos and ugliness” of Thailand’s primate city. He finds a wealth of “kaleidoscopically complex cultural traditions” that were originally adopted from India, Cambodia, and China and were transformed into an amalgamation that is completely Thai. Sri Lankan stupas and Angkor’s towers have become slender and elongated in their Thai incarnations. The Buddha rose from his seated position and began to walk gracefully under the hands of Sukkothai sculptors. The ceramics of China were translated into vessels of riotous color when Thai craftsmen began to use Benjarong’s five colors, bright, controlled, and dazzlingly ornate. Even Western skyscrapers have taken on surprising shapes as they dominate the Bangkok skyline, using the traditional Thai features of teak pillars and delicately curved roofs. 

Bangkok, Kerr says, was rooted in this sort of adaptivity. The enshrined city pillars are based on the lingam of Angkor. “They’re really Khmer,” a Thai aristocrat told him. The Grand Palace, Thailand’s primary national symbol, is a “treasure house” of elements from different cultures, combined into a glorious extravaganza of “exotic fantasy.”

Kerr finds quite a bit of exotic fantasy in his examination of Thai traditional culture and he writes about it beautifully. His essay on the Grand Palace alone is stunning, giving a whole new view to what has become a visual cliche. But in his following essays, his focus becomes diluted. Traffic jams and tangles of electrical wires invade his examination of Thai floral art and a discursion into sex tourism interrupts his look at classical Thai dance. His own experiences in Bangkok are mentioned in passing, along with some of his memories from Japan, in a way that’s frequently more annoying than it is illuminating. Why, for example, are expats even discussed in a book that purports to be about traditional Thai culture? Not even Kerr seems to know, torn as he is between regarding his own kind as a form of beneficial and creative “yeast” in the city or “a hair in the soup.”

Kerr seems to find comfort in the creation of “a beautiful surface” that’s more important than substantial content, a practice that he finds in Thailand as much as he has in Japan. Another Bangkok slides gracefully over its own beautiful surface, a fusion of memoir and research that’s essentially “charming but trivial,” much more like a series of articles written for a variety of magazines than a thoughtful and coherent book. ~Janet Brown

Welcome to the Bangkok Slaughterhouse by Father Joseph Maier (Periplus Editions)

There are few heroes, let alone saints, among Catholic priests nowadays, but Father Joe Maier qualifies as both, although he would vehemently deny that. For over fifty years, he has lived and worked in Bangkok’s most notorious slum, one where other foreigners fear to tread. 

Now in his 80’s, Father Joe entered a seminary when he was a high school freshman and was sent to Thailand in 1967 by his order soon after he was ordained at the age of 28. A young rebel who protested the Vietnam War, this Grateful Dead fan was given one of the “most remote and undesirable assignments,” as his friend Jerry Hopkins says in the book’s introduction. He ended up in a hovel surrounded by a community of hovels, in the part of Bangkok where livestock are slaughtered by residents who are not prohibited from this work by Buddhism. Many of them are Catholic, so Father Joe wasn’t there to proselytize and win converts. His job was to take care of people whose religious beliefs mirrored his own.

In 1971, he guided Mother Theresa through his parish of Klong Toey. She told him “to stay in the slums, where the need was great.” He’s still there.

Every month or so, Father Joe wrote stories about his community for the Bangkok Post, which were collected and published in this book. They are heart-wrenching without being maudlin. Father Joe lives among people who have no time for sentimentality and little time for grief. He tells about them with a straight-to-the-chin approach, laced with a degree of humor and a lot of love, presenting them as heroes, even when they fail.

First he shows the children: nine-year-old Note who was born with AIDS and whose best friend is Galong, a thirty-five-year-old man who was born with Downs Syndrome and is mentally younger than the boy who takes good care of  him; Miss Naree, who at the age of eight, and with very little money in her hand,  took her friends on an unsanctioned outing from Father Joe’s Mercy Center for a visit to the zoo on the other side of the city; twelve-year-old Pim who was arrested as a drug courier, whose life was threatened by the man she testified against, and who was released into the care of Father Joe’s staff of nuns and volunteers.

