On the eve of WWII, the foreign-controlled port of Shanghai was the rendezvous for the twentieth century's most outlandish adventurers, all under the watchful eye of the fabulously wealthy Sir Victor Sassoon. ??Emily Hahn was a legendary New Yorker writer who would cover China for nearly fifty years, and play an integral part in opening Asia up to the West. But at the height of the Depression, "Mickey" Hahn, had just arrived in Shanghai nursing a broken heart after a disappointing affair with an alcoholic Hollywood screenwriter, convinced she would never love again. After entering Sassoon's glamorous Cathay Hotel, Hahn is absorbed into the social swirl of the expats drawn to pre-war China, among them Ernest Hemingway, Martha Gellhorn, Harold Acton, and the colourful gangster named Morris "Two-Gun" Cohen. But when she meets Zau Sinmay, a Chinese poet from an illustrious family, she discovers the real Shanghai through his the city of rich colonials, triple agents, opium-smokers, displaced Chinese peasants, and increasingly desperate White Russian and Jewish refugees—a place her innate curiosity will lead her to discover first hand. But danger lurks on the horizon and Mickey barely makes it out alive as the brutal Japanese occupation destroys the seductive world of pre-war Shanghai and Mao Tse-tung's Communists come to power in China.
Taras Grescoe was born in 1967. He writes essays, articles, and books. He is something of a non-fiction specialist.
His first book was Sacré Blues, a portrait of contemporary Quebec that won Canada's Edna Staebler Award for Non-Fiction, two Quebec Writers' Federation Awards, a National Magazine Award (for an excerpted chapter), and was short-listed for the Writers' Trust Award. It was published in 2000 by Macfarlane, Walter & Ross, and became a Canadian bestseller. Sacré Blues helped Taras fall in love with Quebec, and explained the origins of poutine to an eternally grateful country. The publisher let it go out of print, but used copies can be found starting at $89.23 on Amazon.
His second book, The End of Elsewhere: Travels Among the Tourists (2003), which was published by McClelland & Stewart, involved a gruelling nine-month journey by foot, rented Renault, India railway 2A sleeper, and túk-túk, from one End of the Earth (Finisterre in Galicia) to the other (Tianya Haijiao, the End of the Earth in Hainan, China). An exploration of the origins and consequences of mass tourism, The End of Elsewhere saw Taras walking from west to east along a thousand-year-old east-to-west pilgrimmage route, stuffing his belly on a cruise ship from Venice to Istanbul, and observing the antics of sex tourists in the flesh-pots of Thailand. It failed to win any prizes in Quebec, but was nominated for a national Writers' Trust Award, and was then published to great critical acclaim in England by Serpent's Tail. The New Yorker called it "A gloriously trivia-strewn history of tourism."
His third book, The Devil's Picnic: Around the World in Pursuit of Forbidden Fruit, was a real labor of love. Taras revived a post-adolescent interest in debauchery and (temporarily) turned it into a vocation, chewing coca leaves in Bolivia, scoring moonshine in Norway, and puffing on Cuban cigars in the smoke-easys in San Francisco. This one was published by Bloomsbury in New York, Macmillan in London, and HarperCollins in Toronto in 2005. The Picnic, critics seemed to agree, was a rollicking good read, with a serious subtext about the nanny state and the limits of individual liberty. It sold quite well, and was translated into German, French, Chinese, and Japanese, but didn't get nominated for anything. Apparently nobody wants to give writers prizes for having a really, really, good time (even with a serious subtext).
As for his fourth and latest book, Bottomfeeder, he really shouldn't have to tell you about it. You're soaking in it.
Taras is also a frequent contributor to the New York Times, the Independent, and National Geographic Traveler. He has written features for Saveur, Gourmet, Salon, Wired, the Guardian, the Globe and Mail, Maclean's, Men's Health, the Chicago Tribune Magazine, the International Herald Tribune, the Times of London, and Condé Nast Traveller. He has prowled nocturnally in the footsteps of Dalî and Buñuel in Toledo, Spain for National Geographic Traveler, eaten bugs for The Independent, and substituted for William Safire in the New York Times Magazine. His travel essays have been published in several anthologies.
He has twice been invited to appear at the Edinburgh Book Festival (where he learned to love brown sauce and vegetarian haggis), done the amazing Literary Journalism program at the Banff Centre (where he got the other writers ripped on authentic absinthe from the Val de Travers), and has led seminars on travel and food writing from the depths of Westmount to the heights of Haida Gwaii.
