Singapore novelist Amanda Lee Koe’s Sister Snake, about a pair of sisters who couldn’t be more different from each other, and who share a secret identity that they are snake spirits, drops this month, first in New York, then Singapore—just like the continent-spanning journey the characters make in the book.
Early US reviews are lauding the book for its depiction of New York and Singapore—“vivid physical and sociological descriptions bring both cities to realistic as well as symbolic life”—as well as its supernatural main characters, Su and Emerald: “Fully realised as complicated women, the sisters share a protective love/hate relationship all female siblings will recognise.”
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Lee Koe, who won the Singapore Literature Prize with her first short story collection, Ministry of Moral Panic, and whose debut novel, Delayed Rays of A Star, was named a Best Book of the Year by NPR, recently finished a year-long stint in Berlin as a DAAD Artist-in-Residence, a programme that has hosted international luminaries such as Susan Sontag and Nan Goldin.
She chats with ELLE from Brooklyn, New York, where she is based, and preparing to launch Sister Snake at the iconic New York Public Library flagship on Fifth Avenue. She will return to Singapore to promote the book early next year.
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Congratulations on Sister Snake! What can readers expect?
Sister Snake is lush, fast, dark and fun, like a spontaneous late-night joyride. It’s a tailspin of glitter and grime, thrills and safety, dark and light. This book wants to have it all, and so do I.
Your main characters, Su and Emerald, are snake spirits who can turn into women. For those who may be unfamiliar, can you explain the concept?
Animal spirits, or yaojing, have always existed in Chinese culture, commonly represented as shapeshifting deviant women with malicious intent, who are unable to fit into respectable society. In Sister Snake, beyond reclaiming this deliciously proto feminist archetype, I also really just wanted to dig into the practicalities and banalities of what it would be like for a pair of centuries-old snake spirits—with very different approaches to what it means to be human—to navigate a contemporary world, as well as the ancient tension of their indelible bond.
What are some of Sister Snake’s themes, and why did you choose to focus on them?
Authenticity is a big one. When you shed all your skins, what is left? And, an ongoing thread that runs through all my work, a lap dance between deviance and conformity. Emerald, the bohemian sugar baby, and Su, the buttoned-up tai-tai, are diametric opposites and direct representations of that. Not just the surface binary of are you demure, or are you brat? But really getting into it, like, was it societal expectations that made you demure? And conversely, are you overcompensating for something by amping up the brat? The themes of my work are also the currents of my life, and how I unpack meaning. Everything I choose to write about is something that is sacred to me.
Tell us about the relationship between the two sisters.
Su and Emerald would do anything for each other, yet they trigger each other to hell, because their values are so different and even after all this time, they haven’t found ways to compromise and communicate–so relatable when it comes to family. Can we truly care for someone in the ways they want to be cared for, not just through our own lens of what we think they need, however well-meaning? The lines between love, care, control and toxicity can get murky, and I was curious about how that would unfold in a relationship spanning centuries. If you’ve known someone for hundreds of years, does that make you more or less forgiving of their faults?
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Emerald and Su are the main characters of Sister Snake, but New York and Singapore seem like characters in their own right as well.
Place is central to this novel. Singapore’s conformity comes with safety, which Su prioritises, while New York’s energy comes with risk, which Emerald relishes in. This is the push-pull of my own life, and Sister Snake contains my love notes and complaints list for each city. From Singapore’s mouthwatering food to its annoying penchant for punitive signage, from New York’s c’est la vie attitude to its very real dangers of violence. It felt cute to sneak details from my life in each city into the book, from Peter Pan Donuts, my favourite old-school pastries joint in Brooklyn, down to the exact dishes I order at Swee Choon to satisfy my midnight cravings in Singapore.
Describe your relationship with Singapore and New York.
Singapore is like a stoic and dependable secondary school sweetheart I grew up with, who knows me well in deep-rooted ways, yet strongly judges certain parts of the person I’ve become. If I take them to a party they’ll sit awkwardly in the corner, eat snacks, and want to go home early. New York is like a flighty and exciting situationship I can’t get out of, who understands my ambitions and is someone I can go wild with, but doesn’t provide any security. They’d be the life of the party, finishing the wine straight out of the bottle, and leaving with five phone numbers.
How has each city influenced your personal growth?
Sometimes, how a place influences you can be counterintuitive. Singapore’s assimilationism pushed me to stand fast in my own authenticity and not be afraid of sticking out, because my existence would otherwise have been flattened. New York’s individualism actually allows me to relax and blend in, because no one is a freak here and everyone has a dream they’re chasing.
