Tag: china

The Finest China Writing Since ‘River Town’

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Grant doesn’t think too highly of Jarrett’s literary efforts…

The man who hit Jarrett in the head with a broom spoke in a boiled accent.

Jarrett Drakes rubbed his eyes and leaned up. He’d fallen asleep on the 587 bus and he’d laid all night on his right arm, now tingling, Jarrett shuddering awake to the man’s orders in Wuhanese, the man tapping his head with the broom’s bristles.

Jarrett pushed the broom away. He peeled crusted puke off his lips.

The man wore an orange vest and two women in the same-colored vests stood at the front of the bus, staring at Jarrett and whispering to each other.

“Jī diǎn le?” Jarrett asked, tapping his left wrist, where as of last night he’d worn a watch.

The man swiped his broom at Jarrett.

“Jī diǎn le?” Jarrett repeated.

The man brushed at Jarrett again, one of the bristles nicking Jarrett’s cheek.

“Ow. Fuck.” Jarrett scrambled to his feet, the world listing to the left, Jarrett to the right. He steadied himself on a bus seat with both hands, clutching it like a walking stick.

The man continued haranguing Jarrett in Wuhanese, jabbing a finger at the crusted puke on the bus floor.

“Sorry,” Jarrett whispered. He squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Fuck, I just — ” He closed his mouth against further words as the biting aftertaste of baijiu crept up his throat. He’d left the party promising himself he wouldn’t puke, not this time. He let out a grunt and opened his eyes. “Jī diǎn le?”

The man started yelling at him.

“Alright, alright.” Jarrett slipped past the man and his broom and the women up front paused their conversation, resuming it when Jarrett stepped off the bus.

He was in a bus depot on the western edge of Wuchang, across the river from Hanyang and somewhere out there Hankou, the three districts comprising Wuhan, China, summer 2006. Nearly three years here and he still had trouble with Wuhan’s seasons, too hot or too cold, and the respiratory infection so common it was now a companion.

Jarrett trembled. His mouth was dry. He found a restroom on the other side of the depot, a squat toilet and a cobwebbed sink. He cupped sinkwater in his hands and splashed it in his mouth, swallowing and grimacing in a stained mirror. He looked none the worse for the wear and outside he found drivers squatting flatfooted around a card game, cigarettes in their mouths.

“Jī diǎn le?”

One of the drivers showed Jarrett his phone, and the numbers sobered Jarrett up.

“Fuck.”

#

The taxi dropped Jarrett off at the mouth of Luo Jia Shan Lu, the street terminating at Wuhan University’s main gate. Jarrett paid in cash. A dashboard fan spun from driver to passenger and Jarrett basked in its cool air for a few extra moments before getting out of the cab.

The shops and businesses lining the street were mostly new. David told him the day would come when all of Wuhan would be unrecognizable and when that day came it was well past time to leave, but Jarrett thought he still had a lot of years remaining. China would host the Olympics in two years. The economy was growing. A developing country on the fast track to developed, and Jarrett was happy he was here to witness it.

Show Coffee glowed neon yellow above the streetside windows. Construction barred the way and a telephone pole lay tipped on its side, powerlines coiled in the construction dust like dead snakes. A boy reached out to touch one of the powerlines and his grandmother snatched his hand, the boy launching into a temper tantrum so brutal Jarrett thought he might be having a seizure.

“I swear I’ll never have fuckin children,” Jarrett whispered and made his way into Show Coffee, where two hostesses Western business attire welcomed him. Jarrett ignored their questions about his seating preferences, turning his head and scanning the restaurant.

Seated by the window was the editor for Willow Press, a boutique publisher based right here in Wuhan. Their catalogue consisted of travel diaries from the eighties and republished stories from the early twentieth century, tales from the period prior to the Japanese invasion, a now romantic age of opium dens and well-stocked brothels.

“Here we go,” he whispered, patting his lips for any puke. He caught the editor’s eyes halfway across the restaurant and smiled, dropping into the booth across from him. “Sorry I’m late. You weren’t waiting too long, were you?”

“Not too long,” said Grant. A balding man in his fifties, he wore his sunglasses propped up on his forehead.

“Yeah. Long night. Did you order yet?”

“I don’t want anything.”

“We could try their coffee. It’s Nescafe Gourmet in a Jar.”

“It’s what?”

“Nescafe Gourmet in a Jar. It’s an acquired taste, but once you acquire it, man.”

Grant didn’t even crack a smile. “I wanted to let you know that I read Morning on the Han River.”

“Nice.”

Grant’s eyes held the warmth of icicles. “We cannot publish it.”

“Oh. It’s okay.”

“I’ll be blunt with you: this just isn’t good writing. When it comes to writing, this needs a lot of work.”

Jarrett took this without expression. Rejection was part of publishing, and he thought it best to handle rejection with grace.

