Interview with Popular Author Qiu Xiaolong- Part 3

What a long over-due post... Of course, I had to read A Case of Two Cities and Red Mandarin Dress immediately, so that derailed my timing in the most enjoyable way, but, as will be clear to some, writing about the environment has occupied my spare time of late. Because of the delay in writing this down, I have had to paraphrase much more than I would have liked. Hence, the scarcity of quotation marks. The link for part 2 of this interview is given above (long overdue ...), and part 1 of the interview with Qiu Xiaolong is found here.

So, on to the wonderful Mr. Qiu Xiaolong and the end of our discussion. I asked him about how Russian cultural and literary influence had fared through the Cultural Revolution, and he related that this, too, had ultimately been rejected: the earlier importance of Tolstoy, Pushkin and Dostoevsky was wiped away by Mao's insistence on what I would characterize as nothing but the most trivial written language.

On the subject of language, we then addressed translation: the translation of Qiu's novels from English into his native Chinese. This turns out to have been a nightmare. When starting out, Qiu was shocked and powerless over what the official Chinese translators did to his work. First, the books were not allowed to take place in Shanghai, where they are set, "because such crimes could never take place in a real Chinese city." Apparently China has no murders, officially. It is a wonder that they need any police. So, the books are set in a fictional, anonymous city, H_, which is absurd for any number of reasons, not the least of which being that the details of Shanghai itself make the city another character in the novels.

The title of the second Inspector Chen novel, A Loyal Character Dancer, was also unacceptable to Chinese officials. Qiu explained their dilemma without irony: a loyal character dancer existed only during the Cultural Revolution. This combination of words and concept didn't exist before the period of upheaval, and didn't exist afterwards! How can words just disappear?* They can because the new National slogan is "Look forward to the future", which apparently sounds almost identical to "Look forward to the money." Nobody wants to think back to the Cultural Revolution, to dwell in the past. In addition to appearing and disappearing during the Cultural Revolution, loyal character dancers were the ONLY dancers allowed at that time, so the connotations of the language are disturbing, but they also communicate the truth, a commodity that lost its value long ago in China. Now, of course, Mr. Qiu is fully-established as an internationally successful, professional writer and in great demand. He has had to leave his teaching post, even though he loves teaching, because the time and travel demands of his writing career are simply too great. Now, Qiu is in a position to say "No" in no uncertain terms: his books will be translated, unaltered, into Chinese, or they will not be published in China at all.

I mentioned that one of my scientific collaborators gave an invited lecture in Beijing last fall, and I was appalled to see the brochure advertising a great site-seeing tour for all cheerful tourists to visit Tiananmen Square. I associate the Square with army tanks, student protesters and atrocities committed by the Chinese soldiers against their nation's children. Mr. Qiu pointed out my naiveté kindly but firmly, making it clear that my CNN-driven impression of the Square carried little of the even more-exceptionally serious resonance that native Chinese would feel: it is a place of much more history and significance than my memory had conjured up. Tiananmen Square is the location where Mao first announced the Cultural Revolution, accompanied by his Red Guard. It is also the location of Mao's memorial hall with its crystal coffin, and far more. It still wouldn't be my choice of a tourist destination.

As part of his general address to the group at Barnes and Noble, Qiu told the story of his father's humiliation and persecution under the Cultural Revolution, and how Qiu himself, as a young boy, had to write the confessions for his hospitalized, frail parent. This was his introduction to writing. I chose not to ask him any further about it. I must say that Qiu's composure, with a lack of irony or bitterness, while discussing these experiences was remarkable. I was in tears, listening.

After reading comments on the web this weekend by people who are determined to blame someone or something for problems that have no clear cause, it is hard to reconcile our attitudes of entitlement in the USA with the joy for life and ability to survive and flourish exhibited by Qiu under the most trying circumstances. The good news is that we have the freedom to feel that selfish entitlement, if we choose, and hire a lawyer to act accordingly, with no repercussions from a totalitarian State.