The Mercy Center is a refuge, a place to live for mothers and children with AIDS, where adults with AIDS who can no longer take care of themselves are cared for, where 250 children who have no other place to live are given a safe home. It houses a preschool with over 500 students, a “successful slum women’scredit union”, a jobs program for disabled Khlong Toey residents, an AIDS hospice--and a house for Father Joe. A stipulation that came with a huge donation said the funds would be given only if he moved out of his tin-roofed shack in the middle of the slum, for health reasons. 

Father Joe ends with a stark view of his Slaughterhouse community. Khlong Toey is a village where nobody owns the land they live on, where a fire in one house can destroy thirty others in a few minutes, where truck drivers deliver livestock and buy drugs, where selling amphetamines for high-level dealers is the easiest way to keep a family afloat. He singles out heroes who have defied the odds: Miss Froggy who grew up in the Slaughtehouse and stayed on as a teacher and community activist, Miss Kanok-tip who heads a group of other disabled women in the Five Kiosk Workforce, selling snacks and soft drinks from streetside stalls, running their own businesses; Samlee whose uncle kept her in school up through high school graduation even though the family lived under a bridge and who now teaches kindergarten, making sure her own children have an education. He never mentions his own efforts.

It’s left to his friend Jerry Hopkins to tell us who Father Joe really is—a man who enjoys a cold Heinekken, who hasn’t “cut the four-letter words from his conversational vocabulary,” who lived in a squatter’s shack for twenty years as he “focused on redemption, the act of being set free, or saved” in this life, this world, not the next. Still a maverick, he told CNN “Buddhists and Muslims taught me how to be a Christian.” When guiding visitors through the Slaughterhouse, he laughs as he says of himself and of “those for whom his dreams were built,” “We’re mad. Barking mad.” But his is divine madness, in the truest sense.~Janet Brown

* * * * *

All proceeds from the sale of this book go to the Human Development Foundation, a non-denominational, community-based organization that gives aid to over thirty slum communities in Bangkok.

www.MercyCentre.org

Bangkok 8 by John Burdett (Vintage)

John Burdett’s crime thriller, Bangkok 8, takes all the cliches you can think of about Thailand and Bangkok in particular, and creates one of the most hilarious mysteries that blends traditional Thai culture with the fast paced life of the 21st century. There are corrupt cops, Buddhist practitioners, bar girls and kathoeys, which are best described as transgenders. There are also  Khmer thugs, drug dealers, the gem trade and snakes, lots of them.

This is the first book in a series featuring former yaa-baa, the Thai word for methamphetamine, user-turned detective, Sonchai Jitpleecheep, the son of a Thai bar girl and an American Vietnam War vet he has never met. His mother refuses to give him any information about his father. Sonchai’s partner in crime is Pichai. After killing their yaa-baa dealer, their mothers were able to get them an interview with an abbot of a forest monastery in the far north of Thailand. After six months, the abbot told them they were going to mend their karma by becoming honest cops. 

The abbot’s youngest brother is a cop named Vikorn who is the chief of District 8 in Krung Thep, more commonly known as Bangkok. Corruption wasn’t allowed to Sonchai and Pichai and If the two friends want “to escape the murderer’s hell, they would not only have to be honest cops but they would have to be arhat cops.” Simply put, an arhat is someone who has attained the goal of enlightenment. 

Sonchai and his partner have been assigned to follow an American marine driving a black Mercedes-Benz. The two lose the car for a moment but when they rediscover it, the marine is alone and doesn’t seem to be moving. Sonchai’s partner checks the car only to discover a large python is wrapped around the marine and is busily trying to swallow his head. There are also many cobras in the car and one of them has bitten Pichai in the eye causing his death. 

