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Turtle and the Dam
Turtle Chen is clever, studious, and hard working (if this is a job interview). He's one of several ten thousands of Chinese university graduates entering the work force this spring. Will he get a job? Will he get a date? Will he battle a rural dam construction project alongside the ghost of Chairman Mao? At least one of those things could happen, but you'll have to read the book to find out which.
- GenresFiction
148 pages, Kindle Edition
First published December 24, 2012
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February 27, 2014I'm working with this title so I can't rate it, but I can tell you that CCLaP has outdone itself again. TURTLE AND DAM pokes fun at so much and yet it tells such a serious story about going after what you believe in.
Turtle - a twenty something year old American educated Chinese man and recent college graduate - is desperately hunting for a job. He is also incredibly full of himself. Hilarity and head-biffs ensue as the reader follows him into the unexpected and incredibly awkward career of newspaper journalism.
If you enjoy literature that elbows cultural references and differences in the ribs, you'll find a lot to love in TURTLE AND DAM.
Message me if you'd like to review a digital copy here on goodreads.
Turtle - a twenty something year old American educated Chinese man and recent college graduate - is desperately hunting for a job. He is also incredibly full of himself. Hilarity and head-biffs ensue as the reader follows him into the unexpected and incredibly awkward career of newspaper journalism.
If you enjoy literature that elbows cultural references and differences in the ribs, you'll find a lot to love in TURTLE AND DAM.
Message me if you'd like to review a digital copy here on goodreads.
March 27, 2014
China is a place that can be very misunderstood, people either have a very stereotypical and cynical view of it and other people have a very romanticized vision of it. This novel seems to be in between, where there's good people and bad people, where people make mistakes or misunderstand each other.
This whole novel is about the struggle of finding a job and then hoping to keep it in modern China, where you don't always get the one you want, because life sucks like that. If you do research on communism and stuff, you will probably figure out what I'm talking about. So the main character is an intelligent and somewhat awkward guy named Turtle Chen. He lives in Fudong, China and went to school in the U.S. at Princeton University. Then he comes back to China and through a series of obstacles,strange events, and flying paper balls and airplanes, he gets a job as a journalist instead of the science or engineering type of career he wanted. At first he's disappointed but soon makes friends who all seem to be addicted to their technology like most people around the world (some are worse than others, mostly developed countries I believe). During his days in his journalism classes, he discovers a dam that's going to be built in Fudong that might destroy the homes of his grandmother, with possibly no compensation.
Turtle and Dam was an enjoyable read, it was funny and relatable. It's sad, in a funny way, how everyone seems to be so absorbed in their tech and their headphones, to the point where we can't even communicate normally without misunderstanding each other. In the future our faces will probably be computer screens with robot voices. Okay never mind that's silly. I think you get what I mean. The human race will eventually be nothing but a load of pixelated beings with the occasional conversation and then go back to surfing and looking at images of cats or something. I'm not saying that technology is bad because then I wouldn't be using this computer right now and I probably wouldn't have read this book. I would probably be like Jonathon Franzen, just kidding. I haven't read his work but I've heard he's a bit narrow minded.
Anyway, what I loved about this book is that it's real and I can actually see myself in Turtle, trying to interact with a world that seems to be more interested in what their friends are saying on Twitter instead of actually talking to them. Most likely they are writing something like this "OMG my f-kin phone like blew out two times?!", maybe not that but close. I also loved the part where he talked about the Chinese language because I'm taking Mandarin Chinese II in college and I understood all of the little weird tricks of the language. A lot of books that I read that took place in China tend to be really depressing like Beijing Coma by Ma Jian, Waiting by Ha Jin or a novel I didn't finish reading yet called Life and Death are Wearing Me Out by Mo Yan. That doesn't necessarily mean they are bad, I like when books affect me emotionally, that means the writer got his point across. I think Turtle and Dam and Xiaolu Guo's Twenty Fragments of a Ravenous Youth are the least depressing China based novels I have read. It's a fun, quirky book, a breathe of fresh air for most novels that take place in China. Well, the ones that I read already.
This whole novel is about the struggle of finding a job and then hoping to keep it in modern China, where you don't always get the one you want, because life sucks like that. If you do research on communism and stuff, you will probably figure out what I'm talking about. So the main character is an intelligent and somewhat awkward guy named Turtle Chen. He lives in Fudong, China and went to school in the U.S. at Princeton University. Then he comes back to China and through a series of obstacles,strange events, and flying paper balls and airplanes, he gets a job as a journalist instead of the science or engineering type of career he wanted. At first he's disappointed but soon makes friends who all seem to be addicted to their technology like most people around the world (some are worse than others, mostly developed countries I believe). During his days in his journalism classes, he discovers a dam that's going to be built in Fudong that might destroy the homes of his grandmother, with possibly no compensation.
