The Garden of Evening Mists follows Yun Ling, the lone survivor of a Japanese internment camp who went on to study law and then prosecuted Japanese war criminals. Her desire to create a Japanese garden in memory of her sister brought her into the orbit of Aritomo, the exiled former gardener of the Emperor of Japan, and forms the core of this novel. I was hooked from the opening line - "On a mountain above the clouds once lived a man who had been the gardener of the Emperor of Japan" - and my interest never let up. The writing was gorgeous, lushly atmospheric in places, especially when evoking the Malayan highlands, but more sparse and austere in others, which was in keeping with the protagonist's demeanor. The characters were well-developed, complex, morally ambiguous, and somewhat enigmatic - but in a way that felt authentic rather than manipualtive. This was a character driven novel, slow paced and discursive, which gave the novel a real depth and richness. As well as Malayan history, particularly the Malayan Emergency, in-depth information on a host of other subjects, including tea plantations, archery, Zen philosophy, tea ceremonies, colonialism, and Japanese tattoos was incorporated. I liked the way it left me with things to think about, most natably the juxtaposotion of beauty and brutality. The book was sometimes a little structurally challenging in the way it moved between the three main timelines - WWII, the 1950s when Yun Ling was trying to build the garden, and the 1980s when she was having health problems and returned to the highlands to make sense of her past and write down her memories before she no longer could. Any effort involved in settling into the story was well rewarded, and this book has left me keen to read Tan's debut novel, The Gift Of Rain, the one of his three I've yet to read. 

Beautifullll book. Loved the writing, very poetic and calming. A book that you can read in the summer and romanticise nature.

Every line of this book felt like a poem in itself, the descriptive language was like that of nothing I have encountered before. I left the book feeling like it changed me, and I can't recommend it enough to people looking for a sincere book about memory and processing pain.

I'm really not sure if I like this book or not. I think I did - it was a very challenging read, both in terms of the subject matter and characters, but also just from the formatting of the book. I believe this was intentional, as a way to convey the turmoil and confusion felt by the characters. It was a much heavier read than I was prepared for, but I am glad I read it. There aren't many books on this subject, and it is an important one.

It's raining, and you are sitting on the terrace, with a mug of hot coffee between your palms. You are staring at the droplets that fall on the floor, trying to muffle the chatter in your head. But there is something deep in your chest that stops you from feeling content.
Reading The Garden of Evening Mists was exactly this--trying to find solace despite the palpitations in your chest.

After taking an early retirement as a judge, Yun Ling Teoh seeks solace in the Japanese gardens of Malay where she spent time helping the Japanese Emperor's former gardener finish his garden in her 20s, a time after she was the only one to be released alive from one of the Japanese camps.
This garden is where she decides to reminisce and write down her story before her memory fades, the only thing she is sure of.

This book has one of most beautiful writing I have come across; it's almost ethereal. Such beautiful quotes that will soothe your soul. And apart from this, it is also recollection of, albeit fictional to an extent, the Japanese's reign of terror in Malay, now Malaysia.

I had a three-month-long rendezvous with the book. I allowed it to envelope me in its saccharine prose and sour history, the latter often making me keep it on the side because I didn't feel the need to know 'what's next?'. It did get a tad slow, especially as it's laced with melancholy, but perseverance led to me finishing my first ever Malaysian literature.

Read it when you want something slow and soothing. Keep it aside when you want to, because you will get back to it. The book has such a power.

‘We might be suffering from different illnesses, but it means the same thing in the end, doesn’t it? Our memories are dying.’ says Yun Ling. More than anything else, this book is an ode to memory. 

The descriptions of the natural setting were very detailed and often very
poetic but at times, personally, I felt like they were a bit too much, both in terms of quantity/length and in terms of overuse of similies (I get that similes are nice but enough is enough).

I think there were also too many of what I would call "explanation sections", basically sections that feel more like an infodump about a certain topic (for example gardening practices or the art of tattoos) and they do tend to stick out a bit too much and take you out of the narrative flow.

Also, sometimes I found the time jumps in the narrative a bit confusing and it took me a little bit to re-orient myself and place the episode within the story's timeline. 

I struggled a bit to connect with the main characters (by the way, I don't know if I find the romantic aspect of their relationship really well-developed on the page and convincing) and, at times, I was actually more drawn towards secondary characters (such as the storyline of Tatsuji).

The story was interesting enough for me to want to keep reading until the end but it didn't really captivate me completely. I think the section narrating the experience of the internment camp, though one of the most harrowing, was also the most moving and impactful.

Planejei ler esse livro lá em 2020,  mas só agora me senti pronta e não me arrependo. Talvez antes eu não tivesse a maturidade para lidar com uma história tão ambígua, permeada por beleza e tragédia.

“The Garden of the Evening Mists” tornou-se uma das minhas obras favoritas, entrando para o grupo de livros que eu gostaria de ter escrito. 

A história é agridoce e o que mais me marcou foi o constante tema das cadeias de brutalidade na quais somos envolvidos. Como as decisões de uma única pessoa podem destruir a vida de milhares, senão milhões.

A forma como temas geralmente abordados pela ótica coletiva, essa que por vezes nos faz esquecer que existem pessoas por trás de eventos catastróficos, também foi outro elemento que me agradou profundamente. 

Os inúmeros momentos de suspensão temporal, as frases que muitas vezes pareciam detalhes elaborados na renda mais fina, drapeada sobre a história como uma véu a me transportar para a Malaya, renderam inúmeras marcações e inspirações para a minha própria escrita. 

Tan Twan Eng escreveu uma obra prima que merece mais reconhecimento e uma tradução para o português. Sinceramente seria uma honra poder fazê-la, quem saiba surja a oportunidade no futuro.

Espero um dia conseguir escrever algo tão belo, complexo e sensível quanto essa história.