A Review of Four Reigns (Part Four): Rama VII

In this post, the fourth in a series reviewing Four Reigns a translation of M.R. Kukrit Pramoj's classic work, Si Phaendin, we cover King Prajadhipok (Rama VII), who succeeded King Vajiravudh.

The pace of change continues to quicken and Phloi’s sense of disorientation increases; Prem is affected adversely too, losing much of his vitality, in his case deeply grieving at the loss of King Vajiravudh. His level of devotion is remarkable, but not implausible for the king’s personal attendant, Chao Khun Naratana (Chao Khun Nor), recorded similar grief and led to his lifelong ordination as a monk for the sake of the king (details of his life are scarcely recorded, but accounts of his time as a monkg are remarkable for quality of practice.)

As the world experiences economic depression, the new king seeks to reduce expenditure resulting in further changes to the Palace, particularly the Royal Page Corps, which leads to Prem's resignation and then anxiety and boredom. It might have been too much to bear if it were not for Ot’s return from England, basically the same person, good-humoured, uttering his usual quips. As ever, there's banter to lighten the situation, though for modern readers it sometimes descends into the absurd. Among the proposed solutions to Prem’s listlessness comes a suggestion from Phor Phoem, Phloi's brother, for Prem to acquire young ladies as Mia Noi (minor wives). Phloi is open to raising this possibility as a devoted wife (apparently this was not considered so absurd!), though she won’t go as far as arranging it. Having minor wives has long been a facet of Thai society and was still legal at that time, but, at least to modern sensitivities, it's likely to be regarded as an embarrassment or anathema; now that Thai law stipulates monogamy, following the Buddha's teachings would suggest the wisdom of compliance with one spouse only.

Phloi also has to contend with her thoroughly modern daughter, Praphai, but the most difficult experience of all is the sudden death of Prem due to an accident, perhaps a deliberate device in the plot to indicate that his disquiet could not be resolved by the changes in society following the passing of King Rama VI. It create a vacuum into which is filled the arrival of a new reality, in a single word kanmuang (“politics”) and the remainder of the book is filled with increasing sense of tension. The relative peace and harmony in the household (and by implication the whole country) is seemingly disturbed forever.

Politics and the New Constitution

A sense of being driven on restlessly to a new political reality is manifest especially in An. He is now the focus of attention; the narrative casts only shadows, mentioning his long absences with his companions without making explicit quite what's going on. It is clear, however, that he's an activist for the vision he had caught in Europe, “We’ve got men with little competence but lots of family influence together with old men with obsolete ideas running the country for us.” (p.401). It's somewhat paradoxical then that he becomes estranged with Lucille, his French wife, leading eventually to her permanent return to France. She is a casualty of a situation where the tension builds steadily. It comes to prominence after Prem’s death, as Ot starts to probe An, not as casually as it might sound: “Who are these people who are engineering the changes to come?” (p.412).

The prospect of drastic change gains momentum as Phloi recalls a prophecy about the Chakri dynasty’s power ending after 150 years of the Ratanakosin Era followed by rumours of a coup, with An implicated. It’s enough to spark a rare emotional outburst from Phloi and she interrogates her son to assure herself that he remains loyal to the king.

The narrative depicts a complicated and confused situation with the suggestion of manoeuvring behind the scenes until the eruption, the coup of June 1932, and the arrival of Khana Ratsadon (the People’s Party) demanding a constitution. Characteristically, M.R. Kukrit dissolves some of the seriousness (and credibility?) of the intentions by allowing Phoem to enunciate in heavily accented tones, khon-sati-tu-chan, similarly repeated by Ot, but when the coup actually follows the atmosphere is deadly serious — Phloi is even filled with rage on learning that An is indeed involved. Domestic relations are on a knife edge; the skilful and astute narrative conveys very well these tantalising moments in falterings words and half-finished sentences, accompanied by tacit glances.

When An eventually arrives back home, the narrative gradually unfolds the situation as dramatic theatre, with the home the centre stage. The delicate balance shifts in various dialogues; Choi reports the terror felt in the Inner Court, whilst Ot, as usual, runs rings around An with his repartee. Initially, it’s good-humoured, with An inviting Ot to join him in the new administration, but that doesn’t last long. With An recognised as one of the leaders of change, almost the entire household starts to distance themselves from him, until the arrival of On. Soon An, On, and Ot are all together round the table and there is an explosion that barely escapes fisticuffs ... there descends an eerie silence apart from On’s sobbing, the household’s unity shattered. Again, the author is skilful in his use of dialogue and gestures, it’s as though it was taken directly from a stage play.

