Leela Devi Panikar’s latest collection is out, full of tales written with sensitive restraint.
There’s little doubt that the short story is having “a moment”. Of course, many great novelists have also been known for their short stories: think of James Joyce or Jean Rhys, Gabriel García Márquez or Clarice Lispector, and in our own day, Haruki Murakami or Jhumpa Lahiri. But writers who have made their names through the short story, who have claimed the form as their own, have received much less acclaim – until recently. The evidence for a sea change is compelling. In the last few years, supreme short-story writers like Alice Munro, Lydia Davis and George Saunders have won a succession of prestigious literary prizes. The short story is no longer regarded as the poor relation of the novel. Its practitioners are no longer viewed as lacking “ambition”.
Malaysian readers have not been slow in coming round to the short story’s charms. Independent publishers like Fixi have made a virtue of publishing single-authored collections of short stories, while their anthologies – including writing from the wider region – offer excellent vehicles for an eclectic range of styles and forms, including the extreme concision of flash fiction. Literary magazines and websites offer another home for high-quality short fiction.
For one Penang writer, the short story is the perfect means of expression. Having spent most of her adult life as a wanderer, Leela Devi Panikar has returned recently to the island, quietly honing new tales and publishing three well-received collections. Her journey into writing has not been the modern, conventional one – no creative writing courses, no cosy coterie of other denizens of the word. She’s ploughed a singular furrow. And it seems that she’s still on the outside looking in, (re)finding a sense of place, constantly refining her métier.