I think a cautionary note is in order, however. Anyone who has watched the erosion of civil liberties in the United States might wonder just how close to totalitarianism the current (2008) regime has brought us. It is hard to know much about the horrors of our torture program in the US or the real story of who is in Guantanamo Bay's Prison and why they are there, but the recent novel The Mission Song by John Le Carre', is a brilliant and chilling glimpse of how the totalitarian State is alive and well for many who live on the margins of citizenship in Britain. Don't forget what this could signify for the US, especially given the "special relationship" that we enjoy with Great Britain.

We also touched on the subject of freedom in China when discussing crime fiction. Apparently there is now a type of crime fiction springing up in China, along the lines of the Western noir genre, that serves a useful, political and anti-corruption role. However, in these Chinese stories, there is never any mystery, because the crimes are always solved by a Communist Party cadre who uncovers the problem without the need for investigation. In China, all crime is political. I would call this The Case of the Ghost in the Party Machine.

I haven't yet given myself the pleasure of reading Cara Black's interview of Qiu, but you may find pertinent information about Qiu's childhood and later life there. Qiu spoke of Cara Black's hospitality, which I too have enjoyed, if only by email, discussing her novels and crime fiction in general. Ms. Black has written some of my favorite detective fiction, all set in Paris.

In addition to adjusting to a new schedule of publication deadlines and countless public appearances, it was good to hear that Qiu still has some time for poetry. I was able to pick up a few signed copies of his original verse and translations of Chinese poetry, and I look forward to reading them. I can say for now that Red Mandarin Dress is an outstanding novel, and somewhat of a departure in style. It is a tighter, more compact tale than we have seen before from Qiu, in part because Detective Yu is able to keep the investigation charging hard even while Inspector Chen Cao is struggling with his love of literature, academics and poetry and the resulting conflict with his investigative responsibility. A full review of the book will appear on this site.

I am grateful to Mr. Qiu Xiaolong for his kindness and time, for permission to interview him and to take and publish photographs of him and his work, and for his wonderful work.

*If you want more examples of how politics affect language, I strongly recommend Rates of Exchange by Malcolm Bradbury. It is an uproariously hilarious book, but not funny at all on some levels.

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Book Review: A Case of Two Cities by Qiu Xiaolong

A slightly different version of this review was published first at Blogcritics magazine, Book Review: A Case of Two Cities by Qiu Xiaolong:
"Inspector Chen investigates from Shanghai to Los Angeles to St. Louis to bring murderous businessmen to justice."

While writing up my notes from the discussion and interview with Qiu Xiaolong, I had the pleasure of reading both the fourth Inspector Chen novel, A Case of Two Cities and the fifth novel, Red Mandarin Dress. A Case of Two Cities is a politically-and socially-relevant mystery that pits Inspector Chen against corrupt, high-ranking Communist Party members who are increasingly involved in shady business deals associated with the increasing economic development in China.

I've written elsewhere (at Blogcritics Magazine and on my environmental blog) about the environmental problems (and some good news) associated with China's rapid industrial expansion. The realities of China's New Economics are brought to life by author Qiu in many ways. For example, we meet loyal state workers who live on a fixed pension and can barely survive in the face of inflation, and we learn of people who have been forcibly displaced from their homes in preparation for new skyscrapers and country clubs. However, there are far more nefarious deeds for Inspector Chen to contend with: the Inspector must handle the murder of an old friend, threats against his elderly mother and attempts on his own life, all while dealing with intense political danger, in the course of trying to bring rogue officials and businessmen to justice.

The language in A Case of Two Cities is a pleasure, with occasional quotes from classical Chinese poetry and T. S. Eliot, and phrases that echo Eliot's lines sprinkled throughout to capture the mood. Poetry is part of Chen's personal language in the same manner that a soundtrack or inner dialog for contemporary U.S. detectives might be based on music, including Jazz, Rock & Roll, Soul or Hip-Hop. Qiu's language works so well because he is a poet and a translator of poetry, so he can call upon classical Chinese or post-modern poetic imagery to fit a mood as easily as I might conjure up a Bob Dylan lyric.