“Well,” he said. “Thanks for coming out.”

“I hate giving bad news to people.”

“It’s alright. I mean, it’s a subjective business anyways. I don’t think it’s that bad, but maybe I’m biased.” Jarrett chuckled.

Again, Grant didn’t even crack a smile. “This isn’t good writing. You know what’s good writing?”

“Apparently not.”

“River Town. Have you read it?”

“I haven’t even heard of it.”

Grant drew in a sharp breath. His body tensed like a man in a car about to crash. His lips slid back and forth. “You haven’t heard of River Town. Read it. I don’t want to make certain assumptions about your experience with the literary community, but is it too much to hope that you have read Winters with My Tomb?”

“Nope.”

“The finest China writing since River Town. It properly guides readers through this unique environment. You, for instance, at the start of your story your main character goes into a restaurant — ”

“A cafe.”

Grant’s eyes flashed. “Whatever it is, he just walks in.”

“Yeah?”

“You have to properly paint a picture. The big mahogany doors. For God’s sake, we don’t even know what your main character looks like. You — ”

As Grant laid into Jarrett’s writing, Jarrett sat there. He took it. Over a year of work, seventy thousand words, and it all amounted to this.

Grant fanned himself, chuckling. “I must remind myself not to make assumptions about one’s experience with writing groups.”

It all amounted to this.

Wuhan, China. Summer 2006: Jarrett Drakes teaches English at Wuhan University, caught between his desire to become a writer and the expectation that he return to America and go to business school.

When his best friend, Molly, unexpectedly leaves China after three years, Jarrett is adrift in the expat world of debauchery as he struggles to gain acceptance in a literary scene increasingly dominated by rich white kids and passive aggressive housewives.

Unwelcome, by Quincy Carroll

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Bottom Line Upfront: A smart book by a talented author. Well worth your time.

Middle Kingdom Life was a gold mine of information for people wanting to go live in China–particularly that niche of personality that teaches English as a Second Language, a gig requiring little more than the ability to speak English natively (and a white face, depending on your school). MKL covered every aspect of expat life imaginable, and in their section on Chinese women, the authors advised that the Chinese women who could speak English well were not representative of Chinese women as a whole, a not-so-subtle way of warning us to watch out for visa hunters and the women unwanted (perhaps for valid reasons) by Chinese men as they approach their third decade of life.

The reverse is also true: the people from the West who find themselves in China, teaching English with literary pretensions or teaching English while nurturing their nicotine and alcohol addictions (often hand-in-hand with literary pretensions) are not representative of your average person in the Westerner. It takes a particular type to go to China in the first place; a peculiar type to stay and yearn to go back.

So then, what kind of person does this? Who would walk away from their life and their family to go teach English in China for less than the minimum wage back home? In America, you could live in an apartment with no insulation and no central heat and air, you could use only public transportation and eat street food.

Would you Instagram it?

Would you tweet about your exotic American adventure?

For so long you had simply drifted through life with your head down but now you were constantly on display and although you hadn’t thought that you would like it, you did. You were talented in China. You had never been that good at anything, really, back home.

Unwelcome by Quincy Carroll captures the life of many young American men. It’s a smart book. Our main character is Cole, an unwanted guest in his brother Abraham’s apartment and (we’ll come to find out) not much wanted anywhere else. In China, Cole felt special, and he has something else going for him too: he’s biracial, a Chinese father, American mother.

There’s insinuations throughout the book that his father is partly responsible for Cole’s current malaise: lack of a strong masculine role model led to a lack of confidence, and lack of confidence leads to overcompensation. Cole himself isn’t a very active character, and when he does take action, he goes overboard.

Quincy Carroll does a great job letting us see all this without telling us. Cole is half-Chinese and we understand this from reading…but there is no direct mention of his hapa status until page 146. We don’t get a description of his physical appearance until his Tinder date, but by then we know. A lesser writer would have told us in the first few pages—indeed, if Quincy took this to any of the literary agents or writing groups I’ve participated in during the past few years, not only would they have admonished him for not describing Cole’s appearance on page 1, they likely would’ve suggested that Quincy have Cole look into a mirror, a neat narrative trick.

Unwelcome respects its readers far too much for this. Nothing is spoonfed to us, and we’re allowed to draw our own conclusions. Not only does Cole have issues in America, but in China too.

The key difference is that in China it’s easier for Cole to bullshit himself. Cole works for a beer distributor and has success. Hired for his language skills, working on his second-person POV novel in his spare time, it’s not long before Cole’s co-workers, Sam and Paul, discard him for a local, Marbury, who speaks Chinese better and understands local mores (he suggests having a hotel owner try the beer in front of them rather than relying on her promise that she will), and of course, this dismissal comes after Cole has properly trained his replacement.