Thus the reality of politics and from now on the narrative makes abundantly clear that it’s a hard slog for all concerned. I find particularly instructive Ot’s fresh view of what politics is all about — here in the UK we take a parliamentary democracy for granted along with all the debating in the two Houses.

Addressing his mother, he tries to explain simply as follows:

“Before politics, Phi On was doing his soldiering and Phi An his law, each in his own special field, not interfering with each other’s line of business, not called upon to do so. Enter politics, and they find themselves thrown together, for politics is one huge all-embracing fields; politics widens horizons, pulls down walls and invites everybody in. A solider and a lawyer can meet here to work for the common good of our country — our muang — or to disagree as to what that common good might be and fight to the death for what they think is right. Politics gives everybody the right to differ, the right to his own conviction, be he soldier or lawyer, prince or commoner.

Politics is progress, is civilization, is justice and therefore marvellous, some say; politics is a dirty business, others will tell you. You can put up arguments for or against either side. Politics enobles, politics corrupts. Politics inspires you with high ideals, gives you the freedom and the opportunity to fulfil yourself, to enjoy the satisfaction of being the master of your own destiny rather than having masters to arrange your life for you. Politics also sets brothers against brothers, even sons against fathers. Murders have been committed in its name and in its name great and glorious deeds for mankind have been achieved. Enduring friendships have been forged through politics and through it you can lose all your friends, your money, your liberty, your wife.”

He follows it with an image of a pond filling with fish, many of whom then get caught by fishermen.

Politics duly pervades the conversations. There’s no escape, to the extent that Phloi felt there was “too much freedom for her peace of mind.” M.R. Kukrit applies his own political background to pick out particular terms around which he shares many pointed and canny observations such as patiwat (revolution), indicating the deleterious effects on society; even reporting temple boys rising up against monks who were looking after them. Sanuk (fun) is in short supply.

The royalist Boworadet rebellion follows, but fails, and On ends up in prison. Phoem is also in prison for a short while, in bizarre circumstances. The author comments, though, that most Thais were not personally affected. The narrative continues to convincingly add to the spectrum of emotions with deep pathos as Phloi desperately implores An to do something to help, “like a drowning victim clutching at any twig floating by”. There’s also underlying sinisterness — An seemingly can’t help because he is being watched and he cautions his mother from visiting On in prison. The author captures the drama; there is a sense of performance beyond mere narrative, which I think comes from his background in theatre — all the world’s a stage.

[In 1932 my maternal grandfather was a captain in the army and a couple of years before had received the title of Luang Sarayutpitag (referred to as a lowly rank in Four Reigns!). His regiment was involved in suppressing the Boworadet Rebellion and a year later he obtained a ‘Saving the Constitution’ medal. Perhaps he could have advanced his career in the new constitutional setup, but he chose instead to transfer to the Ministry of the Interior and prison services, eventually becoming a tax inspector! He preferred a quiet and peaceful life.]

The influence of politics weighs heavily on Phloi on her family. The narrative dwells on On’s predicament: he is sentenced to execution, but it’s commuted (and eventually he is released). It’s also an occasion for Phloi to reflect on the realities of life they have thrown up, on the growing divisions within the family and the fickle nature of some friendships. She has to experience some humiliation as she visits On in prison, travelling up the Chao Phraya by boat, and to add to the gloom she observes the diminished status of princely homes, many now pale shadows of their former glory.

King Prajadhipok leaves for Europe, never to return, eventually abdicating in March 1935, as he was unable to come to an agreement with the new government. Ot comments that democracy has lost “one of its staunchest champions”. By consistently making Ot the voice of reason, the author has effectively made a strong statement about the nature of the transition to democracy and it’s not very complimentary!

In fact in his brief abdication statement, the king declared:

I am willing to surrender the powers I formerly exercised to the people as a whole, but I am not willing to turn them over to any individual or any group to use in an autocratic manner without heeding the voice of the people.

A king abdicating was unprecedented, a prelude to yet more high drama in the next reign...

A Review of Four Reigns (Part Three): Rama VI

This is the third of a series of posts reviewing Four Reigns, a translation of Si Phaendin, a Thai classic of historical fiction by M.R. Kukrit Pramoj. Following on from the reign of King Chulalongkorn (Rama V), we come to his successor, King Vajiravudh (Rama VI). I’m including quite a few quotes here, but only including page numbers for the longer ones — perhaps I’ll add others later.