The heart of the case is a series of lucrative land deals that could only have been made with insider knowledge of city planning, such as where new subway lines will be constructed and where land will become valuable overnight. The ringleader in the case, Xing, has already fled to the U.S., probably tipped off by colluding officials before an arrest could be made. Xing is now living in Los Angeles, in mansion next door to the son of a Chinese Politburo member. Xing has also applied for political asylum, claiming to be persecuted for political reasons. Outwardly, the Chinese authorities are angry about this request for asylum, but many of these same authorities the partners who became rich alongside Xing.

It turns out that much of the empire Xing built was helped along by new luxury clubs that cater to the baser desires of Shanghai businessmen, and, of course, their new interest in golf. Many deals are made because of favors provided in private rooms, along with hard cash in a red envelope, the traditional bribe for Communist Party officials.

Chen tries to reject cynicism, but this is a battle he loses a little more with each book in the series of novels. He works hard to follow orders, even though they may intend for him to create more of a spectacle than a real investigation. Can Chen achieve more than a hollow victory? Will he be able to keep his promises to himself and his dead Chinese friend while pursuing the big fish?

In the middle of a tense Shanghai investigation, Police Inspector Chen is suddenly sent out of the country to lead a literary delegation to the U.S. This role is not completely incongruous because Chen is a published poet, noted translator of T. S. Eliot and member of the Chinese Writers' Association as well as a police inspector; he had hoped to pursue an academic career before the government diverted his career to the police force. However, the timing is highly suspicious and the reason why he received this assignment is not clear: is it to remove him from the scene in Shanghai or to bring him close to the fugitive Xing? For that matter, what exactly is the purpose of the literary delegation? It starts out innocently enough, but after a week, nearly everyone involved seems to have a hidden agenda and several are keeping an eye on Chen. As leader of the group, Chen is in the uncomfortable position of having to lead daily political study sessions.

With Chen in America, his associate Detective Yu must carry on the investigation in Shanghai. Yu is essentially alone except for his wife and father, a retired policeman known as Old Hunter. These three try to keep Chen's elderly mother safe while tracking down Xing's hidden half-brother, Ming, who may still be in China and, because of the power of Chinese filial piety, could help unravel the case. Ming was the intermediary who obtained insider information from corrupt Director Jiang of the Shanghai City Land Development Office.

His part of the investigation shifted to the U.S., Inspector Chen wonders if he'll have a chance to rekindle his relationship with his American friend Catherine Rohn, the U.S. Marshal he met in A Loyal Character Dancer. Chen wonders about other questions, also: how will his estranged High-Society girlfriend, ensconced in the politics of Beijing, help or hurt his chances for survival? Are Politburo members trying to derail Chen's work when he discovers too much, are they trying to put him in harm's way, or are there even more layers of intrigue to sift through? With the battle raging on so many fronts, Chen must plan his attack like a master of the Chinese chess game, Wei Qi (better known in the U.S. by its Japanese name, go).

The interaction of the Chinese literary delegation with American writers and academics reveals misunderstandings of cuisine and culture, bitter and amusing ironies, and ignorance of history: expatriate Chinese are producing “deep sea fish oil” coveted in China for its "Made in the U.S.A." label; proud Chinese delegates can find no copies of their books in the university library, let alone the bookstore. Key quotes include:

• Nonsmoking area… Is this a free country?
• I talked to an American student today...They believe that Hong Kong belongs to Britain (and) know nothing of the Opium War. There is nothing in their textbooks.
• Pearl told me that Pizza Hut is a cheap fast-food restaurant here. In Beijing, it is a high-end place.
• What an irony. We never had fortune cookies in China.

