A fifteen-year Taiwanese family search unearths larger truths about the island country’s fight for freedom post-WWII (Taipei, Silai, other villages in Taiwan, 2010 to 2011; backstories Mainland China, Japan, New York City, elsewhere, 1947 to 1960s & beyond): “In 1947, Generalissimo Chiang Kai-Shek tried to kill my family. In 2010, I traveled to Taiwan to find out why,” writes Kim Liao, grabbing us at the opening line of Where Every Ghost Has a Name.
An amazing research and identity quest based on scant clues and an overabundance of doggedness and willingness to tackle a formidable, complex, emotionally painful journey. Setting out alone to a foreign country at twenty-six, Liao’s stick-to-itiveness to learn what happened to her paternal Taiwanese grandfather Thomas is an inspiring lesson on exhausting every possibility until you conclude some things are “unrecoverable.”
When do you know when it’s time to stop? A question that applies to Liao’s hunt for her grandfather’s ghosts, her father’s, and her paternal grandmother’s. (Liao’s mother’s roots are Ukrainian Jewish.)
Liao’s suspenseful storytelling is written in the creative nonfiction genre, reading like a puzzle within a puzzle within a puzzle. One mystery after another. A spy thriller. A connect-the-dots tale. One coincidence after another. One connection after another. With the added ingredient of the kindness of strangers, being in the right place at the right time, and meeting people no longer afraid to tell truths.
Crafted in novelistic prose that’s periodically interrupted by black-and-white images of photographs, articles, and historical documents Liao discovers over the years. Yet, obscured, entangled, and further complicated by the “whitewashing” of history and unfamiliar languages.
That’s not to say Liao didn’t prepare to learn spoken Taiwanese before she arrived, only to land in the country hit by the one-year class she took in Boston teaching, “The Wrong Kind of Chinese”: “simplified” Mandarin Chinese not the “traditional” Taiwanese languages spoken by the majority of the people – called Taiyu (Taiwanese Hokkien) or Guoyo (Taiwanese Mandarin). A rude awakening that foretells a ‘you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me’ reaction to Liao’s story.
How does this happen? How did anything you’re reading happen?
Consider the silencing of the ghosts Liao pays tribute to. “Survivors need their silence,” she says about victims of acute trauma. The deafening silence of thousands and thousands of ghosts “whispered to me, Find Us. Tell the world. Honor our sacrifice.”
“But how?” she asks. And then proceeds to walk us through her research approach and what it’s like to have barely any evidence and then mine it for all its worth, valiantly.
That silence begins within Liao’s family. It drove her pursuit: her father’s refusal to ever speak about his Taiwanese childhood. Her paternal grandmother’s resolute, resilient, and practical decisions; her childhood unknown too except for a small newspaper clipping of Anna at age twelve living in Chinatown, New York City under the protection of a missionary protecting abused children. Silent uncles, other than her father’s oldest brother who gave her two Chinese books in Mandarin Chinese, she couldn’t read. Her father’s oldest sibling, her Aunt Jeannine, said the most since she grew up during Japan’s occupation of Taiwan and was closest to her father Thomas.
Born and raised on Long Island, New York, Liao teaches creative writing at John Jay College of Criminal Justice in New York City. Her year-long trip to Taiwan was funded by a Fulbright Research Scholar award.
Eye-opening, you’ll come away with a better understanding of present-day China-Taiwan tensions. Disturbing reading about how Chiang Kai-Shek ruled Taiwan after WWII ended under an authoritative party – KMT or Kuomintang. America hailed him for having fought against the Communists in Mainland China led by Mae Zedong, founder of the People’s Republic of China. Meanwhile, Liao writes personally and historically of the nearly forty years the Taiwanese people were subjected to enforced martial law killing 70,000 Taiwanese people, highlighted by two brutal historical events.
The first a protest revolt in 1947 resulting in what’s known as the 228 Incident. It led into the White Terror Period that lasted until 1991. Taiwan’s National 228 Museum memorializes this long battle for freedom.
We read how three Presidential administrations supported Chiang Kai-Shek. Did our leaders know the truth about his “Free China” rule? About his “prison torture” regime on Green Island, “the most remote place.” A key diplomat, George Kerr, appears during this timeframe, with a sampling of his letters. Kerr’s just the tip of the iceberg crystallized by decades of violence, secrets, silence, fear, and a deliberate strategy to keep Americans in the dark publishing as little as possible in English.
Has Taiwan achieved its full independence? A question you’ll be wondering. Clearer is Taiwan’s recognition as a self-ruling government by the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP). Full independence is seen as debatable.
Liao was single-minded in finding her father’s childhood “ancestral home” in the village of Silai. A “palatial palace,” as Thomas’ family was wealthy, explaining how he (and his older brother Joshua) earned their doctoral educations in America at Ohio State University, where he met her grandmother Anna, promising her a “glamorous, easy life in Asia.” Nothing could be further from the truth.
To give you a sense of how difficult it was to navigate around Taiwan, look no further than Silai. Liao explains at the end that she stayed true to “how my family spelled it.” You’ll need to search other names for the town – Siluo or Xiluo – to find some references cited like Yanping Road, the old main street, and a dramatic bright red bridge that crosses over the Zhuoshui River, of historical and cultural significance.
Remarkable all the coincidences that kept breaking through the silence. For instance, what’s the chance that after only a few tries Liao finds the absolutely perfect apartment to rent for a year? Owned by a forty-year-old sympathetic woman who suggests they attend a nearby church service, where the newly arrived researcher meets the owner’s sister who tells her about a professor teaching a history class about her grandfather? What’s the chance the professor, Dr. Zhang Yan-xain, wrote the book her aunt gave her? That he’d be the “national expert” on the Taiwanese independence movement?
This pattern of connections continues repeatedly. Liao meets someone who tells/introduces her to another person who leads her to another and so on, like a phone tree.
Thomas’ older brother is the political philosopher. (He was a chemical engineer.) Joshua offers a hopeful yet fantastical message: “Words are mightier than tanks.” His idealism tempered by Kim Liao. The chapter “Knowing and Not Knowing” sums up how she feels about all she’s uncovered and still remains “a mystery to me.”