Inspired by philosopher Simone Weil’s concept of ‘decreation’, and drawing on Batak and Christian cultural elements, Happy Stories, Mostly puts queer characters in situations and plots conventionally filled by hetero characters.

In one story, a staff member is introduced to their new workplace: a department of Heaven devoted to archiving unanswered prayers. In another, a woman’s attempt to holiday in Vietnam after her gay son dies by suicide turns into a nightmarish failed escape. And in a speculative-historical third, a young man finds himself haunted by the tale of a giant living in colonial-era Sumatra.

Happy Stories, Mostly was longlisted for the International Booker Prize 2022. 

Mama Sandra

Mama Sandra appears in the short story, ‘So What’s Your Name, Sandra?’ After the death of her son, Bison, Mama Sandra travels from Jakarta to Mỹ Sơn in Vietnam to try and contend with her immense grief and to recognise her role in her son’s despair.

Henri

In ‘The True Story of the Story of the Giant,’ Henri is a university student who, along with his friend, Tunngul, becomes fascinated by an urban legend about an Indonesian giant. But as tragedy strikes, Henri attempts to write another version of the story.

Sister Tula

Sister Tula is a retired nun in the story ‘Ad maiorem dei gloriam.’ After sneaking out of her convent and questioning the life she’s led in service to God, she meets a bereaved father and son and finds herself unexpectedly becoming connected to the family.

A writer of poetry, fiction and non-fiction, Norman Erikson Pasaribu was born in Jakarta, Indonesia, in 1990. Their debut poetry collection Sergius Mencari Bacchus (translated by Tiffany Tsao as Sergius Seeks Bacchus) won first prize in the 2015 Jakarta Arts Council Poetry Manuscript Competition and was shortlisted in the 2016 Khatulistiwa Literary Award for Poetry.

Tiffany Tsao translates Indonesian fiction and poetry into English, and also writes fiction. Born in San Diego, US, in 1983, Tsao has published three book-length translations to date. Her translation of Norman Erikson Pasaribu’s Sergius Seeks Bacchus was awarded a PEN Translates grant and shortlisted for the 2021 NSW Premier’s Translation Prize. Her third novel, The Majesties, was shortlisted for the Ned Kelly Award. She holds a Ph.D. in English from UC-Berkeley and currently lives in Australia.

Kirkus Review

‘Pasaribu’s debut collection explores the way colonial violence and anti-queer prejudice permeate contemporary culture … Rendering characters with refreshing nuance and raw honesty, Pasaribu’s is a promising new voice.’

Anderson Tepper, The New York Times

‘Pasaribu’s stories vary widely, mixing realism and fabulism, but frequently return to an emptiness at the core. They are far from happy.’

Arbnora Selmani, Asymptote Journal

‘Though Happy Stories, Mostly is a relatively slim volume, it is wide-reaching in scope and integrates mythical, religious and cultural elements in a way that is inventive and powerful, “queering the norm” in manifold ways.’

Thảo Tô, Diasporic Vietnamese Artists Network

‘Parasibu boldly takes different approaches to storytelling, from metafictional to slice-of-life, from realist to surrealist. Their stories effuse an impressive and contagious sense of empathy, which makes Happy Stories, Mostly a beautiful and mostly heartwarming book to read.’

Rosie Milne, Asian Review of Books

‘For its playfulness, its ambition, and the way it builds its sorrow-bricks into stories that confront head-on challenging situations and emotions, this is a collection that deserves to be read and re-read.’

‘One of the stories in the book was written based on the tale of Count Dracula. I grew up with countless Chinese vampire movies, and these B-movies have helped shape who I am as a storyteller. I also loved watching Coppola’s Dracula when I was a kid. And, to be honest, it was even more haunting to watch it on TV at midnight when your parents slept in the next room – their room didn’t have a door at that time. What if they woke up and caught you not sleeping, and instead watching the movie’s more erotic scenes?’

Read the full interview

‘Stories often came to me as voices, as in a mental picture of someone saying anything: the way they mouth their words, how their lips move, the colour of their teeth, the colour of their voice, whether their voice sounds angry, or upset, or sad, or excitedly happy. There are secret histories in the way people talk when you speak to them, and in these you will find stories.’