He lives on an island called Montreal, which can be found at the confluence of the Ottawa and Saint Lawrence Rivers.
I've enjoyed Taras Grescoe's earlier books (The Devil's Picnic, The End of Elsewhere). In his more recent works, he's taken on some serious topics (Straphanger, Bottomfeeder). With Shanghai Grand, he combines the scholarship of the more recent works with the freewheeling attitude of the earlier books. The result is an enthusiastic evocation of the era before World War II broke out, the expatriate community in Shanghai. It's full of journalists and industrialists and con men and drug dealers. Everyone is having affairs with everyone else and they're all drunk or drugged with opium. It's all very cinematic.
The purported center of the story is Emily Hahn, an American journalist and writer, but Victor Sassoon, a British real estate tycoon, is also prominent, as is Hahn's love interest (one of several), Chinese poet and playboy Sinmay.
I have to take issue with Grescoe's use of Hahn's fiction as a source for some of the stories he tells in the book. He says several times that her novels were "lightly fictionalized" versions of her life, but since she chose to write novels in addition to her memoirs and other nonfiction, it's problematic to use them as sources for what happened in real life. One episode seemed especially dicey -- the description of Sinmay and Hahn's first meeting, told from Sinmay's point of view. The notes cite sources from Hahn, not from Sinmay, and some of the sources were novels. Later in the book, we find that Sinmay took offense at the way Hahn portrayed him in her columns for The New Yorker.
It's a hugely entertaining book and a look at a romantic and exotic time and place.
Super interesting narrative account of some wild characters living through a chaotic and lesser-known series of historical episodes (China in the second half of the 1930s). There is a particular focus on three very interesting figures: the industrialist Victor Sassoon, the American writer Emily Hahn, and the Chinese poet Shao Xunmei (Anglicized as Zau Sinmay in the book).
Reads like fiction but isn’t.
Not a great deal to fault; would recommend, especially to people interested in the inter-war years or colonial history in East Asia (especially as it relates to life in cities like Shanghai and HK). This is a book that will make you want to go further down many rabbit-holes.
The best book I have read about the best period of Shanghai (the twenties and the thirties) so far. And I have read many. Highly recommened. There is hardly anything in it about the hotel. Fortunately, because I don't think it's such an interesting building architecturally. But there is EVERYTHING in it about Shanghai. Which is great. Exactly the book you are looking for if you want to escape from our current terrible age to the faboulous Shanghai of that age. Which was of course also terrible, if you were not rich, and Grescoe does not hide this.
I read anything I can get my hands on about Old Shanghai, and I'm also nursing a pretty serious obsession with New Yorker writer and one-time Shanghai resident Emily Hahn who even served as inspiration for one of the characters in my novel.
When I saw that Grescoe had written a book about these twinned interests of mine, I knew I would enjoy it, and there's no denying that the author skilfully brings the era roaring back to life. Reading this book, I felt such affinity with Grescoe, who also seems to have been intoxicated by the city on his first visit and unable to let it go.
While I was familiar with much of the material covered in Shanghai Grand, having some of Emily Hahn's books about her time in China, I still thoroughly enjoyed this romp through the city and would highly recommend it as an introduction to Old Shanghai for those who don't know much about the history of the Paris of the East. Shanghai Grand is meticulously researched and highly informative, but Grescoe has managed to combine scholarship with an obvious zest for the anything-goes era, and the resulting read is a top-tapper.
I shelved this book whilst volunteering at the library one day, and then I had to move it on the shelf a few days later, in order to shelve a different book next to it. I considered this a sign I should read it!
This was closer to a 3.5, as the book is a bit disjointed in its organization. However, it's still a highly readable tale of China during the 1930s and the foreigners who made it their home, especially Emily "Mickey" Hahn, who was an intrepid journalist and wrote for The New Yorker, among other publications. I'd never heard of her before, actually, but now I want to check out her books.
If a city could tell all the stories it has witnessed. The book has its high points and low points, but it does a very good job of immersing the reader in the Old Shanghai
When Sir Victor Sassoon left Shanghai for good, he kept with him a meticulous record of his life in the city, because "The day would come, he knew, when people would have difficulty believing a city as fantastic as Shanghai had ever existed."
Indeed, "Shanghai in the 1930's" has come to be synonymous with all that is elegant, glamourous, romantic. Naturally, there existed a side of the city that was ugly, seedy, cruel, and utterly devoid of human compassion.