Sonchai is now determined to find who is responsible for his partner’s death and makes the claim that he will kill whoever was behind it. As the victim was a citizen of the United States and a Marine, Sonchai is told he would be working with an American FBI agent who turns out to be a beautiful woman named Kimberly Jones and who seems to be taken in my Sonchai’s charm. 

The further the two investigate, they discover the marine’s name is Bradley and finds that he is involved in the trading and selling of jade, more precisely, forged artworks of jade. It also seems that Bradley was involved in the illicit drug trade as well. If it wasn’t for the death of Sonchai’s partner, it would have been an open and shut case of a drug deal gone bad but the deeper Sonchai and Jones dig, the more the plot thickens as it leads to a man who is friends with Presidents and Senators and he is someone who has a dirty habit that’s not fit for print. 

The uninitiated reader may find offense at Burdett’s description of the Royal Thai Police Force which in his novel is ninety-nine percent corrupt with only Sonchai and his former partner being the only two true honest cops. Burdett says in his foreword, “I hope that any Thai cop who comes across these frivolous pages will see humor rather than slight. This is an entertainment within a very Western genre and nothing more. No offense is intended.” 

I’m not a Thai cop but even I can see that his story is full of humor and is not to be taken seriously and you can’t help but want to read about Sonchai’s next adventure. ~Ernie Hoyt

Red-Light Nights, Bangkok Daze : Chronicles of Sexuality Across Asia by William Sparrow (Monsoon Books)

No matter what your standards of morality are there is no denying one fact - sex sells! It’s also one of the biggest industries throughout Asia, especially Southeast Asia which is known for its sex tourism. In Red-Light Nights, Bangkok Daze, William Sparrow takes us on a journey through the underside of Asian countries, exploring their red light districts. 

Sparrow is the creator and writer and editor for his website AsianSexGazette.com. Simon Tearack, a Western journalist living in Thailand, who is also a contributor to Asian Sex Gazette (ASG) says “ASG shunned pornography and blazed a new trail: “sex journalism”, a rare attempt at honest, agenda-free coverage and analysis of actual news events linked to the sex trade and sex practices in general, on the world’s largest, most populous and most diverse continent.”

Sparrow visits the go-go bars and sex clubs in Bangkok, discusses enjo-kosai (compensated dating) and the age of consent in Japan, talks about pornography on the Internet in Indonesia, the world’s largest Muslim nation, and even manages to get himself invited to Triad wedding. Sparrow also partakes in many sexual adventures, for research purposes of course, and writes about them as well. 

He admits that he had avoided going to see the sex shows in Bangkok for years because of what he unwittingly experienced when he walked into one of those types of establishments. He popped in, watched what was happening on stage, then immediately fled. To Sparrow, “there are just some things you don’t want to see being done with fruit or Ping-Pong balls. He also says, “I feel there is nothing sexy about the female vagina being used as a bottle opener.”

The chapter on Japan’s age of consent law is rather disturbing. Japan has one one of the lowest ages of consent at thirteen. However, Sparrow mentions that it is even younger in Metropolitan Tokyo, at twelve. I did my own research but could not find any information to back up his claim. However, I was informed by Japanese lawyer that twelve is indeed the age of consent in Metropolitan Tokyo, but there are all sorts of conditions that need to be met for it to be legal. 

As a longtime resident of Japan, I also want to inform other readers that the term kogyaru is not a contraction of enjo-kosai and gal (gyaru in Japanese) but refers to a fashion style. It’s a subculture where school-aged girls and young women dress in school uniforms and usually hike up the skirt so it’s very short. 