The part of Unwelcome that resonated the most with me was Cole struggling to belong in the States and the memoir throughout the book, a second-person narrative where Cole embraces the truth about himself, veering away when time comes to address what happened with his girlfriend. I did live in China for a few years, and returning to the States was one of the most difficult things I ever did. Even the most loving families will struggle to understand what you’re doing and why—it’s not just friends who drift apart.

Unwelcome also deals with toxic masculinity. This is most apparent in the Vegas bachelor party for Cole’s brother (with a mound of white privilege almost as big as the coke they’re snorting) and of course, Harmony.

The way Cole and Harmony first meet is clever, and his drunken insistence on a date reflects his own cluelessness on how to treat women. I also get the impression that Harmony fetishizes Cole. Him being white was good enough, but discovering that he’s half-Chinese? You can’t miss her excitement, at least as we see it from Cole’s POV.

Which brings us to the incident. In the second-person narrative, Cole denies (a bit too specifically) that he raped her. Perhaps he did—at the bachelor party, Cole punches another guy in the face for joking about assaulting a passed-out girl. Harmony gives her take in a bilingual first-person epilogue. It’s not definitive what happened (nor should it be), and the idea that men should engage in psychological tricks to get women hearkens back to that “alpha male” bullshit that dominated the college scene in the early 2000’s. The chief proponents of those ideas have since moved on to new grifts but the underlying issues for young men remain.

All in all, Cole is unwelcome, he’s awkward, another clueless young man, product of a dysfunctional family, an apathetic society, or perhaps above all else, his own life choices.

Buy Unwelcome at Amazon or directly from the publisher.

Also check our Quincy Carroll’s first book: Up to the Mountains and Down to the Countryside

7 Questions for Authors: Antonella Moretti, author of ‘Parsley & Coriander: Life in China with Italian Flavour’

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China is fertile ground for any writer, and the internet  has given a voice to people who aren’t anointed by the Sino Twitterati. Parsley & Coriander: Life in China with Italian Flavour has no mainstream coverage, no Peter Hessler blurb to signal to you that this is the “right” kind of China book. It’s as simple as someone went to China, and wrote what they experienced.

Parsley & Coriander takes place over a year and the narrative is divided among Luisella, Emma, and Astrid, three Italian wives uprooted from Europe and dropped into China via their husbands’ careers.

And this is a China some of you might know: the gated expat compounds. Grimey ESL teachers, these ain’t; these women have drivers, their husbands have careers and for some the prospect of returning to their home country becomes terrifying rather than a cruel daydream.

Formatting is an issue for this book. Sometimes the characters speak with em-dashes, sometimes in quotes, while in other chapters they think in quotes. There’s also too much telling, and not enough happening; some chapters consist of a conversation. You’ll read chapters where not much is happening, and you’ll wonder what the point is.

There is good stuff in the book, though. And that just poses another problem: there isn’t enough of it. Parsley & Coriander should have been about Emma’s failing marriage and her relationship with her driver, Mr. Wang, perhaps told from Luisella’s perspective. Everything else should have served that plot.

But as enjoyable as Emma and Mr. Wang’s story is, it’s too little, too late. Parsley & Coriander is an enjoyable book.

With hints of a much stronger story.

Mrs. Moretti was kind enough to answer some questions about her life in China, her writing process and her to-be-read pile:

Let’s begin with my favorite question during my three years in China: why did you come to China?

I followed my husband. He got a job offer in China and we jumped at the chance, thinking that that could be a great opportunity for the whole family. So far, I’m very happy with our choice. 

There’s a tendency to pull from real experiences for an expat novel. How much of this comes from real life?

Even if it is a novel with invented characters, my book draws fully from the real life of an expat woman in China. It was easy for me to describe the daily life of the characters because they are expat ladies like me. I know the feelings of excitement, fear, loneliness. I understand how an expat wife can feel lost, without a role, overwhelmed. They are privileged ladies, indeed, but they also have to face many challenges. In order to keep their family united, they have to be strong, positive, proactive.

What is your writing process?

For this book, I first sketched the characters, their personality, background and the message I wanted each of them to deliver. Then I outlined a plot, creating a different story for all of them. I wanted some obstacle on their way, something they had to fight to demonstrate their courage.

Luisella prefers to remain in China instead of returning to Italy. Do you sympathize with her point of view?

I do! Even if I love Italy, I wouldn’t go back at the moment. I feel that China gives us more opportunities and it’s a more dynamic place. 

What about China has changed since you arrived? Do you feel anything has changed for the better or worse?

Since I arrived, there are many more skyscrapers in Suzhou. And Technology runs so fast! Now we don’t use cash anymore to pay, and even when we buy baozi at a small stall we use our phone to pay. Sometimes I feel amazed by all these changes, sometimes they scare me. 