Turtle and Dam was an enjoyable read, it was funny and relatable. It's sad, in a funny way, how everyone seems to be so absorbed in their tech and their headphones, to the point where we can't even communicate normally without misunderstanding each other. In the future our faces will probably be computer screens with robot voices. Okay never mind that's silly. I think you get what I mean. The human race will eventually be nothing but a load of pixelated beings with the occasional conversation and then go back to surfing and looking at images of cats or something. I'm not saying that technology is bad because then I wouldn't be using this computer right now and I probably wouldn't have read this book. I would probably be like Jonathon Franzen, just kidding. I haven't read his work but I've heard he's a bit narrow minded.
Anyway, what I loved about this book is that it's real and I can actually see myself in Turtle, trying to interact with a world that seems to be more interested in what their friends are saying on Twitter instead of actually talking to them. Most likely they are writing something like this "OMG my f-kin phone like blew out two times?!", maybe not that but close. I also loved the part where he talked about the Chinese language because I'm taking Mandarin Chinese II in college and I understood all of the little weird tricks of the language. A lot of books that I read that took place in China tend to be really depressing like Beijing Coma by Ma Jian, Waiting by Ha Jin or a novel I didn't finish reading yet called Life and Death are Wearing Me Out by Mo Yan. That doesn't necessarily mean they are bad, I like when books affect me emotionally, that means the writer got his point across. I think Turtle and Dam and Xiaolu Guo's Twenty Fragments of a Ravenous Youth are the least depressing China based novels I have read. It's a fun, quirky book, a breathe of fresh air for most novels that take place in China. Well, the ones that I read already.
February 26, 2014
FTC DISCLOSURE: I am the publisher of this book.
CCLaP's newest novel drops on April 14th! This is a highly funny and insightful tale set in contemporary China, about the tens of millions of young rural farmers who are being turned into the nation's first generation of suburban white-collar workers, and also a "Catch-22" style dark comedy about the pitfalls of being a journalist within a communist country with state-controlled media. Featuring a brilliant ending which makes me laugh every single time I read it, this instructs as much as it entertains, and you will have a whole new view of the "New China" after finishing this charming literary debut of Washington DC financial expert Scott Abrahams.
CCLaP is currently sending out review copies of this book to ANYONE at Goodreads who promises to do a write-up! Just drop me a line at [ilikejason at gmail.com] if you're interested.
CCLaP's newest novel drops on April 14th! This is a highly funny and insightful tale set in contemporary China, about the tens of millions of young rural farmers who are being turned into the nation's first generation of suburban white-collar workers, and also a "Catch-22" style dark comedy about the pitfalls of being a journalist within a communist country with state-controlled media. Featuring a brilliant ending which makes me laugh every single time I read it, this instructs as much as it entertains, and you will have a whole new view of the "New China" after finishing this charming literary debut of Washington DC financial expert Scott Abrahams.
CCLaP is currently sending out review copies of this book to ANYONE at Goodreads who promises to do a write-up! Just drop me a line at [ilikejason at gmail.com] if you're interested.
February 27, 2014
Turtle and the Dam is a hilarious but somehow uncannily realistic vignette into the life of a young man balancing on the precipice of personal and professional triumph or tragedy. It is like a mash-up between the Chinese comedy-drama Shower and Charlie Chaplin's Modern Times. Turtle is brimming with China-specific details yet Abrahams tells a story that is very much universal. For students of China, for ragers against the rat-race, for anyone that's struggled with life and love, I wholeheartedly recommend this book.
February 26, 2014
I read an earlier draft of this novel and thought it was really terrific. Mr. Abrahams has a unique voice and tells a fascinating tale of a man transitioning to adulthood in modern China. I cannot wait to read the final copy when it is released in April.
April 8, 2014
Here’s something I’m not particularly proud of: I pester people. And nothing makes me put a person in front of the firing squad (my coinage for aggressive questioning) more than learning that he or she lives (or has lived) someplace foreign and/or exotic. And this someplace doesn’t even have to be really THAT foreign and/or exotic: I’m notorious for pestering people who live in Cleveland.