This is your third book. How does Sister Snake differ from your previous works?
Each of my books is wildly different from the last. Ministry of Moral Panic was a pithy short story collection, Delayed Rays of A Star was a dense, modernist tome of historical fiction. Sister Snake is a fast-paced blend of dark comedy, feminist folktale, social satire, and surreal caper. When I shift gears, it’s not just genre, but tone. Genre is a container. Tone is a vibe. Storytelling is my craft, and it’s thrilling for me to see where I can go with it, what I can get away with.
I am obsessive and focused, but beyond a point, I crave novelty. So I explore a given thing till there are no stones left unturned, then head in a different direction. Life is short. What’s the point of treading back down the same path I came up from? Seeing if I can do it better is for the ego. Trying something new is for the soul. I like the freefall. I may get bruised along the way, but I learn so much more, too–not just about my craft, but also about myself.
Walk us through your typical writing process.
Early on, at the non-committal dreaming stage, you’ll find me in cafés or on the streets with an unlined notebook and my AirPods Max. Wandering around, doodling, and making playlists are part of making space for a new idea to congeal. Once an idea takes root, I tend to dive straight into writing, without outlining, just to feel it out. At this drafting stage, I become surgically attached to my laptop, and it goes wherever I go. I cycle in New York, and travel often on trains and planes, so my razor-thin MacBook Air is a boon. I want to have it fast and handy so that in case a scene strikes on the fly, I can bang it out. Once I get deep into the writing, though, I can become a bit nocturnal and a bit of a hermit, so I need to set conscious reminders to leave the apartment and remember I am human.
Do you have any rituals or habits that help you get into the writing mindset?
I do have tiny habits that are supposed to cue my brain into different modes. Black coffee means writing mode; lattes are for when I’m catching up with friends. A serif font means writing mode; sans serif fonts are for texting and emails. It’s like my personal Pavlov conditioning.
Are there any particular authors or literary works that have influenced your writing style or storytelling?
Given that I’m a genre slut when it comes to writing, it also makes sense that my reading habits go through seasonal eclecticism. As I was working on Sister Snake, I was interested to see how other authors handled not just the physicality, but the psychology, of surreal elements in their own work – I particularly enjoyed Rachel Yoder’s Nightbitch, Melissa Broder’s The Pisces, Andrea Lawlor’s Paul Takes the Form of A Mortal Girl and Pajtim Statovci’s My Cat Yugoslavia.
What are your aspirations as a novelist, both in terms of your craft and the impact you hope to have on readers?
When you boil it down to the crux, I think all artists are after the same thing at the end of the day. We just want someone, somewhere, to feel something. Everything else is window dressing.
How has your identity as a queer person influenced your writing and your perspective on the world?
Queerness reminds me of the need to be capacious, and that the struggle to be free involves intersectional nodes that people all around us live through on a daily basis, be it racism, classism or xenophobia. It was a joy to organically populate Sister Snake with characters like Tik, a hot, brown, androgynous female cop who is in the closet because of her job, and Ploy, a sassy Thai bargirl whose working-class livelihood is precarious–characters you still don’t really get to see in books. There are so many ways to be othered in this world, and so many silos that keep us away from each other. Fiction is a space to rehearse what coming together can look like.
How do you stay motivated and inspired, especially during times of creative block or self-doubt?
I don’t force it, because it’s important to acknowledge where we’re at with ourselves. Powering through often leads to larger blocks or doubts down the road. If I have capacity, I may try to inspect where it’s coming from, but if I don’t, I remind myself that it is merely human to go through seasons. Resting and resetting without pressure or expectation for artistic productivity are necessary to prevent burn out.
How do you practice self-care and maintain balance in your life, especially as a creative individual?
I’ve learned to embrace the chaos, but buffer for down time. And down time can absolutely vary: Sometimes it means a nature walk, other times, a techno rave. Recharging isn’t one-size-fits all. I’m still working on listening to what my body needs, instead of imposing what my head thinks.
What’s the last thing you ate in New York?
Ceviche and a margarita.
And the first thing you’ll have in Singapore?
Meepok with extra chilli and vinegar, teh c peng siu dai, and tau huay. Tau huay (sweet soybean pudding) is one of my big time comfort foods, I love it so much that I made it the first item of human food that Emerald and Su taste when they first transition from snakes to women!
Sister Snake is available at Books Kinokuniya and Book Bar.