No comments about Chance and Design: Reminiscences of Science in Peace and War.

5 comments about The Territory of Men: A Memoir.

1. Joelle Fraser's book neatly avoids the tendency of many contemporary memoirs to fall into tedious (or tawdry) abstracted navel-gazing. Instead, you get a real sense of engagement as the author makes a serious attempt to understand her own upbringing and its effects on her life and lifestyle. Concrete detail abounds, both in the narrative storytelling and in the exploration of Fraser's internal landscape. The subtle force of the writing will creep up on you.



2. Erica Jong, Dani Shapiro, Mary Karr, Elizabeth Wurtzel. I love them all. They kept me involved in their stories, and I am grateful for the pleasure of reading them in my bedroom, because believe me, there is no way I could lure these very intelligent, beautiful ladies in real life, into my bedroom. And they are not ashamed to say they are beautiful and intelligent. Just as Marlon Brando/Tennesse Williams says to Blanche, in "Streetcar" (paraphrase), "I never met a dame yet, who didn't know if she was goodlookin', or not". They know they are so why play games? The only one of this group who really irks me, is Dani Shapiro, who in "Slow Motion", complains of this terrible man who takes her to Paris and almost at gunpoint forces her to stay in the most luxurious hotel, and eat in four star restaurants! What a sadist he was! Also good coke was in on the deal. But how could she be happy? HE LIED TO HER ABOUT HIS WIFE AND CHILD! Oy vey. I should only know such suffering. Another thing about memoirs such as "The Territory of Men" is the almost total recall of incidents that happened maybe five, ten, or twenty years ago, like, "I remember in 1969, he had that red shirt on, and was drinking coffee from the yellow mug, when he turned to page 12 of the Feb. 6 issue of Life magazine", etc. Do you remember anything that happened at lunch last Tuesday dear reader? Okay,now that I got my clever little shtick out, I would like to say Joelle Fraser writes beautifully, particularly about Hawaii, where she grew up, the child of a hippy flower child mom, and a hard drinking would be writer dad. Folks, I don't know if you feel old but the Children of the hippies are writting books and that means I am definitely phasing out on Planet Earth. Right on Joelle! Enjoy every minute of this, because the critics are sharpening their pencils for anyone who has the temerity to write a successful book. If you want to have some fun Joelle, read the reviews for Norman Mailer's, and James Jones' SECOND books, after "The Naked and the Dead", and "From Here to Eternity". Bloodshed, pure bloodshed.



3. As a Sausalito native who just missed the 60's, I was eager to read Fraser's take on this little coastal tourist town full of folks a little too offbeat to stay put in nearby San Francisco. From the first page, I was stuck. Fraser's powers of pacing, description, and presence make the vignettes of 30-plus years fly on by. She seems appropriately confident in her ability to craft narrative-based scenarios that deliver years of significance. The best part? No vindictiveness. No self-righteousness. No exhausting self-analysis. Fraser hands us the gift of her paragraphs: forward-moving, heartfelt, and the product of a powerful wordsmith. I am already waiting for her next title.



4. This young woman stumbles through life obsessively pursuing her own happiness, and seems surprised that she never finds it. Blonde, slender, intelligent, and skilled at manipulating men, she frequents dive bars in Hawaii and San Francisco, attends college, and blames her parents because she isn't happier. Perhaps the price she pays for her independence is that she never really cares about what happens to anybody else. Has she ever thought about people who had it much, much worse than she? You'd never know it from this book.

   Fraser's memoir is most engrossing when she describes growing up in the free-form, no-rules, do-your-own-thing culture that flourished in California during the 60's and 70's. Continually shuffled between her alcoholic father and man-crazed mother, she is deprived of the stability that she obviously desperately needs. More than once, we get the premonition that something awful is going to happen to her, but unless this reviewer is failing to read between the lines, she never encounters anything worse than that which most adolescents deal with on a consistent basis. The chapter on her experience teaching in the medium security prison provides a good example: we see the chance she is taking just by being there; trouble breaks out and she runs towards it rather than away, but in the end nothing bad actually happens to her.

