I picked this book up on Ko San road in Bangkok in November. I read it almost in one sitting the following day. It rang true for me for a lot of reasons - David Kidd’s experiences as a foreigner in China in the 1950’s are very similar to my experiences as foreigner in Taiwan today. The fast friendships, the sort of one foot out one foot in relationship to the government and culture, the people who treat you well and the people who don’t solely because you are a “wai-go-ren”.
This is the first time I really understood what happened in China at that time. I knew the history, but I didn’t fully comprehend how deeply the ancient ways were cannibalized until I read this book. Sure, it’s materialistic, maybe. People were dying and this book documents broken urns and sprawling gardens; but, the story of the family around these objects and the history trampled by the destruction of that unbelievable house was heartbreaking.
We’re lucky to have to this book as a testimonial to a time we can never get back.
Another AWESOME NYRB edition.