The articles are entertaining and very informative. Sparrow does his best in being objective about the sex practices of the various nations he visits. He also has a very understanding and forgiving Thai wife that lets him indulge in various “sexcapades” in pursuit of a story. I know for a fact that if I were to do the same things as Sparrow, my wife would not be understanding at all and I would be hit with a divorce form quicker than you can say “gomenasai”. ~Ernie Hoyt

Vanishing Bangkok: The Changing Face of the City by Ben Davies (River Books)

Perhaps because it’s a metropolis that sinks farther below sea level every year or maybe because it’s where “the ordinary has little cultural value,” Bangkok sees little reason to preserve any building that isn’t a temple or a royal palace. Within its central business district, old neighborhoods have been decimated to make way for palatial shopping malls and towers of glass and steel that look as though they emerged from a scene in Blade Runner. Modern is already out of date; cutting-edge architecture is what Thailand’s capital yearns for. Every year the skyline grows higher, obliterating this city’s history.

But beneath the high gloss of 21st century Bangkok is a deeper layer that is difficult to find yet worth the search. It’s an underlying shadow city, ghostly but still alive, beautiful but disregarded, threatened by rampant development.

This is the face of Bangkok that Ben Davies reveals in Vanishing Bangkok: The Changing Face of the City. A photographer who has lived in Southeast Asia for decades, he began to explore hidden corners of Bangkok in 2014, launching a quest that would last for five years. In his search to capture the images of old buildings, he turned to a photographer from the mid-19th century for inspiration, a Scot named John Thomson, whose “pin sharp, carefully composed” images reminded Davies of still life paintings. This mood is what he wanted in his own work and to attain it, he found a camera that was reminiscent of Thomson’s time, one that used film and a variety of different lenses. His process of photography evoked old movie scenes, with his camera perched on a tall tripod and his head covered by a black cloth, helping him to focus on his subject. “Just to set up this unwieldy camera in a tripod could take ten minutes,” Davies says, “frequently exposures lasted for up to thirty minutes.” 

The results of his painstaking efforts are works of art. Each photograph fills an entire page in crisp black and white, with startling detail and clarity. His images are haunting and compelling, beautiful and sad. He shows the Art Deco splendor of Hualamphong Railway Station in its final days, before its vibrancy was dimmed by its new incarnation as a museum. Mansions that housed the aristocracy of another era are now devoured by vines and the twisted roots of banyan trees, surrounded by debris or tilting menacingly toward the waters of a canal. A perfect replica of an English country house stands on stilts above the Chao Phraya River, incongruous in its British elegance but not an anomaly. The wealthy of Bangkok happily adopted architectural styles from England, France, and Italy and incorporated elements from China and Portugal in more plebeian structures, which oddly are the buildings that most remain in use today.

The bottom floors of Bangkok’s old shophouses are grim-looking with their doors locked behind forbidding gates, but their upper floors hold the grace notes of Palladian windows and elaborate wood carvings. They still house businesses and families who have owned them for generations but know they may be the last to work and live within those anachronisms.

These photographs are poignant, showing a way of life that will probably soon disappear from sight and memory. A shrine to Kwan Yin that is one of the oldest in the city, where the faithful still bring their offerings and prayers; a grinding machine for traditional medicine that’s supplied a pharmacy for fifty years; an eighty-year-old welding shop where the owner tells Davies, “This is the house where I was born. I love everything about it; a barbershop on the banks of a canal where customers have come to sit in old leather chairs for one hundred years--all are still in use and all are doomed by progress.

And yet maybe not. In the heart of Bangkok, beneath one of the city’s busiest Skytrain stations, are two low-lying wooden buildings, their walls bordered by a wild ganglia of utility wires, their doors wide open to the street. Surrounded by gleaming shopping centers that sell imported luxuries from all over the world, these anomalies survive, bringing a vital reminder of Bangkok’s history to the fashionable, trend-ridden glaze that too often characterizes this city. Perhaps the beauty of Davies’ photographs will bring strength to the battle for preservation that has recently emerged in Thailand. Certainly the artistry of his work will claim the attention of historians and photography collectors for years to come.~Janet Brown

What Could Be Saved by Liese O'Halloran Schwarz (Simon & Schuster, forthcoming, January 2021)

Cushioned by affluence in a city that they don’t understand, safe in Bangkok during the turbulence of the Vietnam War, the Preston family lives in a world of secrets and lies. The five of them rest securely in their comfort zones until the day the only son, a boy of eight, sinks below Bangkok’s surface in an inexplicable and unsolvable disappearance.