Given the unintended affronts, a relatively successful academic conference takes place in Los Angeles, along with a secret investigation by Chen, and the literary delegation then moves on to St. Louis in search of Mark Twain, known as Master Ma. Twain is a particular favorite among some Chinese writers because his satire, Running for Governor, is "a lampoon against hypocritical American Democracy." For his own part, Chen is happy to visit St. Louis to hunt for artifacts of T. S. Eliot' s life and reunite with Catherine Rohn, who lives in the St. Louis suburb, University City.

Even though Chen is able to work with Catherine, who is able to masquerade as a translator in St. Louis because of her knowledge of Chinese, their relationship has been strained by time and distance; can it be salvaged? Eventually, Chen finds a quiet moment to sort through many of his feelings in a restaurant bar located close to Catherine's house (and close my own). Chen struggles to shrug off the hesitancy that T. S. Eliot described so well,* to be decisive with Catherine, and to move forward in his investigation. To survive, he must navigate the immense and contradictory forces that shape life and death in contemporary Shanghai. If you enjoy great fiction or compelling and complex mysteries, you'll want to join him.

*From The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T. S. Eliot:

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
...

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A Conversation with Author Qiu Xiaolong, Part 2

Above, in this photograph I was able to take (creative commons license 3.0, James K. Bashkin), we see copies of Qiu Xiaolong's latest book, the fifth Inspector Chen novel, Red Mandarin Dress. Red Mandarin Dress was published by St. Martin's, to which Qiu moved from Soho Press prior to publication of the fourth Inspector Chen novel, A Case of Two Cities. The final Inspector Chen offering by Soho is When Red is Black, a particularly personal story, Qiu explained, because China now embraces capitalism though, before, The Party persecuted all businessmen, even small business owners like his father. Throughout the discussion and question session that Barnes & Noble hosted, Qiu was exceedingly patient, very kind, and quite thorough in his comments.

When I arrived for Qiu's commentary and Q&A session, he was discussing Western literature and the Cultural Revolution. Qiu said, "From 1966 to 1976, there was no translation of Western books and all existing books were destroyed. During that time, the only book we were allowed to have was Mao's Little Red Book. People would hide other books inside the cover of Mao's book, even though it was dangerous. I did this, and I was even caught by one of my teachers, but he said nothing. I think he actually approved... Even after 1976, very few Western books were translated... Modernism was taboo."

Qiu went on to discuss modernism and how the idea of "impersonal art (about) personal feelings" conflicted with Mao's beliefs. He also mentioned the complications of mixing art and politics for modernists even in the West, bringing up the treatment of Ezra Pound, who would have been considered counter-revolutionary in China and was also persecuted in the West. Qiu noted that "Though many of the early revolutionaries in China were (intellectuals, and some studied abroad), Mao was not a college student, though he worked in a college library in Beijing." (Mao had succeeded as) "an autodidact, and he must have felt that, since he rose so high" (in Chinese government, formal education was unnecessary and wasteful.)

Since Qiu first came to prominence in the literary world through his translation of T. S. Eliot into Chinese, I mentioned that Eliot's poem The Wasteland was very controversial and anti-establishment in its day, and I asked why a poem so unpalatable to Western Establishment Conservatives should be unpopular with Chinese authorities. Qiu responded very kindly to this question, and spoke at length; some of his remarks are paraphrased (noted by parentheses, as above).

Qiu said, "In the 1940's, Mao said that literature should exist to serve politics.... (part of what) he meant was that literature should be (easy for) farmers (to understand)... Even Dickens was banned during the Cultural Revolution (though he had been a popular author beforehand because he showed the corruption of the West.)"

Qiu explained further, "During the Cultural Revolution, Eight movies and model operas were performed. Only eight (over and over again). (These eight stories had) perfect characters, so devoted to The Party and the Government that they had no time for their families, or for love, or even to make love. The characters were one-dimensional. Dickens' complexity opposed these ideas." Clearly, The Wasteland didn't stand a chance.