For Phloi, no king after Chulalongkorn (Rama V) could occupy a place in her heart to the same degree. Perhaps this is why 250 pages are devoted to crafting a detailed illumination of palace life under this monarch, whereas life under his successor to the throne, King Rama VI, has about half that, Rama VII has about 70 pages and Rama VIII about 130 pages. However, these reigns actually witness considerably more drama, depicting far-reaching social and cultural changes.

International Awareness

Almost immediately during the new reign there’s the first major upheaval for Phloi as Sadet, her sponsor and guardian at the Inner Court, passes away. As a literary device it signals change in the manner of occupation in the Grand Palace: with the new king choosing not to reside there, many royal residents were moving out of the Inner Court, leaving behind empty spaces to gather dust and allow general decay, a theme reiterated in various places. The author is adept at describing change of mood and tempo; if this were adapted to Western classical music, perhaps it would be played in a minor key.

However, whilst often describing the loss M.R. Kukrit does not dwell very much on why this came about and relates matters quite indirectly, barely offering more than hints. The author point to the reason in a concise but disconnected summary of the situation, voiced through Khun Prem, Phloi’s husband, who speaks in rather dismissive tones in regards to the elder ladies of the Inner Court: 


"Tell Choi not to listen too much to these old women or she’ll get to be like them. They have nothing to do so they tittle-tattle all day long. The Rise and Fall of Royal Favourites — that has always been one of their pet themes. But this reign is not going to have several Queens and hundreds of Chao Choms [consorts]. He’s lived abroad and among farang Royals. It’s going to be just one wife for him.”
(p.338)

I didn’t find any further explanation in the text, but evidently living abroad had persuaded the new king to embrace the institution of marriage according to western norms, thereby largely removing the raison d’être of the Inner Court. It might be surmised that this was a form of rapprochement with the west, an act designed to give the appearance that Thailand was indeed ‘civilised’ and not primitive. There’s no direct comment on how that was regarded, but there’s scepticism about what it meant in practice: a quote from a dedicatory poem by King Rama VI about constancy is juxtaposed in the text with the break-off of his engagement with the lady in question, the fickle nature of the commitment reiterated later with the use of “rise” and “fall”. The author is more forthcoming on growing nationalism, which may well have been similarly motivated in terms of international relations — hence all provinces being “Thai” (and thereby negating, for example, “Lao” in the North).

Sadet’s passing also marked an important transition for Phloi as she takes on the responsibility of an elder. This is stated quite pointedly, probably deliberately by the author: an honourable citizen takes due responsibility of their charges. And in the midst of momentous change and people falling on hard times — “Khun Choei [a half-sister] living in a shophouse” (very normal for Thais, but not the aristocracy!) — she maintains contact with family and close friends, relationships which become even more treasured. The transition into adulthood also allows far greater definition of her character and indeed those around her.

Khun Phrem rises up the ranks rapidly and works in the Palace (at Dusit), promoted to rank of “Phra” and later to ”Phraya”. There’s a different rhythm as he becomes much involved in the new court, with strong farang influences in manner and dress: Phloi reluctantly accedes to long hair, white teeth for that samai mai (“modern”) look. Certain other phrases are adopted to keep moving with the times including sivilai (“civilised living”) and Samakhom (“society”), involving a range of new activities, including khon theatre. The author describes these changes more pointedly than under Rama VI’s predecessor by expressing Phloi’s lack of familiarity, occasional bemusement and even astonishment, yet still she is loyal, trusting in Nai Luang’s wisdom. What with Phoem’s eccentric hobbies (such as potted topiary trees, which apparently some monks are experts in too, she is the main anchor.

In what appears to be a period of material indulgence, there arrives a chauffeur-driven car, which Phloi happily embraces, but in a far more circumspect way that her husband; and she’s not so enamoured by his periods of excess and estrangement as he becomes absorbed by Samakhom. Phrem is particularly absorbed by the Wild Tiger Corps (Thai: กองเสือป่า), which was the personal paramilitary organisation devoted to the King, performing with the Cavalry branch. So it’s in this period that Phloi naturally becomes closer to the children. What’s particularly remarkable about Phloi is her sense of tact. Even when holding strong feelings she avoids potential arguments, she chooses her words and tone of voice carefully. (The Wild Tiger Corps had a junior division, Leuk Seua (“Tiger Cubs”), which is the Thai word for ‘Boy Scouts’; it became a source of amusement for my mother when I happened to name my scout patrol Tigers without realising the connection.)

Farang Influence

It is during this reign that Farangs have a greater presence in person, marked by they appearance at functions and in a professional capacity. The Farang way earns some respect in the delivery of Phloi’s last child, which had developed complications. It was attended to by a Western doctor, who is credited by Phrem and Phloi as saving her life. The Westerners seem to slip into the narrative as though this was an inevitable facet of development, without a clear sense of how and why. This also brings with it a general backdrop of anxiety on the international front, expressed by Phrem: “Our country is developing fast. Those who are not well-educated will soon lag behind.” (p.293).

