Saman Letter to Ayu Utami:

Saman Letter to Ayu Utami: Saman has had a major impact on me, and its themes and characters continue to resonate within my soul. I first want to tell you how much I appreciate your boldness in writing a novel that at one point -- and in many ways still -- is viewed as being politically problematic. Like your compatriots, you demonstrate remarkable courage to write fiction while "touching on sensitive social and political problems," (Bodden).

You deserve a role in Asia's modern literary canon and I sincerely hope that you are already working on future novels. Recently I have been learning about the long-term effects of colonialism, which you address frankly in Saman. However, I realize that Saman reaches deeper into the Indonesian psyche than simply staying at points related to the exploitation inherent in colonialism. Colonialism serves as an apt metaphor, as you know, for patriarchy. In fact, colonialism and patriarchy share so much in common, their terms can be used interchangeably.

As Caslin puts it, "feminist discourse shares many similarities with post-colonial theory and for this reason the two fields have long been thought of as associative, even complimentary." Colonialism refers to the symbolic rape of a region's natural resources, labor force, and culture. Patriarchy can refer to actual rape even as it also represents the same type of power imbalance and exploitation that colonialism represents. Colonialism could not occur outside of a patriarchal framework, any more than patriarchy could exist in an egalitarian society.

You touch upon these issues with remarkable sensitivity in Saman. I would urge you to write not one but two more novels, each building on the same core themes but with varying degrees of emphasis. The first novel I would suggest continues where Saman leaves off by exploring how sexuality and gender norms have changed -- if at all -- in 21st century Indonesia.

You may need to explore the experiences of young women from all walks of life, to address the complexities of the intersections of race, class, gender, and social power. The second novel I warmly suggest you to write would be a possible future for Indonesia, centered mainly on the social, political, and economic issues that continue to plague your beautiful nation.

I recently encountered an article about the Japanese economy in which Itoh specifically mentions the Asian economic crisis and the impact it had throughout the region and especially in Indonesia. In fact, Itoh cites a negative twenty percent growth rate during that time (p. 128). Gone are the spoils of capitalism and globalization, and the poor of Indonesia have nothing to show for it. The rich continue to get richer throughout the world, while the poor live in as squalid conditions as ever before.

Such tragedies can be flushed out well in a novel. The medium of fiction can convey themes and concepts that when raised in a prose setting come across as pedantic. I know the power of fiction to transform minds. You are already considered a novelist whose work has far-reaching impact. Not only is your writing exemplary in its literary style but you also inject your views on gender, ethnicity, and exploitation in ways that still do not detract from the storytelling. Ayu, this is a gift.

Few Americans understand what life is really like without freedom of speech or the right to free assembly. We take for granted that such freedoms are universal, when in fact they are far from it. It was less than one hundred years ago that no woman -- no matter if she were wealthy or poor -- could cast a vote in a public election.

How a nation can call itself a democratic nation that is dedicated to equality, liberty, and justice for all while at the same time barring half its population from voting and holding public office is beyond comprehension. Yet this same nation justified slavery for more than a century after the rest of the world denounced it as cruel and barbaric.

Your description of the Suharto regime is rich enough to allow readers a glimpse into that which they need to know about how much farther we as human beings need to go until true equality and true peace are made manifest. Unfortunately our pace of progress is woefully slow, but you are part of the solution. It is time to rid the world of the dual scourge that is patriarchy and the exploitation of the poor.

Both patriarchy and the exploitation of the poor have the same root cause: abuse of power. In Saman, you show how abuse of power can itself be subverted. One of the reasons you need to keep writing novels is that you are already making an impact. A good sign is the backlash against your writing, from Indonesians who are threatened by your points-of-view.

In "Descriptions of Female Sexuality in Ayu Utami's Saman," Marching points out how some male Indonesian writers cannot stomach a woman who is in control of her own power, her own creativity, and her own descriptions of female sexuality. "Rosihan Anwar has stated that this new trend in women's literature is nothing but 'sastra mesum' (pornographic literature)," (Marching). Saying that your novel is smut is akin to saying that Mary Shelley's Frankenstein has too much violence: it is totally missing the point.

Sexuality in Saman is not an end unto itself, although it does allow the main characters to flourish and adds depth to the novel. However, your deft weaving of sexual themes with themes related to economic and political exploitation show how systems of colonialism and systems of patriarchy go hand-in-hand. I should clarify that by colonialism, I refer to the symbolic colonization of impoverished regions of the world now by large multinational corporations.

Although globalization has the potential to stimulate economic growth in places like Indonesia, Itoh clearly shows that such growth must be tempered with common sense and policies that reflect social welfare. The dismissal of Saman as being pornographic literature further proves how deep patriarchy runs through the world. What Rosihan Anwar is so disturbed about is not erotic scenes in a novel but.