But here’s the thing: I don’t put just anyone in front of the firing squad. After all, what do I care about yuppie businessmen, binge-drinking college “bros,” or suburban housewives? As I’m fond of saying, I want to know what life is like “on the curb, not the suburb.” What I’m looking for is a certain kind of person. Once I locate this kind of person, it’s lock, stock, and two smoking barrels. I want to know where people drink and what they drink. (say I was filthy for a pint of Murphy’s on a Wednesday night, where would I go?); I want to know where people go for live music (and yes: I consider karaoke live music, but only if it’s Hip Hop Karaoke); I want to know what was the most recent Shakespeare in the Park production (was it something common like A Midsummer Night’s Dream, or quirky like Measure for Measure?); I want to know how extensive their public transportation system is and is it only used by smelly semi-homeless people (“Next stop: Shower Street & Deodorant Drive”); I want to know where men go to get hats and women go to get tats (“Is that an octopus?”); I think you get the idea.
Right around the time I start inquiring about the most popular vender at the local Farmer’s Market (is it some adorable hipster couple or an old, grizzled farm family with fifteen kids?) I get that ‘Do you work for the KGB?’ look. Once this happens, I know that it’s only a matter of time before I get a point-blank inquiry as to why I’m asking so many damn questions. But I’m ready for such an inquiry.
“Because,” I respond calmly, “I come from a foreign country.”
I pause a moment, allowing my interlocutor the opportunity to ponder what foreign country somebody like me might come from.
He has a Lithuanian last name…
He talks incessantly about New Zealand rugby…
He’s as friendly as [egads!] a Canadian!
Before I can be accused of being a Canuck, I deliver my punchline:
“Ohio.”
[Or if I’m in Cleveland: “Columbus.”]
This punchline always kills, especially when I’m in Cleveland.
To your average Ohioan, everyplace is a foreign country; and thus, I never tire of trying to learn as much as I can from people who live (or have lived) there. But these people have to be real people, creative people.
And this brings me to the crux of this review: is there any place on earth more foreign than China? [No, North Korean doesn’t count.] To your average Ohioan, China is imponderable, impenetrable. The air pollution in Siloupo? Shadow banks? Investments in Detroit AND Toledo? (Two shitholes for the price of one!) The Diary of Government Official Hou Weidong? (Seven volumes!) And what’s the deal with all those gaudy, hand-waving golden cats? Or the confusion surrounding how to use the “Great Western Toilet?”
Enter: Turtle and Dam by Scott Abrahams (Chicago Center for Literature and Photography, 2014).
[For the sake of full disclosure: I’m part of CCLaP’s extended family. They published my novel Humboldt: Or, The Power of Positive Thinking in February.]
For anyone like me, anyone who doesn’t know where to begin in the quest to understand China, Turtle and Dam is a book to cherish. It’s smart, insightful, and extremely funny. In particular, Abrahams’ ability to humorously weave together the foreign and the familiar is nothing short of astounding. At the center of this confluence stands Turtle Chen. As a literary character, Turtle is utterly (to borrow a phrase from Jason Isbell’s twitter account) “undislikeable.”
The story begins at Wuhai University, which, according to Turtle, is “the academic institution which I am graduated from in May.” In particular, the action starts at the Wuhai University job fair, where students crumple up résumés and shoot them towards prospective employers like basketballs. Thanks to a fortuitous mistake (and not a crumpled up résumé), Turtle lands a job with the Xinhua News Agency. In Chapter Four, the reader learns that Xinhua is both the premier news agency in all of China and pure journalistic inanity. As a member of Xinhua’s young journalist training program, Turtle is required to write an article on the construction of a hydroelectric dam in the Liang River Valley. This assignment, which at first appears pointless, propels the plot forward, intertwining Turtle’s family, friends, and future.
So who is Turtle Chen?
“The first thing you will notice about me,” Turtle announces in the novel’s opening sentence, “is that my English is impeccable. I am the top student. I studied abroad in the USA at Princeton University in Princeton, New Jersey.” Turtle’s brief association with Princeton allows Abrahams to draw comparisons between Chinese and American cultures; for example, while comparing cities that he has lived in, Turtle declares: “I have lived in Wuhai and I have lived in Princeton, New Jersey, and if New Jersey can be considered America’s armpit then Wuhai must be something even less desirable, such as the nostrils or the anus.”
As the narrative progresses, it becomes obvious that Turtle is not 100% trustworthy. This is not to say that he is the cultural equivalent to Holden Chen (or should that be Turtle Caulfield?); rather, it is to say that Turtle, like the majority of job-seeking postgrads, is prone to exaggerations. For example, later in the novel, he admits that he’s not really “the top student.” He was ranked 273 out of 20,000. And his English is far from “impeccable,” which Abrahams deftly exploits to its fullest comedic value.