World War I breaks out, and whilst Thailand is not greatly involved in the conflict, it suffers the economic repercussions. The encounter with the world is, of course, not new, and there has been turbulence before, particularly in the late 17C, during the reign of King Phra Narai the Great, a period that I have found fascinating to explore.

Through a series of chatty letters from Ot, the youngest son, we gain an amusing Thai perspective of life in England — the weather, food, routines and customs — though it’s mainly through the lens of a very privileged life in a boarding school and then Oxbridge. Many of these experiences resonate with those of my mother: Ot’s initial rejection of English food echoes her considerable difficulty she had initially with the ‘international cuisine’ at the hostel of the Institute of Education, her first accommodation in the UK. She found everything, including breakfast, unpalatable without adding generous quantities chilli powder that she carried with her in a tin.

Ot generally fares well in studies (I note with interest that he’s already ahead in maths), but struggles with Latin, not surprising as its grammar is far more sophisticated than Thai! But his temperament enables him to get along generally fine, particularly as he can readily tolerate and appreciate other people and their traditions and share elements of his own culture. This extends to religion: in the prevailing Christian faith, he comes to enjoy hymns, but still retains his devotion to the Buddha, quietly reciting at night a few chants taught by his mother (in hindsight I realise my mother when faced with my being brought up Catholic used the same approach, teaching the recitation of a few words taking refuge in the Triple Gem). Similarly Phloi’s packing of food supplies for shipping reminds me of one particular frequent Thai visitor who would bring a whole suitcase of food every time she came to stay.

Family Cohesion and Political Breezes

A recurrent theme in the narrative is family coherence acting as a buttress in respect to external change. As Phloi’s growing family wanders off, sometimes in directions that veer towards separation, members of her childhood family from Khlong Bahn Luang pop up as a kind of stabilising influence, sometimes unexpectedly: the arrival of Khun Un, her fierce elder half-sister, astonishes everyone when she shows contrition and seeks reconciliation. The author makes clear it’s only possible because of Phloi’s impeccable behaviour.

Phloi struggles with modernity, but M.R. Kukrit illustrates this with characteristic levity, describing in a comical way her confusion at the theatre in which the king himself is acting (before he ascended to the throne, Prince Vajiravudh read literature at Christ Church, Oxford). As ever, she finds the positive, seeing a close resemblance between Nai Luang and the late Queen Mother (who had been Regent whilst King Chulalongkorn had been overseas). On the other hand, a more serious side to modernity drifts over from Europe as Ot becomes concerned about his brother, An, who is“up in the clouds thinking cloudy thoughts” in France. An himself, starts expressing his concern for Thailand as being “backward” and needing to “advance”, and missing the principles of “equality before the law” and other political aspirations. Later on Ot shares some of his own impressions of An’s friends, including a stark description of the Farangs, who have “hollow cheeks, uncombed hair and wild eyes.” Such imagery of revolutionaries is really quite the opposite to Thai sabai sabai.

Khun Prem, who remains in Thailand, is initially impressed by the ideas expressed by An, confident that they have the approval of King Rama V, relating some of the initiatives the king has himself taken, whilst adding a rider:

“He’s introducing new ideas to us, but he also says it will take time, that it has to be done gradually, cautiously, otherwise they will do more harm than good.”
(p.349)

I suspect this is a message the author is keen to communicate, a flag ahead of the following continuation. Phloi evidently can’t make sense of the politics, so limits her perspective to what she observes in behaviour: she struggles with the growing individual freedoms of young men and women — liberties that she finds hard to accept.

There is some comment on the extravagance lifestyles of that period, which historians often pick up on as a precursor to unrest; Prem is seen as embracing the latest trends and fashions at considerable expense, going through phases, one of which involves spending a fortune on collecting walking sticks. M. R. Kukrit, no doubt very aware of this, having already described the king’s interest in broader government inserts quite a lengthy and somewhat defensive passage to make such behaviour sound respectable in the wider scheme of things:

“The gentlemen and ladies of the court set the style in everything… they were admired, and praised and looked up to … but resented, generally speaking, they were not. In those days of peace and plenty, the sense of well-being was pervasive enough to give the whole society a genial atmosphere free from tension and jealousy.” (p.356)

This is echoed through Ot’s comparative reflections, observing that the poor in England suffer much more than the poor in Thailand because of the natural environment. Inequality per se was not a problem. Through Prem, the author goes on to describe the court as very open and accessible because of the king, “the soul of broadmindedness and … of sympathy and generosity.” Phloi even compares his generosity to that of Prince Vessantara in the Jataka tales of the Buddha, a very popular text in Thailand. (Some modern scholars tend to describe this as lavishing on his own followers, but the text suggests a more universal generosity.)

