Hello! Below is my book critique of Kenneth Pai’s Taipei People. Kenneth Pai is a Chinese literary giant that pioneered modern Chinese/Chinese American literature. I was also honored to get to interview him in the podcast episode attached.
In Taipei People, Pai Hsien-Yung (Kenneth Pai) captures a hauntingly beautiful snapshot of Chinese identity through the lives of Waishengren, mainland Chinese like Pai who fled to Taiwan during the Chinese Civil War.
Often bourgeoisie or military, many Waishengren brought cultural artifacts over to Taiwan that still remain on the island. However, Pai’s stories hold one treasure above all: memories of youthful romance and revolution. This treasure hypnotizes Pai’s characters into a state of inertia — they are unable to put down the past to confront the present. To them, a life in Taiwan or in the West could never surpass their memories of the mainland. Pai does not pass moral judgement on the cause of his characters’ displacement — little is said about Communist forces or of the native Taiwanese. His fourteen short stories focus on these exiled Chinese spirits who stubbornly hold onto the dreams of an aborted republic.
Pai’s people are my people — my maternal grandfather arrived in Taiwan as a young Nationalist Party official tasked with managing the Japanese handover while my paternal grandfather evacuated the mainland as a Republic of China air force mechanic. My image of them is patched together solely from the perspective and experiences of their dutiful children — my parents.
One grandfather’s temperamental brilliance lives on in my mother’s wistful smile as she recalls how he pushed her to graduate top of her class but refused correspondence for years after she opted not to attend Stanford’s business school. The other’s sturdy handicraft survives in my father’s steady hand which built the dental practice that supports our family. Separated from my ancestors by oceans of time and space, I never had the opportunity to be regaled by their dalliances, daydreams, and regrets. Thankfully, Pai’s vivid artistry and Patia Yasin’s nuanced co-translation have helped me fill a crucial void in my family history. Their stories offer a brief glimpse into the private lives of my ancestor’s peers: socialites, taxi girls, and retired military men from across China who while away their days dreaming of the mainland. Each toast of Kaoliang liquor, each playful barb traded over mahjong tiles, and each retelling of a well-worn war story breathes more life into my grandparents’ memory.
“Don’t forget that you will always be Chinese.” No statement was emphasized to me more during my childhood. But as the world is presented with a Chinese culture drastically different from the one my grandparents sought to preserve, I find myself constantly questioning what being Chinese means to me in 2020. Who dictates the direction of Chinese identity? How will I convey my heritage to my future children? While Pai’s vignettes do not provide me with all of the answers, they offer intimate insight into my past that frees me to determine my own future.
Kenneth Pai, Taipei People, and Chinese Identity