Today could last a million years.
Today could be the end of me.
It’s 11:59; And I want to stay alive.
— “11:59”, Blondie
It’s Sunday. Along with the upcoming Monday-blues, this blistering weather has evapourated all the goodwill along with what’s left of the weekend. Having parked my car, I briskly made my way along the long corridor of shop houses, and spotted the bookstore I was looking for. Eagerly pushing my way in through the heavy door, the cool air hit my face then, as if gently reprimanding me to slow down and savour the time spent among a treasure trove of literature.
A smile unfolded upon my face as I caught sight of a familiar title – I’d just read it a couple days before. Turning absentmindedly, I caught sight of a fairy-sized gentleman; bespectacled, with coffee-coloured wings. Upon flipping the page, I found myself in a world of satire, penned by Felix Cheong, an artist whose words flowed from blood to pen….
While getting rid of all the sugar-coating our society seems to indulge in, Felix Cheong has managed to strike at the heart of some of the main societal issues in Singapore. A local writer and poet who has won several awards for literature since 2000, Felix has since published several books including Temptation and Other Poems, Broken by the Rain, and his latest work, the Singapore Siu Dai series.
Far from the conventional writer of short stories with happy endings, Felix admits that flashes of dark humour often appear in some of his works. “They often have a Monty Pythonesque cheekiness,” he says, referring to one of his short stories in Vanishing Point. “For instance, in ‘The Boy with the Missing Thumb’, a hardcore teen gamer wakes up one morning to find his right thumb missing.”
While there may be an “Aesop’s Fable” lesson to be gained from this story in particular, each story in his vast collection of written work is crafted to entertain, to induce a good laugh at times, and to take things lightly.
Take his Singapore Siu Dai series for example. Explaining that any kopi addict worth his weight in sugar knows that “siu dai” refers to “less sugar” in local coffee-shop lingo, Felix tells short tales of everyday life in a portrayal of Singapore that is not dripping with the “look, honey!” sweetness put up by the local tourism board. “It’s my 50-cent contribution, as a writer, to nation-building,” he confesses.
Although the stories in each series provoke laughter at every turn, if one sits and ponders the deeper meaning behind each story, we’ll find that behind the humour, each tale questions the fundamentals of who we are as a nation, why we are the way we are, and what type of pills we can possibly take to make it all go away.
Having been an artist of the written word for more than a decade now, Felix still teaches and occasionally writes as a freelance contributor to various publications. However, “writing is not my career per se,” he told us. “I was born for it.”
The third book in the Singapore Siu Dai series was published last month, and can be purchased individually or as boxed sets at Books Kinokuniya, as well as the Ethos Books Webstore :
Fun Fact
Felix has a tattoo of a typewriter on his right forearm, for which he wrote a poem.
Chronicle of a Tattoo of a Typewriter
Father, I have branded myself as
yours, on a Sunday,
a day of rest. The ink,
welling too long in capillaries,
has poured out of membrane,
memories, found its own pen, finally,
a striking expression on skin,
stigma, stamp, keys that deliver
and open your letters, every stroke
like a keyhole to your face,
a typeface I can apprehend,
where my fingertips move to seize it
permanent, as do these lines,
image imperfect. I am as
you have meant me to be.