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A Conversation With Qiu Xiaolong, Part 1

Qiu Xiaolong wrote one of the great novels of the past several years, Death of Red Heroine, which is an absolute masterpiece. This was the first Inspector Chen novel, and it introduced us to the Chinese police inspector with a penchant for poetry and Western fiction, including detective fiction, as well considerable skill at solving complex crimes. In fact, the author himself is an accomplished poet and translator of poetry, and his complete grasp of the most complex English, whether from T. S. Eliot or any other source, gives him a much heralded skill as a translator. Do not, however, worry that Qiu Xiaolong's novels are pedantic- their language is superlative without in any way being self-conscious, and they are filled with suspense, intrigue, puzzling clues and great mysteries.

Qiu used to teach Chinese literature at Washington University in St. Louis, but, at least for the moment, teaching has yielded to the busy travel schedule of a successful author. Sandwiched between Chinese New Year in London and a working visit to Hong Kong as a writer in residence, the author stopped by my local Barnes & Noble in St. Louis County, Missouri (at Ladue Crossing) for a book signing and discussion. There, I had a chance to catch up with him and listen to his presentation. I took the opportunity to pick up signed copies of his latest books, including Red Mandarin Dress: An Inspector Chen Novel, and have a number of questions answered.

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Murder in China and Tibet, and London; Peter Rozovsky!

OK, so I read Qiu Xiaolong's books a while ago and gave an impressionistic synopsis of the first one, Death of a Red Heroine that was probably influenced by the second (A Loyal Character Dancer). If you want to read a more more detailed series of analysis, complete with references to major newspaper articles, and insight, go to Detectives Beyond Borders, which the author Peter Rozovsky kindly referred me to, and search for Qiu Xiaolong. Sorry, I can't get the link to work to take you to exactly the right place yet. But, so much for my "no objective standards" comment- now I feel pressure! Added later: here is the link to Qiu Xiaolong I was missing.

So, on to The Skull Mantra (TSM) by Eliot Pattison and The Murder Room (TMR) by P.D. James. I read both of these in August, with rather different results. I won't repeat my comments about the Pattison book already made to Peter Rozovky's blog, so here is where to search for them (my answer to the question in the Sept 1, 2007 post). Again, sorry about my poor HTML skills- I have to sort out why the links I had were not working.

I did struggle a little at the beginning of TSM, and had started it before but not gotten far. This time I had the good sense to read on. Contrast this with TMR, which starts with a beloved T. S. Eliot quote (from Burnt Norton)* and moves quickly to that area outside of London much loved by fictional characters, being approximately three miles north from 221B Baker Street, and by real people, including authors: Hampstead Heath. The Heath is crisscrossed by roads but is really quite large, with open grassy areas, wooded regions and walking or running paths to tempt lovers, criminals and healthy English people of a certain age. The reader is immediately put in the care of a perfect host, the urbane Commander Adam Dalgliesh, a published poet* whose day job happens to be at New Scotland Yard. TMR was easy to start, like candy or a bottle of single malt.

*see Qiu Xiaolong's inspector Chen!

Now, before I go on, I should dispense with some psychological baggage. Until this August, I had boycotted P. D. James for about 30 years. Why? Because the books were bad? No, rather the opposite. I found the writing to be so good, the characters to be so engaging and the story to be so gripping that when I finally learned who the villain was the last time I read James, I was too depressed to want to go through that experience again- the fellow was too likable (ignoring the crime, anyway). Oddly enough, looking over the back catalog online today, I haven't been able to figure out which book caused this reaction- I'll have to go to the library and read the last chapters of all of them, because I remember that chapter vividly (given the way my 49-year old memory works, I might well find out I was boycotting the wrong author, but I will get to the bottom of it).

So where are we? TSM has us spending time inside a prison work-camp and building roads by hand, high on a Tibetan mountain. While doing so, we start to learn about Tibetan prayers and religion through the eyes of a true outcast, a hated Chinese prisoner embedded within the Tibetan prisoners. However, in a spirit that may be relatively unique to Tibet, some of the imprisoned monks welcome their Chinese "comrade", if over time, so that he is much more at home with the prisoners than with the abusive Chinese guards, Warden, or any other ethnic Chinese he is likely to meet in Tibet.