The shifting cultural and political landscape seems largely contained until An’s return, when the first seismic activity is felt by Phloi: without any forewarning, she is introduced to An’s wife, Lucille (a maem, that is a farang wife), the acute awkwardness comically described through the simple act of greeting. It’s a culture clash so marked as to make all the relatives quietly withdraw from the scene, leaving the stunned Phloi having to cope by herself.

The situation is challenging enough to endure for days and weeks, provoking sleeplessness and rare argumentative exchanges between Prem and Phloi; they are both evidently extremely uncomfortable and somewhat exasperated by it all to begin with, but whilst Prem loses his temper, Phloi, retains the grace not to. As ever, the author lightens the troubling circumstances by witty narrative and comical timing. It’s also informative, offering a fascinating consideration of attitudes on the mixing of East and West. He delights his mother by saying that he had no trouble socially when he behaved politely according to his upbringing at home. (Being half-Thai, half-Farang myself, my interest is piqued by Ot’s reflection — the perception of the exotic East compared with the reality of mosquitoes and other wildlife and the generally different tastes; mix with care! The phrase Muang Thai is used often in this context, as distinct from the politicised national identity of Phrathet Thai.)

Phloi had to contend with growing changes in the behaviour of youth, much to do with their external appearance, all the while trying to retain a sense of continuity — probably a key message that the author wishes to impart. Seeing that his mother is cautious about the change, An remarks, “There have been a lot of changes since the war, and more changes are in the offing.”

The reign ends unexpectedly with the king suddenly taken ill. His departure leaves an air of uncertainty.



Next: Rama VII

A Review of Four Reigns (Part Two): Rama V

This is the second of a series of posts reviewing Four Reigns, a translation of Si Phaendin, a Thai classic of historical fiction by M.R. Kukrit Pramoj. My first post provided some background (and why I’m particularly interested in this work).

Here I focus on the part of the story that took place during the reign of King Rama V (Chulalongkorn) from the 1880s through to his passing in 1910. I’ll start by listing some of the characters. Fortunately, it’s not a cast of thousands and most characters have more than a few lines to say, so I found it fairly easy to remember who’s who. I’ll include a few names in Thai for those who can read the language; you can’t readily guess the sound because the Romanized phonetics are not actually in accordance with any formal standard and there’s no indication of tones! I’ll also add some page numbers (as found in the Silkworm Books edition). For a non-Thai speaker wishing to read some Thai, particularly social media comments, I recommend thai2english.com over Google as it generally conveys a better sense of the meaning.

The story starts with Phloi (Thai: พลอย), the main character, and her family in Khlong Bang Luang, where she has spent the first years of her childhood. As is typical of a middle- or high- class household, the family is extended and occupies a plot of land with a number of houses, the main one for the most senior members without outlying buildings for other members. Phloi's father is 
Phraya Piphit (Thai: พระยา พิพิธ), a nobleman of senior rank who initially comes over as somewhat remote and constrained by formality as Phloi doesn't live in the main house, whereas Mae Chaem (Thai: แช่ม), Phloi’s mother, is with her constantly and far more approachable. We are also introduced to Phor Phoem (Thai: เพิ่ม), Phloi’s brother and other siblings who share the same father but have a different mother, who left a long time ago. Although the novel barely touches on Phloi’s early life there, it’s fleeting appearance passing somewhat in a blurred vision, the family members continue to feature throughout the narrative.

Entering the Inner Court of the Grand Palace

There’s a natural nostalgia for the earliest experiences in our lives and this is especially so for Phloi with her years in the Grand Palace. Life in the Inner Court is a close-knit community, where Phloi is nourished with loving support. Once the rules are understood, exploring its extensive spaces becomes a wonderful adventure, full of vitality, with interesting places and characters. We witness curious noises, exquisite food, exciting cultural events, technological innovation, and, of course, plenty of sanuk (fun), all described in intimate detail. Some of the ceremonies, such as Loy Krathong, are well-known, but here they are unparalleled in grandeur.

