By Maureen Tai, 13 March 2020
“Dear Sister, Life was a lot less complicated before they brought you home. Just sayin’. From, Brother.”
The sibling relationship is a complex one, especially in the early years. Brothers/sisters who are co-conspirators, confidantes and playmates morph at the turn of a screw into bitter enemies, competitors and annoyances. Anna and Ben, born three years apart, exemplify this dichotomy. My own sibling experience however, was quite different, mostly due to the large age gap of nearly ten years between myself and my younger sister. The paucity of overlapping years made for a more detached connection, at least in the formative years. In my forays into children’s literature, I’ve always been a little disappointed that I haven’t come across any books that feature the unique relationship of spaced-out siblings (as in years of birth, not mental state) as the main plot. Until now. Continue reading
I was 10. I remember cycling to our neighbourhood kedai runcit (convenience store) in Ipoh, the sleepy town in Malaysia where I grew up. I had to pick up some freshly squeezed coconut milk, a loaf of Sunshine bread and a box of Kotex sanitary pads. The Ah Soh at the store handed me the items, but insisted on wrapping up the box of pads with newspaper before I could leave. I didn’t want to miss the start of Gilligan’s Island so I said I didn’t care if it was wrapped or not. “Shameful mah!” she whispered, pushing the parcel into my hands as if it were contraband. For many years afterwards, her words echoed in my ears every time I went to buy pads, by then for my own use, and my cheeks would burn. 
There are some graphic novels that take your breath away not only because they are so exquisite to look at, but because you’ve always dreamed of being able to draw like the illustrator. The Prince and the Dressmaker is such a book, telling the charming story of the unlikely friendship (and ultimate romance) between a dress-wearing Crown Prince and his talented personal seamstress. And the fashion? To die for. 
I remember coming across a pro-wrestling match on TV when I was an anxious high schooler in Canada. I watched oil-slicked, beefy men-monsters grapple, headlock, punch, kick and throw each other around under glaring lights, egged on by cheering crowds that included, to my incredulity, children. I didn’t understand the entertainment, and I must confess that I still don’t. But a slim non-fiction graphic novel, Andre the Giant: Closer to Heaven has opened my eyes, and my heart, to one of pro-wrestling’s great heroes. Underneath that hulking mass of flesh, there was a man with a soul, a mind, doubts and feelings like any one of us. This is his story. 
Stories That Stay With Us 