As usual, Anchee Min astounds with her use of relatively simple English that still affects the heart.
"I went to work dressed in stars and came back to the tent carrying the moon on my head."
I would recommend this book to anyone who is planning on being an ESL teacher, particularly those headed to Asia.
SPOILERS BELOW...
I had a hard time understanding what language the narrator and Katherine are using throughout the book. She speaks of how Katherine's Chinese is improving, but no real analysis is given, so when it comes to parts of the novel where phrases like 'You have to judge by the concrete content of your experience, and not by its conformity with purely theoretical standards,' are being spoken, I have a hard time believing it goes understood in either language between the two characters.
Overall, I feel like perhaps more research needed to be done regarding some of the finer points of the plot to make it more believable. Since I read Min's memoir prior to this novel, I felt like I, personally, could really feel what Min was speaking about from first-hand experience and what she had fictionalized and created.
I HATED Katherine. I didn't like her at a character at all. She was kinda flat, but beyond that, completely naive, to the point where I really felt like she made Americans look bad. Perhaps this was part of the purpose, but I ended up feeling bad for the narrator, who was so incredibly in love with Katherine by the end of the book. I felt that Katherine didn't deserve any of it, as she was truly blind for most of the book. She didn't want to play by the rules because she saw herself as somehow above them since she was an American, and that, in part, was what the narrator admired about her: the ability to be above and beyond the great propaganda machine that rules China even to this day.
Some of my favorite quotes from the book:
"We waited patiently until Mao died on September 9, 1976, only to discover that the pictures blurred with passing time, that the ink on the posters dripped with the wash of each year's rain, that the paper peeled off and was blown away by the wind, that our youth had faded without a trace. We 'awakened' with horror, and our wounded souls screamed in devastation. How am I to explain what I have become?"
"Our heads were jars of Maoist pork marinating in five-thousand-year-old feudalist soy sauce."
"A little girl, playing with her dolls in a garden. I began to see the picture. I could also picture myself, wearing shoes with the soles falling off, walking the streets on a rainy day, collecting pennies for starving American children. I could see the young Katherine singing songs, visiting an imaginary zoo in her backyard, and I remember how I had to kill my only pet--a hen with the reddest crown--to heed Mao's call to abolish disease in the city and prove one's loyalty. I listened to Katherine talk about her loneliness as a child, and I thought of how many nights I was left waiting at the gate of my daycare school, the last one to be picked up, waiting for my parents to finish their shifts, and the times they never showed. The images mixed, superimposed themselves on each other, and her tears became mine, and mine hers."