Within the well-established patterns of the palace, under the benevolent custodianship of Sadet, Phloi adopts a strict dress code, wearing different-coloured fabrics (phalai) for each day; she studies and learns various duties and handicrafts as befits her station. She cultivates qualities of virtue; the values of respect and service emerge strongly, with the king, Nai Luang, at the heart. Using Phloi as the eyes onto this world has the effect of making it seem that everything really revolves around Phra Chao Yu Hua (His Majesty), “our Lord of Life”, as though it is his grace that bestows everything that matters. This kind of language, which sounds almost theological, is characteristic of the way the king is viewed as divine. Even his trips abroad and the resulting novelties are framed within a sense of overall continuity, steadily building up a picture of constancy and ‘rightness’. Whether or not intentional, it’s evidently an effective device to inculcate krap (respect and reverence), a practice generally encouraged towards teachers.

But part of M.R. Kukrit’s skill is bringing in levity where tradition and formality might stifle a free-flowing narrative. Accordingly, there to guide and accompany her are the housekeeper, Aunt Sai, and Choi, a girl of her own age, kind-hearted but rumbustious, a natural foil for the more refined nature of Phloi; they get along easily and soon become best friends, forming a lifelong relationship. The sense of humanity is further enriched as the author relates how even to a child it’s not all sweetness and light, as Phloi hears about ambition and rivalry, particularly among minor royals and their entourages.

And Phoi’s world continues to expand with trips to other homes in other parts of the city. These are opportunities for the author to gently extol desirable qualities; Choi’s family is “a house where children found in their parents not only respected elders but loving friends and genial companions, and where servants, treated with sympathetic fairness, had become part of the family.” There are also special occasions outside the palace, especially the idyllic Bang Pa-In (known also as the Summer Palace), which remains to this day a popular visitor attraction. These outings are typically occasions that invite earthy humour and comical scenes, usually tied to food, sometimes accompanied by music, frequently involving a piphat ensemble. This is a tradition that still exists today, see, for example, a performance by an orchestra at the Siam Society (note that it is missing a wind instrument, the pi nai, a kind of oboe — see another ensemble that it includes it). There is also a variant that includes a female singer, of which there’s old archive footage.

A Historical Perspective

Four Reigns is valuable simply as a historical guide, introducing many of the refined modes of behaviour in the palace — in some respects the accounts of the Inner Court are like touring an exhibition of fine art, highbrow and informative. We also learn about literary traditions, such as the phleng yao, a form of ode that was in particular used for some prophecies uttered centuries earlier. Furthermore, it’s all artistically presented in a rich tapestry of imagery — like a leisurely cruise along the Chao Phraya river, the reader should just go with the flow to enjoy the rich experience. This resonates with my mother’s experience: as a child she would accompany her father to visit his boss’s family, spending hours rapt in attention listening to an aristocratic lady, who had been a member of the royal household, as she described the people, their manner of dress, and other cultivated customs and habits. Although the reign of Rama V fills far more pages than any other reign, many of these pages contribute relatively little to the plot. The pace is quite slow, perhaps deliberately so, allowing readers time to linger on details, absorbing scenes of yesteryear.

Phloi experiences her first serious romance with Nuang, Choi’s brother, but it’s not destined to be. Against the ambitions of some royals and aristocrats, M. R. Kukrit often slips in something of a leveller, be it an incident back at the family home, the popular observance of folk beliefs, or even by putting thoughts into Phloi’s head such as the following kind consideration of Nuang and his father, Khun Luang: “it seemed to her that their lack of ambition might well be what had made them so happy, and not only happy in themselves, but able to dispense so much happiness to others.” (p. 116). Nuang subsequently proves weak-willed and ends up obliged to marry a local girl in Nakhon Sawan. It’s at this stage that Phloi’s character grows in the narrative; in her response, she shows extraordinary compassion, “There’s enough suffering in this world and we shouldn’t add to it, Choi.” It moves the angry Choi to krab Phloi.

Gradually we are introduced to the sense of external worlds, with reference to farang (Western/European) cultural influences with the occasional mention of European heads of state; and later, the arrival of European technology and industry together with their strange modes of behaviour and dress. These propel elements of modernisation, generally light at first, for changes during this reign feel more like a subtle inflection rather than being pronounced or having major impact. They include Western medicine, but when such foreign items become scarce, we see the Thais returning to their traditional means — they’re not lost, just waiting to be restored so that once again the local doctor is in demand for administering local medicines; this need for fallback to local practice is a theme that recurs throughout the story.

European input to industrial development included the invention of the bicycle and the supply of trains for the new railways, which started in the 1890s. There are accounts of the king’s travel by train from Hua Lamphong; the subsequent descriptions of the journey show similar responses among passengers to those first passengers in England in early 19C — a mixture of awe and trepidation at the breathtaking speeds! The platforms offered ample occasion for neat rows of military and other officials (and in fact they’re still lining up for vintage steam trains today).