His parents and his two sisters return to Washington D.C. without him, back to the privileged lives that family wealth has provided, each one broken by Philip’s disappearance in ways none of them will acknowledge. The father dies, the mother embarks upon a journey toward dementia, her memories “swallowed, ingested, made null,” as thoroughly as her son had been. Bea, the oldest sister takes refuge in perfection. Laura, the youngest of the three children, escapes into a series of Ghost Paintings that have taken over her art. Then an email arrives. Forty-seven years after he vanished, Philip has resurfaced, the eight-year-old boy now a stranger in his fifties.

“It’s always a problem sending a man to a hot climate. You’ll never know what you’ll get back.” Words spoken to Philip’s mother by the man who will become her lover echo ominously when Laura gets on a plane to bring her brother home.

Written with slow and tender skill, a terrible story comes gradually into light, with secrets emerging like fragments of a jigsaw puzzle. “We were trained not to ask,” Bea says to her sister and a woman who had been their father’s colleague in espionage admits that in “our line of work...we don’t tell much. It’s part of the training.” “We’ve kept far too many secrets,” Laura replies, while left with a  whole new one all her own, one that’s “capable only of destruction, that needed to be kept.”

A photograph of a Vietnamese boy is used in propaganda that Philip’s father creates as a weapon of war, naively believing that misinformation passed on to Hanoi couldn’t endanger a boy in Thailand. Caught in their separate liaisons, neither parent remembers that Philip waits alone on a street that’s far beyond the expat bubble, a child who becomes prey in an act of revenge that’s every family’s nightmare. 

Floating in a river of darkness that’s eased by drugs, his body cared for only so it can be torn and hurt by nightly visitors, Philip becomes another person, divorced from his past. Once he’s too old to be valuable to his captors, he falls into yet another life, one that demands honesty and clarity, “like bits in a kaleidescope, falling randomly...into a new disorder and a new beauty,” one that has been denied to his sheltered sisters. 

O’Halloran Schwartz is a master of subtle horror, with an eye for beauty, a gift of gentle satire, and a disdain for subterfuge. In a time when readers most need hope, she extends it in a story that transcends a happy ending. When Philip concludes, “What’s happy? What’s an ending?” his words hold solace, not cynicism, in a novel that promises to be a literary highlight of 2021.~Janet Brown

Tone Deaf in Bangkok and Other Places by Janet Brown (ThingsAsian Press)

Can you imagine leaving everything you know behind? Your job? Your friends? Your family? That’s exactly what author Janet Brown does as she leaves her long time job of selling books in one of Seattle’s most popular bookstores and says goodbye to her two adult sons and moves to a country she is not overly familiar with and where she cannot speak a word of the language. 

In 1995, when the opportunity arose, Janet moved to Bangkok, Thailand in Southeast Asia to teach English. Every two years, she would go back to Seattle and spend some time with the people she loves. On her last trip, she makes a major life decision and says, “I’m carefully planning my final journey to Bangkok, where I plan to remain until the day I die.” 

Tone Deaf in Bangkok is a collection of her experiences of living abroad and traveling to other nearby destinations and is filled with beautiful, full-color pictures taken by freelance writer and photographer Nana Chen. She shares with us her difficulties in learning the Thai language, navigating the city by using local transport, finding a place to live, and falling in love with a man two years younger than her oldest son. 

Expats living in foreign countries are often asked the question “Why do you like living in your adopted home?”. Janet responds to this question by saying, “I babble something vague and incoherent about the light, the food, the people, the climate, and the lack of earthquakes.” If people ask her to go a little deeper than that, she responds with a variety of answers - “the beauty and ugliness that co-exist side by side, the warmth and humor behind the omnipresent masks of smiles, the irrepressibly free spirit of the city that is often regulated, but never with any lasting success.” 

