This Emerging Singapore Author Gives A Fresh Take On The Monstrous Feminine
Overseas book deals, international awards, even film rights – if these are the markers of success in the literary world, then the local writing scene has hit a new peak, led by a younger generation of authors penning their own diverse takes on the Singapore story. Pandemic‑revived bibliophile Cherry Tan gets some of the most exciting new names on the scene to share a peek into their inner lives and thoughts about this new chapter in SingLit.
The 26‑year‑old Lee has quickly emerged as one of Singapore’s most inventive literary voices, thanks to a singular style that fuses folklore, grief and the supernatural, and written in a voice that’s at once sharp and political yet tender.
Published in 2024, her debut novel The Dark We Know melds the supernatural with the rawness of girlhood grief – what originated as a Spring Awakening‑inspired tale evolved into something far stranger and more haunting. Though she never set out to write horror, Lee has found herself drawn to the genre’s cathartic emotional range, especially within the oft‑misunderstood world of young adult fiction.
Her sophomore novel When They Burned the Butterfly – set for release later this year – will take readers into an alternate 1970s Singapore ruled by girl gangs and migrant gods. Expect fire, longing and knives – Lee doesn’t shy away from messy female power, queerness or myth. “The monstrous feminine is important to me,” she says.
Wen‑Yi Lee, the 26-year-old Singaporean author of The Dark We Know.
WHAT SPARKED THE IDEA FOR THE DARK WE KNOW AND WHAT CONVINCED YOU TO PURSUE IT AS A FULL‑LENGTH NOVEL?
“It’s loosely inspired by Spring Awakening (an award‑winning coming‑of‑age rock musical about a group of teenagers in 19th‑century Germany discovering their sexuality and identity amidst intense repression) and the Pied Piper story. I was going through a complicated homecoming and the grief of being separated from a close‑knit community, and I was struck by a song in Spring Awakening called Those You’ve Known. In the play, the main character is given the strength to carry on by the ghosts of his dead friends, who ask him to remember them. Of the four childhood friends, only he and the runaway girl survive. I wanted to explore a version of that story where the ghosts were part of the world’s fabric, and where the two survivors find each other and figure out how to go on in the long aftermath of trauma.”
Her next work, When They Burned the Butterfly, is set in 1970s, gang‑ridden Singapore and centred on a schoolgirl who has the power to summon flames and is trying to uncover the mystery of her mother’s death.
YOUR NEXT NOVEL, WHEN THEY BURNED THE BUTTERFLY, DROPS US INTO A RICHLY IMAGINED, ALTERNATE 1972 SINGAPORE FILLED WITH GIRL GANGS AND MIGRANT GODS. WHAT DREW YOU TO THIS SPECIFIC TIME PERIOD AND SETTING?
“Partly, it was historical. The real‑life Singapore gang Red Butterfly, which the book draws from, was active during that era, so I didn’t want to set the book too far afield. But I’m also really interested in the post‑colonial period, especially in sci‑fi and fantasy. The genre often ends with the fall of an empire or a regime, but what comes after? That’s when the real work begins: You’ve won the nation, so now how do you keep it? I’m compelled by the kinds of stories you can tell in the middle of that rebuilding. And then there are the people who don’t neatly fit into the hopeful narrative of a clean, modern nation – secret society members, queer people. They’re not the same things, obviously, but there’s a shared theme of trying to define your own sense of belonging, even as the Merlion is being built in the background.”
The voice behind the beautifully written young adult horror novel The Dark We Know, describes her writing process as “chaotic”, sharing that she often writes in fits and spurts, and while travelling.
YOU’VE SAID BEFORE THAT YOU’RE DRAWN TO “FERAL GIRLS” AND GHOSTS. WHAT CONTINUES TO ATTRACT YOU TO THAT KIND OF HAUNTING FEMININE ENERGY AND WHY DO YOU THINK IT RESONATES SO MUCH RIGHT NOW?
“I’m a strong advocate for the pontianak (a female ghost in Southeast Asian folklore) as a feminist icon. I love the monstrous feminine and the reclamation of agency with teeth – where there’s no concern about looking pretty. I love girls who aren’t afraid to be terrifying, who possess the narrative completely, and who embrace their own monstrosity because, frankly, the world has treated them like monsters all along. It’s not new – think of The Yellow Wallpaper by Charlotte Perkins Gilman from 1892. But we’re seeing a growing appetite for stories about female rage, especially as conversations around marginalisation and representation gain traction. That kind of energy has always existed, but now, more people are finally naming it. I also think it’s important that the ‘girlboss’ parade stays nuanced and intersectional. Queer women, women of minority races, women from working‑class backgrounds – how are they impacted differently by the world, even by other women? Whose rage is publicly palatable, and whose isn’t?”
“I love girls who aren’t afraid to be terrifying, who possess the narrative completely, and who embrace their own monstrosity because, frankly, the world has treated them like monsters all along,” says Lee.
SINGAPORE LITERATURE HAS OFTEN WRESTLED WITH QUESTIONS OF NATIONAL IDENTITY, MULTICULTURALISM AND BELONGING. DO YOU THINK THAT’S STILL CENTRAL TO YOUNGER WRITERS?
“It’s a funny question to answer while I’m deep in writing a historical duology set in the post‑independence period, so, yes, nation‑building and identity are very much on my mind. But I do think that among younger writers today, there’s a noticeable shift towards examining the consequences of Singapore’s rapid development and the trade‑offs that have come with becoming the country we are now … There’s also – as with the broader global media landscape – a growing focus on marginalisation, institutional critique and intersectional identity. I recently wrote a dystopian short story about BTO (built‑to‑order) flats and queer marriage, for instance. And one of my favourite local novels right now is . It’s such a raw, inventive exploration of brown masculinity and the pressures of the school system. And I’ve got poet friends writing about Palestine. And even though Balli Kaur Jaswal isn’t Gen Z, her most recent novel on domestic workers in Singapore shows how much space there is now for stories that once felt impossible to tell.”
Wen Yi Li's collection of books.
NOW THAT YOUR DEBUT NOVEL IS OUT IN THE WORLD AND MORE BOOKS ARE ON THE WAY, HAS YOUR IDEA OF WHAT SUCCESS LOOKS LIKE AS A WRITER CHANGED AT ALL?
“I’ve come to believe that there are dreams you can’t control and goals that you can. The only way to keep your sanity – and the joy that made you write in the first place – is to focus on the latter. The goalposts will always move and there’s always something else to desire. At the end of the day, success to me looks like being able to keep doing this, and remembering that I’ve already achieved what the me from five years ago – or childhood me – would have called a dream.”
ALL INTERVIEWS HAVE BEEN EDITED FOR CLARITY AND BREVITY.