5 Questions with Lang Leav


 

Lang Leav was born in a refugee camp after her family fled the Khmer Rouge. She spent her formative years in Sydney, Australia, in the predominantly migrant town of Cabramatta.

Among her many achievements, Lang is the winner of a Qantas Spirit of Youth Award, a Churchill Fellowship, and a Goodreads Reader’s Choice Award. She has been featured on CNN, SBS Australia, Intelligence Squared UK, and Radio New Zealand and in various publications, including Vogue, Newsweek, the Straits Times, the Sydney Morning Herald, the Guardian, and the New York Times.

She lives in New Zealand.

 

No.1

How was Others Were Emeralds conceived? What was on your mind when you were writing the novel?

I wrote Others Were Emeralds during the pandemic, when I felt nostalgic for my youth; I found myself missing Cabramatta, my hometown, where the novel is set. The opening scene with Ai and Tin emerged naturally and became the driving force behind the narrative. It is such a powerful, visceral scene, pouring onto the page like a dream. Even after several rounds of edits, the prologue has stayed the same.

No.2

You’re a poet as well, with seven books of poetry under your belt, and this is evident in the lyrical, immersive prose that makes up Others Were Emeralds. What can you tell me about your creative practice as it relates to working between the two genres?

I write poetry sporadically whenever inspiration strikes, a process which has remained unchanged.

As for my approach to fiction, I will write disparate narrative threads before painstakingly combining them into a single story. It’s like emptying a box of tangled cables on the ground, then slowly and methodically picking my way through, organising them into separate piles before placing them neatly back into the box. Writing fiction takes an extraordinary amount of discipline and focus, but there’s nothing more satisfying than seeing a manuscript develop over time.

No.3 

Others Were Emeralds is your third novel, after Sad Girls (2017) and Poemsia (2019). Do you feel there is a major preoccupation that ties all three books together?

That’s a fascinating question. My protagonists share common traits—each being creatively driven and going through significant life transitions. In all my novels, there is always a crash. This theme likely stems from a traumatic experience in my late teens, when my mum and I were involved in a serious car accident at a busy intersection.

The accident itself was distressing, but the aftermath was even worse. Even though racism was commonplace then, this incident was particularly disturbing. The collision occurred when an SUV sporting a bull bar rammed into our tiny Corolla, crushing it like a tin can. A white Australian woman was behind the wheel of the SUV. She was unharmed, but my mother was critically injured, while I had some moderate injuries. At no time did the woman from the SUV approach us or offer any assistance.

At the hospital, I remember an unsympathetic police officer pressuring me to admit my mother had run a red light. I knew this was false, but being so young and distraught, she almost convinced me. After all, she told me several witnesses corroborated her version of what had happened, so I must be mistaken. Of course, this was an outright lie. I found out later there was only one witness from the crash scene, and he had testified in favour of my mother. When I tried to explain to the police officer how hurtful her actions were, she sneered, ‘Well, it’s not like anyone died.’ The sheer injustice of this incident has had a lasting impact on my life and has found its way, in one form or another, into each of my novels.

No.4

Currently, we can see increasing interest for books from second-generation Australians about their time growing up in the 90s when Asian migrants were particularly demonised and made to feel like second-class citizens—we can think of books such as Tracey Lien’s All That’s Left Unsaid, Vivian Pham’s The Coconut Children and most recently, Shirley Le’s Funny Ethnics. Of course, every book is its own political project and hopes to engage readers in different ways. What do you hope to express with Others Were Emeralds?

I find it remarkable to read stories set in such a turbulent period in Australia’s history, and I hope we’ll see more works like All That’s Left Unsaid—it truly transported me back to the 90s.

Recently, I read Cold Enough for Snow by Jessica Au. The way she subtly portrays racism is both quiet and devastating—a reflection of countless experiences I’ve encountered. When I wrote Others Were Emeralds, I wanted to capture that period in my life in the most authentic way possible. It was my intention to make the book political but I hope it resonates with those who have gone through a similar experience.

No.5

Who or what inspires your writing?

The books I encountered during my formative years significantly influenced my writing. In school, we delved into the works of poets such as Kenneth Slessor, Bruce Dawe, Emily Dickinson, and Shakespeare. When it came to fiction, we were introduced to authors such as Alice Munro and Thurley Fowler. During my twenties, I discovered Murakami and was captivated by the pristine quality of his prose, which has left a lasting impact on me.

 

A stirring coming-of-age novel about guilt, loss, love and memory. Others Were Emeralds explores the inherent danger of allowing our misconceptions to shape our reality.

This is the part in the story where someone I love would only appear again in flashbacks.
The daughter of Cambodian refugees, Ai grew up in the small Australian town of Whitlam populated by Asian immigrants who once fled war-torn countries to rebuild their shattered lives. It is now the late '90s and despite their parents’ harrowing past, Ai and her tightknit group of school friends lead seemingly ordinary lives, far removed from the unimaginable horrors suffered by their parents.

But that carefree innocence is shattered in their last year of school when an incident involving Ai and her friends spirals into senseless violence, leaving behind a trail of unresolved trauma. Years later, Ai is compelled to look back on the tragedy that shaped her adolescence, to examine the role she may have unwittingly played.

Internationally acclaimed poet Lang Leav brings her poetical lyricism and emotional acumen to create a rich and compelling coming-of-age narrative set during a period in Australia's history when anti-Asian sentiment was sweeping the nation.

Get it from Harperscollins here.


Cher Tan