I looked up the website of the former Hotel Cathay, now the "Peace Hotel", in Shanghai. Ever since its renovations, the hotel has regained something of its former grandeur. Of course, it is now merely one of many luxury hotels in the city, managed by the Fairmont Hotel chain.
Life in Shanghai is now, perhaps, much better for the average Chinese citizen, I doubt that the city has or will ever regain its reputation as the "Paris of the east". Whatever elegance or glamour that the city possessed had been destroyed when the Communist Red Army marched into Shanghai.
The star of the book is the city of Shanghai. The slightly lesser star is a young American lady, Emily "Mickey" Hahn who decides to live much of her adult life there. She is a free spirit causing scandal by her close relationship with a married Chinese poet. Mickey has numerous jobs but her principle income is through writing magazine articles, publishing personal memoirs and novels about Asia. There is a great amount of research done here as well as a great deal of information on Chinese history from 1850 to 1950.
Enjoyable to read, thoroughly researched, I am a China History buff, but still found this interesting and covering new ground. Great characters, this was a time of wealth power and abject poverty in Shanghai, a time of greed, corruption and a time when history made the world we now live in!
Delve into the history of Shanghai in the interregnum between two World Wars and you will find an assortment of characters involving taipans, buccaneers, fortune-seekers, soldiers-of-fortune, intrepid newsmen, shady underworld triad bosses, spies, Communist insurgents, political emigres and colourful Western adventurers taking residence in Shanghai. These names will crop up again and again: industrialist and magnate Sir Victor Sassoon and his son E.D. Sassoon (who constructed the famous Cathay Hotel); triad bosses Du Yue Sheng, Curio Chang and Pockmarked Huang; Morris ‘Two-Gun’ Cohen (bodyguard to Dr. Sun Yat-Sen); Trebitsch Lincoln (the spy called ‘abbott of Shanghai’); revolutionary fighters like Chang Hsueh Liang, newsmen like John B. Powell, Victor Sheean and Edgar Snow; writers and intrepid China chroniclers like Emily Hahn and John Gunther; literati poets and writers like Lu Xun and Zau Sinmay, just to name a few. All these moseying around the centre-stage action -- the seismic political and corrupt chicanery of Generalissimo Chiang Kai Shek and the Soong family in battling the early beginnings of Communism, Mao Tse-tung and the Japanese invasion.
Shanghai in Western depictions exists, almost to the exclusion of all else, in exoticised form, triggering evocations of sampan flotillas on the Huangpu River, complexes of ‘shukumen’ rowhouses, narrow courtyards and laneways, alleys reverberant with ‘rattles of mahjong tiles and scented with sweet almond broth [and] opium smoke’ (Grescoe, Prologue), sing-song girls, houses of ill-repute and cabarets. Shanghai, divided by Western imperialism as a result of China losing the Opium War (also when the term ‘gunboat diplomacy’ came into use), became a Treaty Port in 1842 and was subsequently divided into three areas of jurisdiction or concessions -- the International Settlement, the French Concession and the old Chinese municipality consisting of Hongkew, Chapei and Nantou.
In Taras Grescoe’s recent historical foray —Shanghai Grand: Forbidden Love and International Intrigue In A Doomed World (New York: St Martin’s Press, 2016), Grescoe, a journalist by training, takes on the history of Shanghai, zooming in especially on the period from post-WWI up through the repatriation of many of the above-mentioned figures during World War II. Shanghai Grand opens with the January 28, 1932 blast outside the Cathay Hotel, so-called the ‘Shanghai Incident’ which marked the first skirmish between China and the Empire of Japan, and then telescopes back in time to how the name Shanghai (上海 meaning ‘above the sea’) came about, how it evolved from a fishing village into the “Paris of the Orient” in the 1930s, and today, is one of the most populous cities in the world. Inescapable perhaps are three temporal signposts in the history of post-Manchu Shanghai: the brutal suppression of the Communist revolutionaries by Chiang Kai Shek in 1927, the Shanghai Incident of 1932 and the fall of Shanghai to the Japanese on August 14, 1937 (better known as Black Saturday). For those with some barebones knowledge of modern Chinese history, particularly of the conflicts between the Nationalist government and the Communists as played out in Shanghai, the first seven chapters of Grescoe’s book may read redundant, even simplistic, especially given the existence of other more nuanced and intricate historical accounts, particularly Sterling Seagrave’s The Soong Dynasty (1985) and Stella Dong’s Shanghai: The Rise and Fall of a Decadent City (2000).