But against this backdrop of industrial progress, there are various echoes of the past, including encounters with ghosts (preta), particularly at Dusit Palace and Vimanmek (‘Abode in the Clouds’), where the king demonstrates his camaraderie by meeting village friends from ‘up country’ in a traditional wooden house, to foster sharing on an equal level. And there are quite a few opportunities to poke fun; farang are not exempted — whether by imitating their swimming style or royals becoming feverish and uttering “disjointed phrases in the farang language”.

The latter part of the reign features Phloi maturing as she gets married to Prem, a royal page who has been patiently courting her for a long time, not put off by her initial lack of interest. It's an arranged marriage, not Phloi's choice, but she consents dutifully and does her best to make the marriage a success.

Her adulthood really seems to begin in earnest as she has her first child and then accelerate at the death of her father and then the king. Phloi joins large crowds paying their last respects in the streets of Ratchadamnoen Avenue, showing a strong connection between the monarchy and members of the public. (My grandparents used to have a house there, but they weren’t rich: my aunts used to study with the aid of street lamps or else by candle light; then with a growing family, shortly after my mother was born, they moved across to the other side of the river to Thonburi, where land was more affordable.)

In the next post, I'll reflect on developments during the reign of King Rama VI.

A Review of Four Reigns by M.R. Kukrit Pramoj

I’ve just finished reading Four Reigns, a translation from Thai into English of Si Phaendin (Thai สี่แผ่นดิน,) by M.R. Kukrit Pramoj, published by Silkworm Books. It happened to be the first Amazon recommendation that I took any notice of and hence I bought a copy from their store. Funny how I didn’t know about it, especially as I have for some while been pondering building a small traditional Thai house inspired by his family home in the centre of Bangkok, now a museum.

In fact, M.R. Kukrit, who is widely regarded as a Renaissance man, was admired by my mother, particularly for his sharp observations on society. Her siblings and others in the family household were likewise impressed and more recently one of my cousins got married in M.R. Kukrit’s home (heritage house was evidently available for hire for private functions :-) So, with a keen interest to learn what this literary maestro has to say, I’ve decided to write a review with occasional reference to my mother’s background, whose biography, The Life and Work of Fuengsin Trafford, I published in 2016. I’ll focus more on the content that style as English literature was never my forte! As this is going to be lengthy, I shall serialise my posts, mimicking the process by which the novel itself was originally published in a newspaper.

Context

The Four Reigns is a historical novel based on the experiences of the author and his connections in what may be regarded as a bygone age — Mom Rajawongse is a title indicating that he is a royal descendant (his great-grandmother, Ampha, was of Chinese descent and was a consort of King Rama II). It’s a wonderful and very meaningful work, set in Thailand over a period of about 60 years, from the latter days of the reign of King Chulalongkorn (Rama V) through to the death of King Ananda Mahidol (Rama VIII) — hence the title. The front cover to the Silkworm Books edition displays four postage stamps, one from each reign, each depicting the respective monarch. They are enduring mementoes: like some of my relatives, I started collecting Thai stamps as a child; seeing the stamps on the cover I delved into my albums to locate them. Accordingly this review will have a section for each reign, each one personally ‘stamped’ with an item of the same denomination from my own collection.

The story was originally serialised in 1953 across many columns of Siam Rath, a Thai newspaper that the author co-founded in 1950 (as distinct from Thai Rath, another newspaper that was founded in the same year). Its readership comprised the highly educated and well-to-do for whom having 'Siam' in the title connoted associations with kingdoms and absolute monarchies going back many centuries. It was thus distinct from Thailand, which was the country’s relatively new name, emphasising the nationalism that had emerged following the transition to a constitutional monarchy in 1932. In the 1950s Thailand was starting to prosper economically, but memories were still fresh of the Second World War and of the sudden death of the King Ananda Mahidol, both of which had left deep impressions.

Si Phaendin became a Thai classic, so it’s quite striking how the audience has since diversified. It suggests a much wider appeal; even though the newspaper presupposes a certain educational background (beyond basic literacy), the stories would have been shared throughout the sois (side streets) and khlongs (canals) in Bangkok and the provinces, for the social strata are very much interconnected. The author and this work became national treasures; Si Phaendin has continued to maintain its popularity and been realised in many media, including long-running musicals. More recently, television adaptations are still impressing younger generations (with archives on YouTube; it’s in Thai, but having read the novel you can get the gist and it’s nice for the photography alone).