Everything, and I mean eventually EVERYTHING, is turned upside down by the discovery of a headless body by the prison work crew, right where they are supposed to build the rode. The only experienced detective in the region is the mysterious Chinese prisoner whose file contains no information because he committed no crime, except to attempt to expose corruption by a Party official too powerful to fight. It is a bit like the world of the Chateaux d'If from Alexandre' Dumas' The Count of Monte Cristo or The Man in the Iron Mask, where a note from royalty could imprison a man for life without due process. Oh, it sounds a bit like imprisonment at Guantanamo Bay, too, though I hope that will come to an end before long. So is the mystery going to be placed in the hands of the lowest of the low, a former inspector reviled and made to disappear by his fellow Chinese and reviled by many of the Tibetans he will meet? (Tibet has been colonized violently by China in an ongoing process that started on October 1, 1949)

As I read deeper into TSM, the memories of his institutionalized mistreatment and cherished, but deeply hidden, memories of time with his father show us a man who has learned to survive by fighting his instincts, keeping his head buried, and now, against his will, that head is plucked out of the sand, its eyes are forced open, and he is given the choice of solving the crime or watching the massacre of his fellow prisoners. Why such drama? Because the Tibetan respect for the dead and fear of evil spirits means that the road building will not restart unless and until the murder can be cleared up in a way that mitigates all superstition. So, solve this crime for me and make sure I like the answer, is essentially what the local military commander orders the prisoner, who is given some freedom of movement, a driver and a translator.

Much tension in the book comes from mixed allegiances amongst Chinese military, political and policing institutions and amongst Tibetan factions, tribes or monasteries, some of whom may be dealing illegally with drugs, antiquities or both. Some witnesses and other participants in the events belong to these various factions. However, the slow re-emergence of the inspector's pride, which seemed to have been beaten and starved out of existence, provides a forward motion to the story, as the inspector struggles less and less with himself and more with the mystery at hand. The inspector is not the only person who finds his pride re-awakened by the circumstances: his assigned army chauffeur/guard/watch-dog is forced to face the humanity of the Tibetan people he is oppressing, and forced to recognize that his "work" is a sad, shameful and unsuitable end to a proud military career.

One of the best parts of the book is the development of our relationship with the military commander (not the same person as the prison camp warden). This man is not shown as a caricature, and ultimately he needs the truth as badly as the inspector, creating a situation that could prove fatal for all.

The nearby presence of a Western mining operation and the first bus-load of tourists for the season place spatial and temporal bounds on the investigation, yet long journeys across high desert and through dangerous mountain passes must be negotiated in attempts to track down a witness before he can be killed by the as-yet unidentified murderer(s).

Further complicating things is the discovery of a cave, in between the prisoner's work camp and the Western-leased mine, filled with skulls dating back to the beginning of Tibet's recorded time. This introduces a possible motive for murder, in that some group, Chinese or Western, is looting the artifacts, a highly illegal act.

Ultimately, an unwavering attention to detail in the face of the many feints and misdirections carried out by the murder(s) allows the inspector to track certain key artifacts that may or may not be missing, and to tease out the web of people connected with them so that the crimes begin to unravel. However, even with many of the basics of the case seemingly within our grasp, a series of absolutely shocking, yet immediately credible, revelations awaits us.

The end of TSM is a typical race against time in some ways, but there is nothing typical about the setting or the motivations of its key people, let alone the brilliant manipulations that have been carried out to insulate the puppet master(s) from the actions that caused so much destruction of life. After the slow start lasting maybe 12 pages, I read the book pretty much straight through, trying not to rush or miss anything, trying to keep separate and distinct the different temples and tribes and their roles, but increasingly anxious about the fates of all concerned.