What makes Grescoe’s historical account distinctive, and perhaps should have been the sole focus of the book, is his investigation into Emily Hahn’s years in Shanghai and Hong Kong (1935-1943), her “marriage” to poet Zau Sinmay, as well as her friendship with Sir Victor Sassoon. Using a research methodology that unearths and examines journal entries, fictional works (Emily Hahn alone wrote 52 books and contributed 181 articles to the New Yorker), private letters, newspaper accounts, historical treatments, photographic evidence, and interviews with progenies of Zau and Hahn, Grescoe pieces together, though there are many gaps, a coherent story of Emily Hahn’s affair with Zau and her years in Shanghai and Hong Kong.
It's a non-fiction account of Shanghai in the 1930s. "Paris of the East" with glamour, celebrities, money, drugs, corruption, abject poverty, rebellion, politics and intrigue.
The book is superbly researched, always a quality I admire. And I learned a lot about what was going on in Shanghai and China, and to a far lesser extent, the world. Not that I knew a lot to start off with, so learning this history was fascinating.
My quibbles are minor, which resulted in my 4/5 rating. One is that I found it somewhat disjointed, the flow of the narrative jumped a bit, so was jarring. That seemed odd to me. Two, it seemed to me that there was a slight lack of focus, which for instance is also reflected in the title. "Shanghai Grand" refers to the hotel, which certainly is a main focus of the book, around which the author can weave a lot of stories. The "forbidden love" refers to Mickey Hahn's love affair with a Chinese poet. Mickey Hahn was an American free spirit who lived in Shanghai for 8 years and another focus of the book was Mickey but her affair with the Chinese poet didn't take up that much of the book. So I just found the title misleading and as I say, a slight lack of focus in the narrative as well.
But these are minor quibbles. I was literally swept away by the romanticism of the time and place, juxtaposed with the corruption, abject poverty and intrigue and the terribly convoluted political landscape in China in the 30s.
A well written, well researched book where I can also learn about a part of history with which I was not familiar? That's a happy combination to me.
This book was a well- written account of Shanghai in its 1930s glory days when it was one of the top five cities in the world in terms of exciting night life, wealthy businesses and fabulous hotels. Unfortunately the many Westerners who visited and lived lavishly in this uniaue metropolis ignored the fact that thousands of Chinese citizens were living in dire conditions in the rabbit warren slums just below the skyscrapers and nightclubs and that the Japanese --while the corrupt Nationalist Chinese government was taking kickbacks --were beating down their doors. This story covers the lives of several colourful characters including journalists, movie stars, gangsters, and weathy businessmen who visited or inhabited this fiefdom. Among them were Victor Sassoon, whose millionaire family profited from the opium trade which simultaneously crippled China and opened it to the world, and who built the famous Cathay Hotel and and invested millions developing nightclubs and other businesses in the city, and Mickey Hahn, an American journalist and adventuress who lived, worked and partied in the city. Mickey also carried on with Zau Sinmay a Chinese poet and artist from a wealthy family but seemed really to care only for herself and her survival. Seldom has the stark contrast between the careless rich and the desperate poor been so evident and I found it difficult to have much sympathy for any of the main players. No wonder Mao and the Communists were so successful in transforming China..they won the hearts and minds of the people more than any of these characters did.
I agree whole-heartedly with this author's assertion that every book is a journey.
It feels like I didn't grasp everything he meant to share about international relations this time, but as that is one of my favourite topics, I think the answer is instead of picking apart this specific manuscript for every tiny thing I agreed or disagreed with, to take it back to the library for someone else to appreciate, and write more in the field for others to get their own ideas how to treat others.
I do enjoy the subject. It also felt like when I was in the IR course a few semesters ago I didn't understand then, either, so I do not mean to slight this author's writing. It is hard to communicate with someone of a different national origin.
A few years ago, I found a vintage copy of a book called China to Me by Emily Hahn. I enjoyed the book, full of dramatic (possibly partially fictional) depictions of a young woman's life in China just prior to WWII. I picked up this book having no idea it was the nonfiction story of Emily Hahn's life, and I think it was because I had already read one of her books that I enjoyed this one so much. It is equally her biography as well as an understanding of the complex nature of China during the 1930s. I highly enjoyed it.