Read the full interview

‘I wanted to bring Norman’s voice, or at least its essence, as best I could, to an anglophone readership. I didn’t want to conform or twist it in any way – it seemed wrong to do that given the amount of suppression and violence queer individuals already face in the Indonesian context. I wanted to steer clear of that at all costs, even if it came at the cost of so-called “aesthetics”. 

‘My favourite story to translate was “The True Story of the Story of the Giant”. I found it very affecting. There’s a frame narrative, told from the point of view of a spoiled and self-absorbed straight college student, a history major, who strikes up a friendship with a brilliant gay classmate. And via this story, we get glimpses of a true story that has survived only in fragments, snatches, through memory, lost due to the colonial subjugation and murder of the Batak peoples. The utter devastation that colonial violence has wrought parallels the utter devastation that heteronormative mainstream culture, represented by the narrator, wreaks on queer individuals.’

Read the full interview

The original Indonesian title of the collection translates to Happy Stories, Almost All of Them. Many of the stories deal with the ‘almosts’ of life, whether that’s experiencing happiness only to have it taken away, dreams that are crushed or ideas that aren’t realised. What do you think of the book’s title and why do you think Pasaribu decided on Happy Stories, Mostly, instead of using the direct translation of Happy Stories, Almost All of Them? 

In an interview with the author and translator at the end of the book, translator Tiffany Tsao notes how queerness is woven through every aspect of Pasaribu’s writing, including the form and the imagery and not just the subject matter. ‘I feel, whenever I reread your works or discuss them with you, they are always yielding something new in this respect. I am always discovering a new queer feature of the stories.’ For example, in the story, ‘Enkidu Comes Knocking on New Year’s Eve’, there’s a flood. Pasaribu said that they find the word ‘flood’ pretty queer: ‘…I decided to open my book with an environmental disaster…that I found pretty gay. And I want my readers to find these little things on their numerous re-readings.’ What new, surprising or obscure queer features have you found within the collection?

Pasaribu was inspired by the French philosopher Simone Weil in writing Happy Stories, Mostly, explaining that, ‘Simone Weil’s philosophy spoke to me because of her lifetime interest in rejecting power, any form of it.’ Were you familiar with Weil’s writing, and if so have you seen her ideas woven throughout the stories? If you’re not familiar with Weil, do you think this has hampered your understanding of the book?

Pasaribu said that music played a significant role in their writing. ‘Music helps me to concentrate less on other things around me. I get distracted easily … and music helps me focus on the mood of the story. I listened a lot to Joni Mitchell in writing the stories in this book. Also, Batak pop songs from YouTube. Joni’s ‘Little Green’ is honestly the soundtrack for ‘So What’s Your Name, Sandra?’.’ How have you noticed the influence of music in the stories?

Pasaribu said that the stories should be read slowly and that they like the idea of readers finding something different on the second or third read. Tsao said that ‘each of the stories, even though there are running motifs and connections, are such creatures in and of themselves, deserving complete attention.’ What motifs and connections have you found throughout the stories? Have you read any of them more than once and found new things to appreciate on a second reading?

The short story, ‘A Bedtime Story for Your Long Sleep’ details the story of Alarm Man and what is, according to the narrator, the saddest story you’ll ever read. In it, the narrator doesn’t understand why they were called a liar for telling the impossible story of a man sleeping for 50 years. Why do you think the narrator believed they were telling the truth?

Several stories feature complex mother-son relationships, with Tsao saying that, ‘The mother characters love their gay sons but then ruin their lives.’ What did you make of the mothers we meet in the book, and why do you think they have difficult relationships with their sons? Did you think the mothers are portrayed fairly?

‘Three Love You, Four Despise You’ tells the story of a man in a small room who has broken the figurine of Jesus off a crucifix. Thrown under the bed, the figurine comes alive and attempts to create another version of himself to quell his loneliness. After reading the story, what message do you think Pasaribu was trying to convey?

Giramondo Publishing: A mostly happy chat about Happy Stories, Mostly

Liminal: 5 Questions with Norman Erikson Pasaribu and Tiffany Tsao

Asian Review of Books: “Happy Stories, Mostly” by Norman Erikson Pasaribu

Asymptote: Arbnora Selmani reviews Happy Stories, Mostly by Norman Erikson Pasaribu