Gone Case, Book 2 — Story by Dave Chua, Art by Koh Hong Teng (2011)

I don’t think I would have even started Gone Case, Book 1 by the same author-artis duo, if I hadn’t also picked up this second book from the same, awesome little library in Singapore. The story is an immediate continuation of Book 1, answering some of the questions I had, yet also leaving so much else unsaid.

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Brief Summary of Gone Case, Book 2

This second story follows the same boy through the next several months of growing up as an adolescent in Singapore. The dad has moved out but still misses the boys and longs to get back with his wife. The boy’s new position as prefect at school is slowly eroding his singular best-friendship. His friend is battling his own troubles at home with a wayward sister and an obnoxious mom. And through it all, the boy and his mom and brother struggle to make ends meet as they long for the normalcy they’ll never achieve and miss the grandmother who recently passed.

The Story’s Source

As mentioned previously, this graphic-novel series is based on a novel of the same name by Dave Chua. I can only imagine that it’s at least semi-autobiographical, which makes me wonder why Chua didn’t make it just slightly happier.

This second book has the same feel as the first—realistic with occasional daydreams. It includes extreme, emotional moments, broken relationships, sad experiences—and yet what it all is a distinct lack o resolution of any kind, which was something I was really hankering for.

A Lack of Resolution

The parents’ breakup seems reasonable. In Book 1, the father seems absent, going out drinking with his friends after work and rarely spending time with the family. So when the family needs extra money, he moves out to live with the mom’s parents while they rent their bedroom to a migrant worker from China.

But throughout Book 2, we get to see the dad more closely—he’s not an alcoholic, not absent, kind and loving and longing to get back together with his wife. She on the other hand, although also longing for the past, refuses any type of reconciliation. If that’s how it really, happened in Dave Chua’s life, there’s no sugar-coating it. I get that.

But the rest of the story—the imploding friendship, the wayward sister, the financial struggles—are left as unanswered and sad as the marriage. I simply wonder why Chua (likely an adult by the time of writing, though I’m only speculating) would choose to focus only on the sadness and brokenness of childhood without a single glimmer of hope for the future.

An Overemphasis on the Sad and Dramatic

Granted, I have my own regrets from childhood—lost friendships and bad experiences—but as an adult I am now able to view them through a different lens, a lens of comparable maturity. Lost friendships were replaced by new, more solid friendships. Black-sheep acquaintances were by far outnumbered by happier stories. Even broken marriages (though I was aware of very few growing up) had their silver linings as the years rolled on.

I guess my main question is why the book had to be so depressing and without any glimmers of hope? If the answer is: “This is how it really happened,” I have to disagree. The author chose what moments both to disclose and to hide, and its his editorial choice to reject any glimmers of joy and hope.

If the answer is: “This is what depressed teenagers want to read,” then I’d argue it’s part of the author’s responsibility as a communicator to offer at least a sliver of what they need along with what they want. It may be the antithesis to “A spoonful or sugar,” but it’s still a reasonable, responsible request when it comes to memoirs.

Differing Worldviews

I recognize that my reaction to these books is evidence of my own worldview—Biblical and hopeful. I’m a realist at heart, not an optimist, especially when it comes to irreligious life-paths, but I do believe that hope and joy can be found in almost any circumstance. What’s needed, though, is the right perspective.

As a Christian who’s put my faith in Jesus (not my own efforts) as my only hope for eternal life, I view all of life’s highs and lows (and in-betweens) as part of God’s larger plan. Yes, I doubt this reality sometimes—”How can stubbing my toe in the morning be part of God’s perfect will for my life?”—but it’s the framework of God’s love and power alongside my own will and inside this cursed world that gives me the proper perspective.

Romans 8:28-30 is a fitting passage for this, because it acknowledges that every experience can have a silver lining—particularly for a child of God who’s pursuing a faithful love of God:

And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose. For those whom he foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, in order that he might be the firstborn among many brothers. And those whom he predestined he also called, and those whom he called he also justified, and those whom he justified he also glorified.

This passage also acknowledges that this “good” is not immediate but part of a long process, a process that we know includes fire and pain and broken relationships and failure.

The Artwork

Once again, Koh Hong Teng’s artwork in this book was superb. I loved the fight scene with the incredible use of lines and space to depict a scenes the boys didn’t want to witness but couldn’t avoid watching.

Conclusion

I’m glad to have found these two books randomly in a Singapore library and am thankful for the inside look they’ve given me about life here for the less-than-wealthy and the students of ca. 20 or so years ago. I’ve got a handful of other books about Singapore to get through, but this unique set will be hard to surpass in terms of local realism.

©2026 E.T.

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