Peach Blossom Spring
Ratings17
Average rating4.3
A moving debut novel about war, migration, and the power of telling stories, Peach Blossom Spring follows three generations of a Chinese family on their search for a place to call home. With every misfortune there is a blessing and within every blessing, the seeds of misfortune, and so it goes, until the end of time. It is 1938 in China and, as a young wife, Meilin's future is bright. But with the Japanese army approaching, Meilin and her four year old son, Renshu, are forced to flee their home. Relying on little but their wits and a beautifully illustrated hand scroll, filled with ancient fables that offer solace and wisdom, they must travel through a ravaged country, seeking refuge. Years later, Renshu has settled in America as Henry Dao. Though his daughter is desperate to understand her heritage, he refuses to talk about his childhood. How can he keep his family safe in this new land when the weight of his history threatens to drag them down? Yet how can Lily learn who she is if she can never know her family's story? Spanning continents and generations, Peach Blossom Spring is a bold and moving look at the history of modern China, told through the story of one family. It's about the power of our past, the hope for a better future, and the haunting question: What would it mean to finally be home?
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Hey, did you like Pachinko (more than me)? Are you keen on multigenerational Asian historical fiction? Like great writing? This one's for you, then.
Meilin is newly married in 1938, but with war headed their way her future is uncertain. With only her son Renshu, a beautiful hand painted scroll, and what little they can throw together, they're forced to flee an oncoming Japanese army. Renshu is raised on tales Meilin tells from the scroll, as together they make new lives for themselves over and over again as they're forced to flee again and again from places they try and start fresh in. As Meilin's story in Taiwan gives way to Renshu's story in America, and finally Renshu's daughter Lily trying to figure out who she is, we get to know this family's struggle, and how events of the past can shape a person in the future.
This one took me a bit to get into, but once I got into it (about when Meilin flees with Renshu the first time), it really sucked me in. The writing is exceptional, and really painted a picture of Meilin, her family, and what China looked like in her time. It's a multigenerational tale in the same way Pachinko is, but I thought this one was written a bit better and didn't overstay its welcome as much, so I enjoyed it more. I will say I think I was more invested in Meilin's story in the beginning, and Lily's story at the end, than I was with Renshu's story in the middle. Maybe his story would resonate with me more if I were more familiar with Chinese politics in America at the time, as it felt like I was missing context in the story for Renshu's paranoia. I really felt for Lily trying to figure out who she is, sandwiched between America and China and wanting to understand where she came from.
I really enjoyed this one though, despite my mild hangups with Renshu's point of view. Great writing and a sad story.
Unexpectedly powerful. Fu paints with broad and fine strokes; she's much better at fine, but the broad is necessary in an epic like this. Her eye for everyday detail makes scenes vivid and believable. Her sensitivity to emotion makes the story compelling, although, to be honest, her characters felt a little too pat at times. Just a tad too noble. But I'm ok with it.There's a lot of pain all throughout: the suffering of nonstop war, that of paranoia and suspicion, the loneliness of hiding inside oneself. Of being unable to connect. I kept flashing back to [b:Fukuyama 57980 Trust The Social Virtue and the Creation of Prosperity Francis Fukuyama https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1409522132l/57980.SY75.jpg 56475] and his exploration of high- and low-trust societies; here we see the human cost of low trust and how it can—but does not have to—ripple across and down over time. Fu admits in an afterword that the story has parallels to hers and her family's: I felt that while reading, but it was never blatant or uncomfortable. Kudos to Fu for transforming life experience into a memorable story.For me the theme that kept hitting hardest was the heaviness of living with ourselves after hard choices. Most of the characters carried that burden, each in different ways. It hurt to read. I don't expect insights like these from so young a writer, and feel crushed that she's able to describe that so effectively. And right now, what I feel most strongly is the need to reread [b:Kundera 9717 The Unbearable Lightness of Being Milan Kundera https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1265401884l/9717.SY75.jpg 4489585].
This book is a novel, but it has an organic, truthful feel. I could believe it to be true. The amount of research Fu has done truly brings the story to life. The storytelling flows well, the flowing by, yet taking time to paint beautiful pictures along the way. Joy is woven in the pain and sadness. Beauty is found in destruction. Wounds can heal, even decades later. From this book, I take away this lesson. Hearts are like soil. When left untended, uncared for, they are incapable of growing a life of beauty or the ability to give to others. When we take the time to address the pains and fears in our hearts, to look for the beauty around us, and let those who love us water our hearts, our lives produce a natural beauty that blesses everyone around us.