Irrespective of social and educational background, the story was initially intended only for a Thai audience and so certain cultural aspects are taken as given. It was almost three decades later when Four Reigns emerged, translated by Tulachandra, first published by Editions Duang Kamol, almost 30 years after it originally appeared in Thai in 1981. M.R. Kukrit must have wondered how it might be received or even whether it was possible to convey the essence in another language and culture. I’ll revisit the question of the quality of translation later, but for now I note the remarks he provides in his preface to the first edition. Here he makes clear that he’s not after an exact verbatim translation, but rather a somewhat looser and more authentic rendering that communicates something at a deeper level. In this respect, he is evidently pleased at the result, indicating that Tulachandra has done an excellent job and expressing immense gratitude to her.

Indeed having finished the book, I have found the approach has allowed the text to flow naturally, further aided by parenthetical remarks that helpfully explain some of the customs. A pronunciation guide and a glossary add to the orientation. But who is Tulachandra? There is no translator’s introduction, though the copyright notice indicates Chaemchand Bunnag, a relative on his mother’s side (of Iranian descent, probably traceable to highly successful merchants who arrived in Siam in the early 17th century.) Then I read from Marcel Barang's blog that Tulachandra is the pen name of a husband and wife team: Tulaya and Chaemchand.

Furthermore, we have the benefit of M.R. Kukrit’s reflection on the work’s rationale. In the preface to Four Reigns, he writes: “There comes a time in a man’s life when he feels the urge to set down in writing the modes and mores of a disappearing age, of which he was a part, however small.” Despite claiming that he had no plan, it’s evident that he did retain the sense of propaganda in the original meaning of the word (literally ‘things to be propagated’), namely cultural heritage relating to monarchical rule. His reference sources were relatives and friends from the Royal Palace, so the accounts are authoritative. Yet whilst the book is a hefty tome at almost 600 pages, inevitably choices have to be made as it would be practically impossible to cover every angle.

The scenes depicted would surely have resonated with my mother and the rest of the family household in Wong Wien Yai - her parents were born in the 1890s and could recall King Chulalongkorn’s reign. When the series was published my mother, Fuengsilapa (literally, “she who flourishes in the liberal arts”), would have been preparing for entrance to the Faculty of Arts at Chulalongkorn University and may well have read it then since M.R. Kukrit was already highly regarded for his cultural and literary expertise. And, not least, since as a child she would spend hours rapt in attention listening to an aristocratic lady, who had been a member of the royal household, describe the people, their manner of dress and cultivated habits, and so on.

Synopsis

The story revolves around Phloi, born in 1882, whose family have long-standing connections with the royal family as minor courtiers. Her father is a Chao Khun, (formal title Chao Phraya), an aristocrat of senior rank, according to the Thai feudal system of nobility. They live in the spacious family compound, a traditional setup in which generations and branches of family live in close proximity.

Yet, within this lofty set of circumstances, Phloi’s mother (Mae Chaem) is a “minor wife” and so she lives not in the main building, but in an outlying residence. Phloi’s visits to the grand residence of Chao Khun with its hallowed spaces are pervaded with trepidation on account a fierce half-sister; there is considerable tension in the atmosphere until it bursts with her mother’s abrupt departure, taking her daughter with her. This seems to set a tone of humility for her life, of not taking things for granted, albeit a life that is never wont for material comfort.

Then from relatively simple domestic beginnings, which we are given only a few tantalising glimpses of her home (“best-tasting mango tree”), her play (“Let’s cook rice and curry in the shade”) and the Chao Phraya river, we see Phloi as a 10 year old girl enter the Inner Court of the Grand Palace to be trained as a lady-in-waiting to Sadet, a princess and distant relative. (The Inner Court was the exclusive residence of the king and his queens and royal consorts; it was in effect a small town run by women because apart from the young sons of the king, men were not allowed there except for specific reasons, such as medical treatment.)

As the story unfolds with a broad spectrum of emotion: on the one hand, a lot of humour, sometimes caustic, but usually simple and fun, the author using the characters to poke fun at contrived customs, whilst on the other hand there are many passages with poignant descriptions of loss. The author also gives voice to trusted servants and their strong opinions, so much of the chat is colloquial, earthy and direct, easy to follow. The presentation is generally conventional with descriptions, narrative and dialogue, supplemented by occasional thought bubbles (in italics), allowing the reader access to Phloi’s internal thoughts. Although a novel, there are various techniques used, drawn naturally from the many literary disciplines with which the author is conversant, all helping to make this book so engaging.

So having set the scene, in the next post I shall take a look at what happens during the first reign (Rama V).