Sopeap Sin seems initially to be the bane of Stung Meanchey: a bitter, drunken old woman whose rent collecting and foul demeanor are a burden upon all the villagers. However, as she reluctantly teaches Sang Ly how to read, Sang Ly discovers not only that Sopeap is a knowledgeable former professor, but that her alcoholism and meanness result from years of horrific experiences and ultimately conceal a kind and generous spirit. Through the gradual unveiling of Sopeap’s backstory and true character, the novel suggests that it is unwise to judge a person’s character based only on their appearance or outward demeanor, since there may be a hidden kindness inside of him or her.
Sopeap Sin is, at first glance, an ornery drunk and nothing more, demonstrating how one’s outward appearance and initial demeanor can taint other people’s perception of their character. The villagers despise Sopeap, calling her “the Cow,” both for her drunkenness and her seemingly cruel nature. She is most often seen staggering about intoxicated and seems pitiless towards the villagers’ struggles. When Sang Ly and Ki Lim cannot make their rent payment because gang members beat and robbed Ki, Sopeap does not waver, demanding that they make full payment within the day regardless, or she will throw them out of their home. Even Sang Ly, who is kind by nature, despises Sopeap, demonstrating how strongly one’s outward behavior can define others’ perceptions of their character. Although Sopeap is eventually revealed to be kind and generous at her core, it is worth noting that in the early chapters of the book, her vile reputation is earned. Aside from rare flashes of generosity—such as forgiving Sang Ly’s rent in exchange for an old book that Ki finds—she is consistently rude, impatient, and demanding. In light of the later revelation of her kindness, this behavior suggests that something traumatic has caused her exterior self, the self that the other villager see, to turn foul.
As Sang Ly’s relationship with Sopeap develops, she begins to understand that Sopeap’s alcoholism and bitter demeanor are driven by pain and guilt, suggesting that for many, their despicable behavior is not the mark of true malevolence, but of inner pain and prior trauma. Once Sang Ly begins learning to read from Sopeap, she slowly pieces together bits of Sopeap’s past life that none of the other villagers ever knew about. As Sang Ly discovers, Sopeap was once a literature professor at a distinguished university. She was married and had a son, and she lived in a wealthy district of Phnom Penh. This shocks Sang Ly, since the only perception she formerly had of Sopeap was as an old drunken woman, suggesting that one’s first impression of another person does not account for all of who they are. As Sang Ly’s relationship with Sopeap grows, Sang Ly sees frequent hints that Sopeap is trying to bury past pain and trauma. When Sang Ly asks Sopeap how she came to live in Stung Meanchey, Sopeap replies, “You’re asking me to remember what I’ve spent years trying to forget.” On a different day, while they are discussing Aesop’s Fables, Sopeap lets slip, “Aesop reminds me […] that during my life, there are times when I pretend to be something I’m not.” Such instances suggest that Sopeap’s alcoholism—which causes her unpleasant demeanor—stems from a desire to bury her past self. Sopeap’s desire to numb herself and escape from her past is clarified when she eventually reveals that her husband, child, and former housekeeper were murdered during the Khmer Rouge genocide, in which the Cambodian military slaughtered anyone connected to academia, intellectualism, or anything deemed to be a product of Western society. Sopeap’s housekeeper—whom she thought very little of, at the time—heroically lied to the soldiers that she was the professor and was killed in Sopeap’s place, allowing Sopeap to survive. However, Sopeap was haunted by guilt that her housekeeper died in her place and by grief at the loss of her family, prompting her alcoholism and the end of her career. This revelation is heartbreaking for Sang Ly as well, as she realizes that all of Sopeap’s drunkenness and foul behavior arise from the pain she has experienced, which further suggests that outward appearances or bad behavior may be the product of personal pain rather than poor character.
The novel ultimately reveals that Sopeap is self-sacrificing and generous, though anonymously, clearly arguing that one cannot accurately judge another person’s character based purely on what they see. Sang Ly and Ki Lim eventually discover that not only was Sopeap an esteemed professor, but she has also been secretly giving money to her former housekeeper’s family for decades. She is the owner of all of the properties at Stung Meanchey, and she has gifted her own home and all her possessions to Sang Ly and Ki. These revelations completely pivot both Sang Ly and the reader’s perceptions of Sopeap Sin from a drunk and crotchety old woman to an anonymous benefactor and nearly saintly figure. The revelation that Sopeap is secretly kind and generous at heart—though also haunted by pain and trauma, causing her to be bitter and drunken—strongly argues that one cannot judge a person by their outward appearance and demeanor, since a benevolent and beautiful character might be concealed within. Fittingly for a story about literature and learning to read, Sopeap Sin’s life fits the old adage: you can’t judge a book by its cover.
Appearances, Judgment, and Hidden Character ThemeTracker
Appearances, Judgment, and Hidden Character Quotes in The Rent Collector
Although I could never imagine abandoning my own child, I have seen enough desperation in my life to understand the mind-set of those who do. However, what is unfathomable to me is that with an array of choices available for leaving a child—orphanages, monasteries, foreign medical clinics—how could anyone choose to leave her child at the dump, a place where useless things are thrown away?
“But literature is unique. To understand literature, you read it with your head but you interpret it with your heart. The two are forced to work together—and quite frankly, the often don’t get along.”
“Words are like ropes […] We use them to pull ourselves up, but if we are not careful, they can also bind us down—at times by our own doing.”
“The only real dreams I have anymore are usually not pleasant.”
“Nightmares?”
[Sopeap] nods. “Perhaps a symptom of old age.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “How do you keep them away?”
“Rice wine.”
“I distance myself from heaven and then complain that heaven is distant.”
The soldier behind Samnang furrowed his brow in confusion and then cast a glance at another, perhaps his superior. Sopeap didn’t offer either man time for mental debate. The girl I’d berated moments before carried herself like a woman of culture, a wife, a mother, a queen.
The openings are shuttered tight. What I most envy, however, is [Sopeap’s] front door that locks. Still, in a world where everything means something, I’m also reminded that, like her home, Sopeap allows very few people inside.
“To this day, if we look carefully around Stung Meanchey, if we search for stories that teach truth and goodness, stories with lessons that can soften and change our hearts—we will discover hope.”