There are many things Janet learns from experience. At a noodle shop as she reaches for the salt on the table, her friend and Thai mentor says, “Careful. That’s not what you think it is.” He hands her some fish sauce and takes away the bottle of sugar she was about to use on her noodles. She learns that black is the color of death and that she will soon need to replace her wardrobe. 

She discovers that women are expected to dress conservatively and do not smoke in public, an idea she finds ridiculous as an American. She was once asked if she was a “tomboy” and answers “I guess so” only to discover later that “tomboy” is a Thai euphemism for lesbian and that smoking in public is what prostitutes do. 

There is no mistaking the love-hate relationship Janet has with Bangkok. It entices her as much as it infuriates her. She takes us on a journey where we can smell the life of the city. Every one of her adventures will make you cringe or bend over with laughter. Janet will make you want to visit Bangkok and other parts of Southeast Asia. You will want to see for yourself what constantly draws her back and what makes her want to stay. Perhaps she will inspire you to become an expat. ~Ernie Hoyt

Available from ThingsAsian Books

Tour Bangkok Legacies by Eric Lim (available at Amazon in paperback and on Kindle)

With all the information that’s available online, who needs a guidebook? Looking for a hotel, a good restaurant, sightseeing attractions? It’s all on the Internet. But what if you’re a traveler who wants to see the heart of a place, the spots that go beyond the Eiffel Tower or the Great Wall of China?

You have a choice. You can wander on your own, absorbing the life around you in neighborhoods not mentioned in the big fat guidebooks or you can turn to another sort of travel guide, one that takes you to places never mentioned by the big books.

Eric Lim is an urban explorer who’s found parts of Bangkok that many of its inhabitants don’t know. Bypassing the crowds of tourists whose phones are busily sending posts to Instagram, Tour Bangkok Legacies makes its mission clear right from the start: “...we won’t be going down Yaowarat Road; almost everyone visiting Bangkok’s Chinatown has done it.”

This sets the guidebook’s tone. Lim’s passion is history and he has spent over a decade tracking down the places in Bangkok where its history hasn’t been packaged and commodified. He gives just enough background detail to add an essential dimension to what’s being seen, and he provides careful directions on how to get there. From temples to street markets, from quirky museums to the homes of artists and craftsmen, Eric Lim reveals a side of Bangkok that’s irresistible and almost invisible to the casual traveler--or the clueless resident.

Carving this confusing city into coherent sections, Lim includes the stories behind the life that swirls around the visitor along with essential information--where to stop and have something to eat. Within the wild confusion of Chinatown, he points out an old shophouse that serves traditional porridge, and explains exactly what should to be added to it for the best flavor. Hungry for seafood? He tells how to reach Bangkok’s five-kilometer mangrove forest that is the city’s only seafront and the name of a restaurant perched on a pier that’s only accessible by boat. He recommends relaxing at a floral museum, where tea and local desserts are served on the terrace or in the garden; having lunch in an artist’s house by the side of a canal, where vendors sell food from their boats; or eating at one of the city’s floating markets while watching a Thai boxing match..

Lim doesn’t ignore the universal yearning to shop but he believes in going straight to the source: where to buy paintings from the artist, where to find the makers of bamboo flutes, khon masks, Thai bronzeware, and silk by going to the communities that these craftspeople live in.

Best of all, Lim tells how to get to these places on local transportation: buses, passenger pickup trucks, the subway, skytrain, and, the supreme choice, the boats that travel the Chao Phraya. Yes, these options take time but they’re frequently faster than a taxi in Bangkok’s traffic-clogged streets--and for people-watching, they can’t be beat.

