Orphan of Asia doesn't stand out as a novel, but it still rings true as a universal cry for justice.
Orphan of Asia isn't a great literary work, the way, say, Achebe's African Trilogy is. True, one of the things that set Achebe apart was his subverting use of the colonizer's language, and Wu wrote in Japanese, the language of the empire that ruled over Taiwan at the time. But we can't judge him in this respect without the original, which is sadly not available in digital format. Mentzas's English translation seems adequate at the sentence level, and I'm not sure we can blame him for the often erratic pacing of the novel. Wu tells things he should show and shows things he should tell. During the first chapters, he sometimes abandons Taiming's story of initiation to launch into a family saga, as if he were writing The Dream of the Red Chamber or The Tale of Genji. At the same time, in the last third of the book Wu forgets to include key characters, whose fates are unknown for good plot reasons, in the thoughts of the protagonist despite repeatedly dipping into his mind. The fact that Orphan of Asia sometimes reads more like a pamphlet than a novel doesn't help either.
And yet there are memorable scenes, like when Taiming climbs up the Ladder to the Clouds with his grandfather in the opening pages or when he first sees Shuchun standing up on the train's seat to take her luggage from the rack:
"The spring sun was warm on Hu Taiming's back as he kept count of the stepping-stones that studded the backyard path to the little hill, up which his grandfather led him by the hand. The path ran through a small woods, and nameless little birds chirped and flitted from branch to branch around them. Taiming was short of breath and had lost count of the stones, and his grandfather was nowhere to be seen. Puffing, he caught up with the old man, who was waiting quietly for him at a level spot on the slope. (...)
The old man seemed ready for a smoke. He tied his bandanna back on, sat down on a rock, packed purple tobacco into his beloved long bamboo pipe and, after having Taiming light it for him, began, with relish, to make it hiss. The protracted hissing was familiar to Taiming. It carried him into a realm of curiously nostalgic feeling like the enticing prelude to the unraveling of a long tale."
"Two tiny indentations, left by her Shanghai shoes, remained where she had stood. So charmingly small were they that he forgave her lack of consideration, and his brain retained the imprints long after the velveteen surface had lost all trace of them."
Having lived in Taiwan at various times during a period of five years, I have a soft spot for the country. But even if you've never heard of the place, I think Orphan of Asia can, at times, transport you to the island's incredibly biodiverse landscapes and show you a glimpse of its hodgepodge of cultures, particularly the clash between Chinese and Japanese traditions. One minute the characters are reciting Li Bai and pondering the teachings of Confucius and Mencius, and the next they're walking on tatami floors, wearing yukatas and drinking saké. Of course, Orphan of Asia is no touristic brochure: it tells harrowing tales of the Second Sino-Japanese War and colonial opression. It is, above all, the story of Taiming's identity crisis after traveling to Japan and mainland China only to be spurned by both nations and experiencing firsthand the horrors of war. And while Taiming is not as complex as Obi Okwonko from No Longer at Ease, Wu, like Achebe, portrays an array of attitudes around colonialism and shows the shortcomings of not only the colonizers but also the colonial subjects. In other words, it paints a human picture of a terrible time. Hopefully reading and taking these stories to heart can help, in a very small way, to prevent the cruelty and suffering they depict from being repeated in the future.