But despite the cultural difference and linguistic slip-ups, Turtle emerges from the story as a remarkably familiar portrait of a young man struggling to navigate the difficult post-college years. His struggles include managing maternal pressure towards marriage (“There was a very rapid transition from a one hundred percent prohibition on dating to one hundred percent pressure to find a girlfriend and get married”); his ever-deepening dependence on technology (his SinoPhone is “the top of the line model. It has Bluetooth. It has the internet. It has everything. It is the dream team”); the perils of doing laundry (black spots everywhere!); late-night meal options (in China, you apparently have to make a reservation at Pizza Hut!); and the frustrations and frequent humiliations of love (an insinuation that a female friend has a sugar daddy results in Turtle taking a mantou bun in the face).
Perhaps no scene better illustrates the novel’s skillful weaving together of foreign and familiar, and thus explains who Turtle Chen really is, like the moment when he opens the door to his grandmother’s house to discover two young police officers waiting to question him. Instead of being intimidated, Turtle quickly assesses the situation for what it really is: an interaction of three young men who watch too much American television. “So,” Turtle thinks, “my best guess is that both of us are quite excited to have such a perfect opportunity to act out our favorite dramatic scenes.”
As the conversation unfolds, the trio banters back-and-forth in hilarious NYPD Bluespeak, using phrases such as “so you want to play the hard ball,” “aha, so it looks like we have a wise guy on our hands,” and my personal favorite: “who is the good cop and who is the bad cop?”
No matter what foreign country you’re from, be it China or Ohio, what young adult wouldn’t relish the opportunity to engage in such a ridiculous conversation with a cop?
But here’s the thing: I don’t put just anyone in front of the firing squad. After all, what do I care about yuppie businessmen, binge-drinking college “bros,” or suburban housewives? As I’m fond of saying, I want to know what life is like “on the curb, not the suburb.” What I’m looking for is a certain kind of person. Once I locate this kind of person, it’s lock, stock, and two smoking barrels. I want to know where people drink and what they drink. (say I was filthy for a pint of Murphy’s on a Wednesday night, where would I go?); I want to know where people go for live music (and yes: I consider karaoke live music, but only if it’s Hip Hop Karaoke); I want to know what was the most recent Shakespeare in the Park production (was it something common like A Midsummer Night’s Dream, or quirky like Measure for Measure?); I want to know how extensive their public transportation system is and is it only used by smelly semi-homeless people (“Next stop: Shower Street & Deodorant Drive”); I want to know where men go to get hats and women go to get tats (“Is that an octopus?”); I think you get the idea.
Right around the time I start inquiring about the most popular vender at the local Farmer’s Market (is it some adorable hipster couple or an old, grizzled farm family with fifteen kids?) I get that ‘Do you work for the KGB?’ look. Once this happens, I know that it’s only a matter of time before I get a point-blank inquiry as to why I’m asking so many damn questions. But I’m ready for such an inquiry.
“Because,” I respond calmly, “I come from a foreign country.”
I pause a moment, allowing my interlocutor the opportunity to ponder what foreign country somebody like me might come from.
He has a Lithuanian last name…
He talks incessantly about New Zealand rugby…
He’s as friendly as [egads!] a Canadian!
Before I can be accused of being a Canuck, I deliver my punchline:
“Ohio.”
[Or if I’m in Cleveland: “Columbus.”]
This punchline always kills, especially when I’m in Cleveland.
To your average Ohioan, everyplace is a foreign country; and thus, I never tire of trying to learn as much as I can from people who live (or have lived) there. But these people have to be real people, creative people.
And this brings me to the crux of this review: is there any place on earth more foreign than China? [No, North Korean doesn’t count.] To your average Ohioan, China is imponderable, impenetrable. The air pollution in Siloupo? Shadow banks? Investments in Detroit AND Toledo? (Two shitholes for the price of one!) The Diary of Government Official Hou Weidong? (Seven volumes!) And what’s the deal with all those gaudy, hand-waving golden cats? Or the confusion surrounding how to use the “Great Western Toilet?”
Enter: Turtle and Dam by Scott Abrahams (Chicago Center for Literature and Photography, 2014).
[For the sake of full disclosure: I’m part of CCLaP’s extended family. They published my novel Humboldt: Or, The Power of Positive Thinking in February.]
For anyone like me, anyone who doesn’t know where to begin in the quest to understand China, Turtle and Dam is a book to cherish. It’s smart, insightful, and extremely funny. In particular, Abrahams’ ability to humorously weave together the foreign and the familiar is nothing short of astounding. At the center of this confluence stands Turtle Chen. As a literary character, Turtle is utterly (to borrow a phrase from Jason Isbell’s twitter account) “undislikeable.”