For an unforgettable journey, dust off your passport, pack your suitcase, pick up Tour Bangkok Legacies, and get ready to explore a secret city. ~Janet Brown

Buy on Amazon

Bangkok's Top Fifty Street Food Stalls by Chawadee Nualkhair (Wordplay)

I'll never forget how amazed I was when I first arrived in Bangkok and a friend took me for my first meal. We sat by the side of a road on teetering chairs with friendly dogs waiting to see what we ordered and ate some of the best food I'd ever had in my life.

But I was lucky. I had a friend who lived here who helped initiate me into the wonderful world of street stalls. Even now, sixteen years later, when I go to a new neighborhood in Bangkok, I'm overwhelmed by the food choices and sometimes by the looks of the unfamiliar food carts. I know the food is going to be terrific but where to start and how much will selective blindness play in my decision?

I am a huge fan of eating on the street. Not only is it more fun than a food court, the food is usually fresher, since few food stalls have access to refrigeration. but I often wonder--if I hadn't been guided by a friend early on, would I have ventured into the joys of street food? How do travelers who have only a few days in Bangkok become immersed in this part of Thai culture?

The answer is easy now--they buy this book. Chawadee Nualkhair has made food pilgrimages to neighborhoods that travelers often frequent and has found places she loves there. In a city with "300,000 to 500,000 food stalls," she has narrowed the choices down to a manageable number, with dishes ranging from fish maw soup in Chinatown to samosas in the Sikh neighborhood, from mussel omelets to pork satay--and yes-- phad thai and papaya salad too. She offers a comprehensive glossary of Thai desserts and beverages (butterfly pea juice anyone?) with a dictionary of useful phrases like "Where is the bathroom?" written both in English transliteration and in Thai. (Essential for those of us who find tonal languages daunting.)

Perhaps the saddest part of this book today is her description of Soi 38 on Sukhumvit Road, which was once Bangkok's most convenient "food stall market", offering a splendid variety of choices as evening approaches and the night air turns cool(er). Providing food for the hungry from six at night until three the next morning, this is now gone in the name of progress

Yet there are also sections of this book that still thrive and will keep even those jaded Old Bangkok Hands happy as well, with food in the Hualamphong area and Chinatown--and maps to make the discovery process painless.

The perfect size to tuck into my bag, this book is my new best friend-read it and eat! Its wonderful photographs are sure to jump-start your appetite--and that's a good thing. If you're here for a week, you're going to want to try all 50 of Chawadee's choices. (Just be prepared to eat seven meals a day--and eight on Sunday!)~Janet Brown

Mindfulness and Murder by Nick Wilgus (Crime Wave Press)

What! A mystery set in Bangkok without a bar-girl to be seen, in which the detective is completely Thai and a Buddhist monk to boot? Yes, that's right--Father Ananda is a man who observes all of the 227 precepts that are demanded of Theravada monks, which means no alcohol, no nicotine, no joys of the flesh--not even coffee passes his lips. He's a far cry from most of the crime-solvers in Bangkok--but then authors write about what they know and author Nick Wilgus clearly knows more about Bangkok than what can be seen from a bar stool.

When a body is found inside a large water jar in one of the temple's bathrooms, eyes gouged out, skin embellished with cigarette burns, and a large yellow candle jammed into its mouth, Father Ananda is one of the first to know. Before taking his vows, he was a police officer, a man all too familiar with the smell of death, and his abbot charges him with the task of finding who the murderer might be, working with the police from the privileged position of a monastic insider.

The dead body is that of Noi, one of the temple boys, street kids who find food and shelter on sacred ground. Like many of them, this boy has a past filled with drugs, violence, and sexual abuse. Father Ananda soon discovers that Noi had been part of a drug-trafficking ring within the temple--one that may involve the monks themselves. When one of the monks disappears, leaving a hidden cache of drugs behind, Father Ananda is certain that some of his monastic brothers are not who they pretend to be.

