There it is, the critique of military interventions — of both, the liberal, humanitarian variety as in Bosnia and the neoconservative type as in Iraq. But Saving Fish From Drowning is equally about the individual tourist’s dilemmas of conscience. How does one square the desire to walk through Burma’s architectural marvels when The Lady remains in captivity in Rangoon? Equally, must boycott of dictatorships and rogue regimes include a refusal to cross their countries’ borders and make acquaintance with their citizens? Surely, that would be an abandonment twice over. And when one does travel through these benighted lands, what are the narratives one follows? As they cross over into Burma, two of Bibi Chen’s lot start addressing each other as Rudyard and George, referring to Kipling and Orwell’s resonant writings on Burma. Bibi Chen immediately picks up from these references: “Like my friends, I, too, have found the literature of yesteryear intoxicating, engorged with the perfumes and pastiches of the exotic and languid life. As for the most recent stories about Burma, how they pale. They are mostly distressing reports. The truth is, I’ve always preferred the old fictions about any ancient land.” For all its cultural stereotypes, then, Saving Fish From Drowning is an exercise in acquiring the stamina to hold an unwavering gaze at today’s atrocities in lands of cultural and architectural riches. In attaining this larger vision of the world, bearing with Tan’s implausibly paired characters is in the end a small price to pay.
