My Rating: 5 stars
Karissa Chen’s debut Homeseeking is a novel
that resonated deeply with me, to the point that I’m honestly not sure where to
begin in terms of writing this review. There
is so much to unpack with this story, which is very aptly described as both
simultaneously “epic” and “intimate” as it follows two childhood sweethearts
across six decades and two continents.
The narrative begins with the inciting incident that essentially
triggers the rest of the events that occur: in 1947 Shanghai, amidst the Chinese
civil war, Wang Haiwen decides to secretly enlist in the Nationalist army in
order to save his brother, leaving behind not only his family, but also his girlfriend
and soulmate Zhang Suchi – a decision that ends up changing the trajectories of
both lives in profound ways. The story
then jumps to Los Angeles in 2008, where Haiwen and Suchi (now going by their
American names “Howard” and “Sue”) are unexpectedly reunited when they bump into
each other at the local 99 Ranch Market.
As the two reminisce about the past, it becomes clear that they have
both endured and survived circumstances that changed them – whereas Haiwen continues
to hold his memories close to his heart, Suchi insists on only looking forward
and letting the past stay in the past. From there, the narrative weaves back
and forth in time, tracing the path of both characters’ lives within the
context of Chinese history (i.e.: WWII and the Japanese occupation, the Chinese
civil war, the Great Famine and the Cultural Revolution, etc.) to reveal the
circumstances that led up to that reunion.
Notably, the narrative not only alternates between both main characters’
points of view -- with Haiwen’s story moving backward in time, from the present
to the past, while Suchi’s story moves forward from the past to the present,
with both story arcs ultimately re-converging again in the present – it also follows
them across continents, from Asia (Shanghai, Hong Kong, Taiwan) to North America
(California and New York). Throughout their
separate (and at times very disparate) journeys and despite the many changes
that their lives undergo, one thing that remains constant in in terms of Haiwen’s
and Suchi’s relationship is the determination to never lose sight of the meaning
of home (including their parents and the sacrifices they made), which they
continue to keep in their hearts no matter where they end up.
There was actually so much I loved about this book – the beautiful
writing, the poignant, moving story arc, the authentic portrayal of history and
culture, the complex structure that was executed near flawlessly, the wonderful
character development (I honestly did not want to let go of these characters
even after I finished reading the book), just to name a few. But what made this the ultimate reading
experience for me was the fact that I was able to connect with the story on all
levels, from the overarching themes to the minute details about the settings,
language, culture, history, etc.
While on the surface, Homeseeking may appear
to be a love story that highlights the enduring power of love to transcend time
and place, I would argue that the story actually goes way deeper than that. Yes, there are indeed elements of a love
story – specifically about two star-crossed lovers who are fated to find their
way back to each other (given the epigraph, I don’t think it’s a coincidence
that I found Haiwen and Suchi’s fated/fateful love relationship to be reminiscent
of Shijun and Manzhen from Eileen Chang’s famous classic Half a Lifelong
Romance) – but for someone like me who grew up as part of the Chinese
diaspora in Los Angeles, I found special meaning in this story that went beyond
the romance / love story elements.
First, the setting – for the parts of the story that took
place in Los Angeles, I loved seeing the mentions of so many places that I was
familiar with – for example: Monterey Park and San Gabriel are usual haunts for
most of us in the LA Chinese immigrant community (if you want the best authentic
Chinese food in LA, those are the places to be) and of course, the 99 Ranch
Market is as ubiquitous to us as H Mart is to the Korean community (I will
admit that as I was reading, I did have one of those book nerd moments where I was
tempted to research whether the 99 Ranch Market that Haiwen and Suchi meet at is
the same one I frequent, LOL). I also
got a kick out of the scenes about encountering rush hour traffic on the
freeways and the mentions of how long it takes to get from one place to another
in LA (story of my life right there, haha).
In terms of setting though, Los Angeles wasn’t the only
connection for me to the story. I was
born in Hong Kong, my mom is from Shanghai, and some of my relatives live in
Taiwan, so those are all places that are more than familiar to me, whether from
a history, culture, cuisine, language, geography, etc. aspect (it always
elevates the reading experience when I’m able to recognize so many of the cultural,
historical, etc. elements in a book).
With that said, one of the biggest things that made this book
such a meaningful read for me was the way that the author, Karissa Chen,
handled the language aspect. Not only does Chen not directly translate many of
the Chinese words and phrases in the book (with the exception of the few
instances where she added notes in the back of the book for context), she also incorporates
the local language and/or dialect based on the region that those scenes are set
in. For example, in the scenes set in
Shanghai, the names as well as Chinese words and phrases are in Shanghainese
(with some Mandarin depending on the situation), the scenes in Hong Kong are in
Cantonese, the ones in Taiwan are in both Taiwanese and Mandarin. Even “Chinglish”
was incorporated into some of the scenes set in Los Angeles! In her “Note on
Languages” at the beginning of the book (which is an absolute must read in
order to understand the structure of the story), Chen explains her approach in
structuring the language in this manner as a way to faithfully represent both the
different languages in Chinese-speaking communities as well as the lived
experiences of those who have to navigate multiple languages on a daily basis:
“One of the challenges in writing an English-language
story about the Chinese and Taiwanese diaspora is figuring out how to
faithfully represent the different Sinitic languages spoken in different
regions (and sometimes even within the same region). Because the Chinese
written language uses a representational (versus phonetic) system, the same
written word has many different pronunciations, depending on what language the
speaker is using. This includes names. Given that my characters move within
various Chinese-speaking regions of the world, I wanted to make sure to denote
their code-switching in a way that would feel accurate. Therefore, each
character may be referred to in a multitude of ways and may even broaden or
change the way they think of themselves given a situation or over time. For
this reason, chapters have not been labeled by character names, as our
characters’ names evolve over time… For many people in the world,
learning more than one language is a necessity, either because of migration or
simply because the place they live in is a global one and survival dictates it.
It is a skill that requires an ability to adapt and challenge oneself, and for
many immigrants, it’s one of the most difficult, humbling, and uneasy parts of
coming to a new country. If you, the reader, find yourself confused, I hope
instead of giving up, you might take a moment to imagine what it must be
like for those who have to navigate this on a daily basis, and then forge
onward.”
I love and appreciate the fact that Chen not only pays such
meticulous attention to language usage, but also makes a genuine effort to
reflect our code-switching as well. In
my case, it so happens that all the Chinese languages and dialects used in the
book (Mandarin, Cantonese, Shanghainese, Taiwanese, and yes, “Chinglish,” which
was actually the language of my childhood) are also ones that I’m familiar with
due to being amongst a community of family, friends, and relatives who speak one
or more of these languages on a constant basis.
As an avid reader of English-language books about the Chinese diaspora, I
can’t emphasize how rare it is to encounter a book that strives to represent the
various Chinese-speaking regions in such a thoughtful and sincere way (though
it’s not just the language – the historical and cultural elements are authentically
represented as well). For me, this attentiveness to authenticity alone makes
this an absolutely worthwhile read!
As this review is already quite long, I won’t go into every
aspect of the book that made it such a personal and rewarding reading experience
for me, but I have to mention one more thing:
this book made me cry genuine tears – not just because of the moving
story (though yes, that definitely played a role), but because the familiarity and
personal connections I felt to so many aspects of the story made me feel seen
and understood in a way that no reading experience has made me feel in a very
long time; to encounter books like this one is one reason why I read!
Definitely pick this one up if you get a chance, as it’s a
5+ star read that’s well worth the time (especially highly recommended if you’re
a fan of Eileen Chang’s works like I am).