One nice thing I noticed, is that pollution is less severe than six years ago when I first arrived in China. The problem still exists, but they made improvements. This comforts me since I plan to live here still for a long time.

What are the top three books in your to-be-read pile?

I’m currently interested in expat novels so I’m reading your “Expat Jimmy” and “South China Morning Blues” by Ray Hecht. I also started a book about the life of factory girls in South China. But I have to admit I’m to busy writing my second book, so I don’t read as much as I should.

Anything else you’d like to share with us?

I’m often contacted by women who have to follow their husband in China and are deadly afraid of moving in this country. It’s easier than you think, girls! Of course, this country has its bad sides, like every other place in the world, but life here can be very convenient. With the right attitude, this experience will be enriching and positive. 

Un grandissimo grazie to Mrs. Moretti for allowing me to read her book and feature it here.

Buy Parsley & Coriander on Amazon, and be sure to check out her blog, in English and Italian. For more updates, follow Mrs. Moretti on Facebook and Twitter.

New ‘Expat Jimmy’ review, courtesy of Becky Ances

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Another good review of Expat Jimmy:

Expat Jimmy is a novella, only 60-something pages and is an enjoyable and easily digestible book. It takes place all in one day, the day a new foreign teacher arrives in Wuhan, China and is shown around by a more cynical/jaded teacher named Adam.

Huge thanks to the wonderful Becky Ances. I’m a long-time reader of her blog, Writer. Traveler. Tea Drinker. and I’m thrilled to see her review.

Read her full review here.

Expat Jimmy, a seedy account of someone’s first day in China with a jaded seven-year laowai, is available at Amazon.

Book Review: Taiwan Tales Volume II: An Anthology

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NB: I consider Ray Hecht, one of the contributors to this anthology, a friend. *shrug* Take that as you will.

Title: Taiwan Tales Volume 2: An Anthology

Logline: A collection of offbeat tales from expat Taiwan writers.

Verdict: From a haunted hotel to a literate dog to expat friendships and Taiwanese mythology, Taiwan Tales Volume 2 has plenty to offer.

Taiwan Tales Volume 2: An Anthology is a collection of fiction set in Taiwan, the China/Not-China who doesn’t get a seat at the UN dinner table. This book is a product of the Taiwan Writers’ Group. That there’s a Taiwan Writers Group at all is thrilling. Not to say there isn’t a Mainland China Writers Group, of sorts, but membership seems closed except where it concerns the right kinds of people, who produce the same boring shit year after year and ruthlessly cannibalize each other on social media.

The Taiwan Writers Group is nothing like that. For starters, they have creativity. What they’ve produced is a delightful collection of stories displaying a variety of styles. Amazing what can flourish in the absence of myopic gatekeepers who cum tribute Wish Lanterns.

Room 602 tells of a haunted hotel room, Notes from Underfoot is written from the perspective of a family fog, The Taipei Underground continues Ray Hecht’s exploration of the emptiness of the modern dating scene. Bob, the Unfriendly Ghost vs. the Mother Plant tells of an expat’s hallucinogenic experience via a South American vine. Underworld involves a man’s journey underneath Taiwan, into a world of Taiwanese mythology. If you’re interested in desperate expat creeps, Connor Bixby has you covered with A Complete Normal Male Expat and the anthology ends with Onus, a tale of an expat friendship and a dark past.

A lot of good in here, but it doesn’t all land softly. Bob, the Unfriendly Ghost vs The Modern Plant didn’t work for me. Onus stretches believability a bit, though it makes some great points about the fleeting nature of expat friendships and is actually my favorite story in the book. On the other hand, A Completely Normal Male Expat provides a fresh take on the pitiful expat male trope while Notes from Underfoot alone is worth purchasing the book for.

If you’re looking for an interesting read, you’d do well to check out Taiwan Tales Volume 2: An Anthology. It contains writers of various styles and stories that stand out from one another, a prime example of what I wish I could see from mainland writers.

Taiwan Tales Volume 2: An Anthology is available at Amazon. Check out the Taiwan Writers Group here.

Quotes:

In person, they ignored each other. Work was one world, and there they had their own separate reality. There was no need to actually speak.

All the while the silence from his phone was deafening. Once it was a source of happiness, and now it represented cold, still death.

It seems anyone who fails as a person in an English-speaking country has a second and third shot in places like this, where others can’t see through their vacant souls so easily.

When you begin as an expat, you start relationships like you would back home, with the hopes of a long-term friendship. Then, that friend you spent all your free time with that one year goes home and you never hear from them again. Your heart breaks. You make another friend. Maybe you keep in touch with this one when they leave, maybe not, but the point is, you start to feel a strain. A struggle. So, at the words, “I’m leaving in six months,” or “I’m not sure how long I’m here for,” you learn to run.

We were almost living that “in a perfect world” dream, but we weren’t close enough to catch on fire and be lost forever.