So wither The Murder Room? TMR has plenty of its own misdirection, with contemporary murders in a museum apparently copying a set of murders from long ago, memorialized in that very museum (which is dedicated to the period between WWI and WWII). There are sympathetic characters, there are unpleasant characters, there are characters about whom one is ambivalent. After the first crime, there is more murder and attempted murder, and more lives may seemingly yet be lost at any point. So we have urgency. We also have the parallel story of Dalgleish's love interest, who is inconveniently located at Cambridge, and some internal police politics that are trumped by "larger" concerns, a catch-phrase for so much now, as it probably always has been (sorry Caesar, the seating plan for today's committee meeting is "need to know, only").

The problem is that the larger forces at play (i.e. National Security) really aren't at play. Instead we have a bunch of government ministers, judicial appointees, and wealthy people trying to protect each other, regardless of whether the case is solved or not (and with blatant disregard for potential additional victims). This may have resonated strongly in the U.K. after the revelations about how false confessions were obtained by torturing suspected IRA members, but in today's world, in the USA, this seems like an old story, a story that is probably being acted out now in real life, but one that has no more hook than last year's headlines. It is expected behavior, and why should we care how some other member of the privileged classes justifies his or her self-serving behavior? Fine, throw them in jail (or pardon them if you are President Bush), but don't expect me to be shocked that somebody in authority lied, or even compromised National Security for personal or political gain. I've been living with a Vice President who outed a covert CIA operative during wartime. Didn't we formerly execute people for treason? Now they go on the lecture circuit. So, for me, this book started out like gangbusters and ended up a bust. It is an OK read- the language is good (which is not so common these days), the minor characters are well drawn, and the workings of Dalgleish's mind are a pleasure, but the final third of the book is a major disappointment that left me feeling completely disconnected from the fate of the criminal(s).

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Mystery Novels 2

Some of the books recently added to the living list at Powell's bookstore, my own list, are given here with initial comments. The first two are by expatriate Chinese author Qiu Xiaolong:

Death of a Red Heroine by Qiu Xiaolong

A Loyal Character Dancer by Qiu Xiaolong

These two books are remarkable. Written by a scholar who moved from China to St. Louis, they gave me the first detailed pictures of many previously opaque aspects of the newest economy and the tragic Cultural Revolution, including its effect on families, villages, cities and individuals. The Cultural Revolution is shown through reminiscences of various characters in the stories. The police protagonist, Inspector Chen, is cultured, clever, principled, sometimes naive, and has the small worries and insecurities that help him come to life as a great character. He isn't the only detective who writes poetry or likes books, but his academic and artistic abilities are not forced into the stories, and his quotes from Chinese poetry or literature are infrequent enough that they add to the depth rather than detract from the flow of the story. The sideline of translating American fiction into Chinese gives the inspector some extra income- it also adds to his human qualities, but perhaps more important is how examples like this create a complex and believable Chinese world. We are given a range of insights into current and recently-past society, in a wide range of Chinese settings from rural to urban to aristocratic. Never did I feel that any of this information was forced- everything is wrapped up organically into exciting and suspenseful mysteries that accelerate toward the finish. There are political perils at local and National levels to deal with, and department politics to negotiate, all forming additional barriers to solving the crimes. The ancillary characters add much to the enjoyment of these books- their concerns may be about pay, career advancement or Party status, but they all ring true. I could not put these books down. The writer lives in St. Louis, as do I, and we have taught at the same University, but I do not know him.

More on the rest later, but these are all highly recommended:

Death of an Englishman (Soho Crime) by Magdalen Nabb ISBN: 9781569472545

Murder in the Sentier by Cara Black ISBN: 9781569473313

Murder in the Marais (Aimee Leduc Investigation) by Cara Black ISBN: 9781569472125

Murder in the Bastille (Aimee Leduc Investigation) by Cara Black ISBN: 9781569473641

Beat Not the Bones by Charlotte Jay ISBN: 9781299768628 or 9781299768628 or 9781569470473

The Woman Who Married a Bear (Soho Crime) by John Straley ISBN: 9781569474013

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