The story begins at Wuhai University, which, according to Turtle, is “the academic institution which I am graduated from in May.” In particular, the action starts at the Wuhai University job fair, where students crumple up résumés and shoot them towards prospective employers like basketballs. Thanks to a fortuitous mistake (and not a crumpled up résumé), Turtle lands a job with the Xinhua News Agency. In Chapter Four, the reader learns that Xinhua is both the premier news agency in all of China and pure journalistic inanity. As a member of Xinhua’s young journalist training program, Turtle is required to write an article on the construction of a hydroelectric dam in the Liang River Valley. This assignment, which at first appears pointless, propels the plot forward, intertwining Turtle’s family, friends, and future.
So who is Turtle Chen?
“The first thing you will notice about me,” Turtle announces in the novel’s opening sentence, “is that my English is impeccable. I am the top student. I studied abroad in the USA at Princeton University in Princeton, New Jersey.” Turtle’s brief association with Princeton allows Abrahams to draw comparisons between Chinese and American cultures; for example, while comparing cities that he has lived in, Turtle declares: “I have lived in Wuhai and I have lived in Princeton, New Jersey, and if New Jersey can be considered America’s armpit then Wuhai must be something even less desirable, such as the nostrils or the anus.”
As the narrative progresses, it becomes obvious that Turtle is not 100% trustworthy. This is not to say that he is the cultural equivalent to Holden Chen (or should that be Turtle Caulfield?); rather, it is to say that Turtle, like the majority of job-seeking postgrads, is prone to exaggerations. For example, later in the novel, he admits that he’s not really “the top student.” He was ranked 273 out of 20,000. And his English is far from “impeccable,” which Abrahams deftly exploits to its fullest comedic value.
But despite the cultural difference and linguistic slip-ups, Turtle emerges from the story as a remarkably familiar portrait of a young man struggling to navigate the difficult post-college years. His struggles include managing maternal pressure towards marriage (“There was a very rapid transition from a one hundred percent prohibition on dating to one hundred percent pressure to find a girlfriend and get married”); his ever-deepening dependence on technology (his SinoPhone is “the top of the line model. It has Bluetooth. It has the internet. It has everything. It is the dream team”); the perils of doing laundry (black spots everywhere!); late-night meal options (in China, you apparently have to make a reservation at Pizza Hut!); and the frustrations and frequent humiliations of love (an insinuation that a female friend has a sugar daddy results in Turtle taking a mantou bun in the face).
Perhaps no scene better illustrates the novel’s skillful weaving together of foreign and familiar, and thus explains who Turtle Chen really is, like the moment when he opens the door to his grandmother’s house to discover two young police officers waiting to question him. Instead of being intimidated, Turtle quickly assesses the situation for what it really is: an interaction of three young men who watch too much American television. “So,” Turtle thinks, “my best guess is that both of us are quite excited to have such a perfect opportunity to act out our favorite dramatic scenes.”
As the conversation unfolds, the trio banters back-and-forth in hilarious NYPD Bluespeak, using phrases such as “so you want to play the hard ball,” “aha, so it looks like we have a wise guy on our hands,” and my personal favorite: “who is the good cop and who is the bad cop?”
No matter what foreign country you’re from, be it China or Ohio, what young adult wouldn’t relish the opportunity to engage in such a ridiculous conversation with a cop?
November 26, 2017
Hilarious read so far.
May 7, 2015
I really liked this book and totally recommend it. I've never been to China and was surprised by how much I related to the protagonist, a Princeton-educated only child named Turtle. Briefly, he's looking for a job in a thoroughly over saturated market, winds up employed by the state-run media agency by total happenstance/nepotism, and navigates ethical morass of reporting for the Chinese state. A lot of authors would have fallen into the trap of making this a humorless morality tale, but Scott Abrahams is a sharp wit and had me regularly laughing out loud. A priceless early scene has desperate job seekers contriving novel ways to get their resumes to the top of the bored employer reps' piles - something anyone who's been to a soul deadening jobs fair can relate to, but with some only-in-China twists.
It's a pretty quick read and the tone is generally light, but there are some really thought-provoking nuggets as well. Highly recommend it for anyone with even a passing interest in China.
It's a pretty quick read and the tone is generally light, but there are some really thought-provoking nuggets as well. Highly recommend it for anyone with even a passing interest in China.
May 1, 2014
Review to come.
July 5, 2014
Review to come.
Displaying 1 - 10 of 10 reviews