: Reda Gaudiamo
: About Us
: The Emma Press
: 9781915628183
: The Emma Press Prose Pamphlets
: 1
: CHF 7.00
:
: Erzählende Literatur
: English
: 188
: kein Kopierschutz
: PC/MAC/eReader/Tablet
: ePUB
Now's not the time to think. Now's the time to feel. A taxi ride, a train trip, a family photo: in About Us, seemingly unremarkable journeys and mundane objects ripple with the repercussions of past decisions. All is not what it seems at a family wedding, a regretful father risks estranging his daughter, and a young woman is tormented by the cries of a baby that her partner cannot hear. Reda Gaudiamo's characters charm, chafe and confound in a series of intimate snapshots of domestic relationships. With twists shifting from the comically mischievous to the abruptly chilling, this collection is a bold slice of contemporary Indonesian literature.

Reda Gaudiamo is a writer from Jakarta, Indonesia, known for her 'Na Willa' stories. She is also known across Southeast Asia and Europe as a singer and musician through the AriReda duo.

Ayah, Dini and Him


1. Ayah1


The rain is heavy outside, rays of sunlight reflecting off the deep puddles that run like rivers down the street. If anyone dared to cross it, they’d be soaked through at once. A year ago, on a stormy night like this, Dini ran away from home, slamming the door behind her. I should have called out to her, pleaded with her to come inside. I could have gone after her, fetched her back home.

I should have reached for her hand, pulled her close and wrapped her shivering body in a towel. I should have told her, ‘Here now, we can put this behind us. We were both angry. Please, forget what I said. Go take a bath before you catch a cold.’ And I can picture her smiling up at me, wiping away her tears.

That’s what I should have done, but it didn’t happen like that. Instead I just sat there, glued to my seat, lips tightly sealed as my fingers gripped the pipe I’d stopped smoking. I didn’t move to go after her, didn’t say a single thing to bring her back. Dini left and didn’t return, and hasn’t stepped foot in this house since that day.

I heard about her graphic design business from friends of hers I ran into at the market. I was glad to know it was going well, that a recent collaboration had paid off. But when it used to rain like this, back when Dini still came home to visit me, she would put out two glasses of sekoteng and snacks made by Bik Nah, our household help. We would sit together and talk, watching the downpour. Listening to the sound of rain was our secret hobby, our favourite pastime. We loved the atmosphere it created; how it was loud and intense, but also calming. Our conversation always ended up on the same topics: art, design, film, sometimes politics and education too.

We made a good team, Dini and I; we were alike in so many ways. What I’d give now to talk to her again, just the two of us watching the