Mindfulness and Murder introduces one of the most intriguing detectives since Hercules Poirot and "his little grey cells." Father Ananda is a complex character who became a monk after his wife and son were slaughtered in an act of underworld retaliation. He carries his grief and anger deep below his Buddhist practice and the ancient prayers he has memorized; he wrestles with the memory of physical affection and his innately Thai appreciation of good food. He brusquely rejects the tender respect shown by Jak, the boy who helps him with tasks of daily living in return for the teaching that a senior monk provides. On the outside, he is an observant monk; on the inside Father Ananda is an emotional minefield.

And he is an analytical detective, well aware of the criminal mind and the world it thrives in. While set in the quiet serenity of a Buddhist temple, Father Ananda presents readers with a knowledgeable view of a Bangkok rarely shown in fiction--its street life, its food stalls, its hidden neighborhoods--all within the framework of a mystery that serves up a macabre surprise in a coffin and a murderous cobra.

Previously published in Thailand, Mindfulness and Murder introduces a series of Father Ananda mysteries, and was made into a critically acclaimed movie that promptly went on the international film festival circuit and now can be seen on Netflix. Weighing in at just a whisper over 200 pages, this mystery packs more excitement and background information than any of its bloated counterparts. Forget John Burdett--Nick Wilgus is Our Man in Bangkok (even if he has moved to the U.S.)~Janet Brown

Bangkok Blondes by The Bangkok Women's Writers Group (Bangkok Book House)

Sporting heavily bleached hair extensions that were once silky, black strands on a Thai girl's head, learning how to rid an apartment of its resident ghost, finding a future husband at a market stall, eating lunch on Christmas Day with murderers and drug dealers--welcome to the world of the Bangkok Blondes.

They're not exclusively blondes, these articulate women who live in Bangkok, and they are definitely not the chick-lit purveyors that the title and cover of this anthology might imply. They are writers who give a multi-faceted and unstereotypical view of a city that they all know well.

For decades, books about Bangkok have been dominated by the perspective of the Barstool Buddhists, those old Bangkok hands who, to a man, have suffered at the soft and gentle hands of Thai girls and have lived to tell, and retell, the tale. (Notable exceptions to this school of writing are Colin Cotterill and Jim Eckardt, authors who have gone beyond the bar scene with praiseworthy literary results.) For a woman's take on Thailand's capital city, readers could choose either Carol Hollinger's classic Mai Pen Rai (Means Never Mind) or Karen Connelly's classic Touch the Dragon (published in the U.S. as Dream of a Thousand Lives). And that was all she wrote--until the Bangkok Women's Writers Group came along.

A collection of personal essays and fiction with a smattering of poetry, Bangkok Blondes provides an honest, idiosyncratic view of the eastern hemisphere's City of Angels. Jess Tansutat, the volume's sole Thai contributor says in her outstanding essay, The Butterfly Game, "For me, the "city of angels" seems to have just too many angels." She handles the difficulty of dating in Bangkok with objectivity, wisdom, and humor, and then the book moves on--no whining, no sniveling--to other facets of Bangkok life.

Pursuing fitness, braving the language barrier in a hair salon, working as an extra on a television commercial, making it past cultural hurdles with Thai boyfriends are stories that are fun to read but aren't unexpected topics. Examining Thai culture while driving in a city that has taken the traffic jam to an art form, playing the Bangkok version of Russian Roulette by riding side-saddle on the back of a motorcycle taxi, living with a statue of the Buddha that's taken on a disconcerting life of its own, undergoing colonic therapy, braving the wild confusion of Romanized Thai and English that has been thoroughly reinvented: these are all things that could only be written by people with open minds and hearts who have willingly submitted to another culture, and that make this collection one to seek out and read.

The pure joy of a book like Bangkok Blondes is discovering new voices. The frustration of it is longing for more from particular voices--Martha Scherzer, Chloe Trindall, Jess Tansutat, Zoe Popham are all writers who should be working on their very own books. But this is only one opinion. Every reader of Bangkok Blondes will discover her own favorite writer--like a box of good chocolates, this book has a wide variety of choices and something for every taste.