The title of the book is correct. It is very much about the city of Shanghai and the Cathay Hotel there--past and present. I was looking for the Emily Hahn story and of course, that was very much a part of the Shanghai story. So much research went into this book; I am impressed. I like that it is sending me into reading more about China--because there is so much I don't know.
Emily Hahn was a remarkable woman. I am glad to have been introduced to her. Grescoe was able to interview her daughter and Zau Sinmay's daughters.
Unrivalled in reads, a docu-story on interwar Shanghai: gripping, heartbreaking, funny and surprising. Relationships are at the centre with Taras educating and exploring geography, culture and war. His writing style is such, and the story so fantastic, that not knowing the key cast I initially mistook this for a fiction. Journalists, poets, hoteliers and officials feature in this document of a city, as professional as Baltimore's depiction in The Wire. 10/5
Well researched non fiction history of Shanghai...emphasis on building of the Bund, WW II, Nationalists v Communists, with well placed tittle tattle. The Sassoon fortune, a Chinese poet, a very liberated female journalist from the Midwest, and a variety of other characters in a well written, enjoyable to read, telling of adventure, horrors, and the class struggle between cultures.
I loved this book because how could anything about Emily Hahn, Victory Sassoon, Zau Sinmay, and Morris Cohen be anything but stellar? The only thing that confused me was the focus of the book. Was it about that hotel as it seemed while reading it or about Sinmay as the author states in the beginning and end?
Fine vignettes of the Shanghai social experience during the 'golden' years which humanize names you've heard of.
Approachable and doesn't get lost in its own seriousness, all the while keeping the reader attuned to the bigger plot of China's national and the influence of international politics.
If you have lived in Shanghai, or plan to, this is a 'should/must read.'
A wonderful and evocative account of a fabulous city that we never knew existed. The doomed world of pre-war Shanghai with its glamour and charm: night clubs, grand hotels and list of larger than life characters: triple agents, spies, gangsters, taipans, Jews and White Russians, adventurers, Communist and Nationalists…the coming together of different cultures and finally the end of it all.
Was pretty good. Did not know anything about Shanghai in this time period. Very interesting. Well-researched, and told in a way that was not boring. History from the perspective of a small number of people.
Very good book. Includes a lot of information on Shanghai and what happened there before, during, and after WW2, as well as the details of the lives of some very interesting people. Highly recommended.
An absolute grand story about Shanghai in the 1930's and all its characters. The author is tracing what happened to Zau Simmay post war and revolution but his introduction of Emily Hahn is what interested me most.
I found the subject of the book intriguing and I did learn quiet a bit about the history of Shanghai but the book itself lacked focus and I struggled to get into it, especially in the beginning.
The Shanghai in Taras Grascoe's Shanghai Grand may no longer exist today, but a cinematic and riveting piece like this makes a great companion if you're traveling to Shanghai.
This sounded like an enjoyable listen: cosmopolitan Shanghai in the 1930s, which I'd heard was a glamorous and exciting place. But Taras Grescoe's book lacks focus. The title led me to expect a tale of the foreign colony in Shanghai. It's partly that, but it's also a great deal about the American writer Emily (Mickey) Hahn, whose columns for The New Yorker and the books that came out of them were very popular, and Victor Sassoon, a British businessman who owned, among other properties, the Cathay Hotel (the "Shanghai Grand" of the title).
If the book has a focus, it's on Hahn, but she doesn't even appear until Part Two, and Grescoe often drops her to write about other people and events. At least her backstory is presented coherently; Sassoon's is confusingly fragmented and events are repeated several times. Most critically, though, is that none of these colorful characters ever come to life, because Grescoe seldom quotes them. In the case of someone like Sassoon, whose literary output was limited to telegraphic entries in a diary, that is no loss, but Hahn was a prolific and lively writer. We get excerpts of her letters to family, but none of what made her a famous and popular writer. Her lover, Zhau Sinmay (the so-called "forbidden love" of the subtitle) was a poet, but we never hear him in his own voice. Nor do we hear from the novelists, playwrights, and many journalists who formed a large part of Shanghai's foreign colony.
Christine Marshall's reading suggests that she is an inexperienced narrator: she is over-expressive, as though she felt that she ought to be "contributing" something to the auditory experience, and she sometimes gives the impression that she didn't read the book before recording it. (For instance, when Grescoe writes that someone walking down a street in Shanghai "would have seen" something, she stresses "would" as though it meant "might.")