   More interesting might have been a book about her mother, who actually suffers from some of the problems that Fraser only references second-hand. We are told that there were drunken orgies, a continual stream of men, substantial physical abuse, a number of failed marriages, a victory over alcoholism, and a developing interest in Native Americans, but usually the little girl in the background is sent off to her room, and doesn't really have much in the way of insights or information to share with us. Another missed opportunity is the section on her cousin Karyn, who was murdered (by being stabbed forty-two times) by her boyfriend. A little investigative reporting might have been in order here, because the bare facts we get don't really explain very much. The lessons that Fraser draws from the story are significant enough, but one is reminded of a number of great writers who have done entire books about murders that were no more brutal than this one.

   This is by no means a bad piece of writing, but it seldom manages to evoke the empty decadence of the times. Most of the book is far more personal than historical, providing an overview of this young woman's relationship with her parents without betraying any really powerful emotions. Doesn't she resent her parents for raising her like a circus animal? Isn't she angry about the way they ship her back and forth, from one school to another, never letting her grow comfortable anywhere? Some genuine emotion might lend pathos to a document that, viewed from the outside, isn't really that noteworthy. Let's hope that this talented writer's next effort finds her able to penetrate past her own cool exterior, and dig at the roots of what she's really feeling.




5. Joelle Fraser writes a very honest, sweet memoir that is a pleasant change from the usual brag memoir. She takes us on a journey through growing up and understanding ourselves and the ones we love. She allows us to see the painful as well as the pleasurable moments in that growth and I find this very refreshing. Also, being a lover of Hawai'i, I enjoyed the brief journey to that state as well!

1 comments about The Road Runner: An American Odyssey.

1. John Stover describes himself as a recovering drug addict and alcoholic. This self-published volume is littered with typos, but this does not overwhelmingly detract from its being a good read that will no doubt be useful in helping some people to change their lives. It is written in an in-your-face confessional style, which, of course, is appealing to many these days.
   
   In it he attempts to make amends for past wrongdoings, and he "tells it like it is" when it comes to "wrongs" that he has committed and that he believes have been committed against him - including living family members. He sometimes diagnoses the "roots" of the problems of others who have scorned him, although he has no formal training in psychology.
   
   An odd feature of the book is that while he makes it clear that he is "promoting" the AA, NA, etc. lifestyle, those organizations themselves are founded upon anonymity. (Saint Bill W. himself was tempted to self-promote, so who can "blame" John Stover for succumbing to the temptation?) Perhaps odder still is that although this book is autobiographical, Stover alters his last name within its pages. (What's the point of that?)
   
   ROAD RUNNER could be instrumental in turning around the lives of troubled individuals with an emotional maturity level below the age of 24, and so should not be dismissed out of hand despite its being in need of professional editing. You don't have to be an addict (active or recovering) to enjoy Stover's flowing, and by turns acerbic and romantic prose style. It certainly appears to have been written from the heart by a recovering addict.

1 comments about Charity's Children: The Tway it Was.

1. IF you want an authentic sense of Appalachian roots, imagination, and human enterprise, read Lois Kelly's CHARITY'S CHILDREN or Lee Smith's ORAL HISTORY.

1 comments about Tales from Sacred Wind: Coming of Age in Appalachia: the Cratis Williams Chronicles. (Contributions to Southern Appalachian Studies, 8).

1. The stories of Cratis Williams are essential for the getting a glimpse of Appalachia. He is/was indeed the leading spokesperson and scholar of life in the Applachian Mountains. These stories deal mostly with his childhood growing up in rural Eastern Kentucky. These stories are unforgettable and profound.

   Cratis Williams eventually came to Boone, North Carolina to teach school. He returned again after receiving his Ph.D. from New York University. Appalachian State University's graduate school is named for him.

   "The Cratis Williams Chronicles: I Come to Boone" is another book that goes into detail about his coming to the high country of North Carolina. Highly Recommended.

   If you're at all interested in peeling back the stereotypical images of Appalachia and peering into a region with soul and character, give Cratis Williams a read.

5 comments about A Joyful Noise: Claiming the Songs of My Fathers.

1. I LOVE this book! Before I read this book, a family friend of mine read it and highly highly recommended it. When I started this book, I couldn't put it down, thats the kind of book it can be for certain people. The reason why this book was a huge page-turner for me, was because I felt relate to the author in many different levels. (...)This book isn't just text on a few pages to me, it is guidence for my life.



2. "A Joyful Noise," Deborah Weisgall's serious and brooding memoir, is far from a fluffy celebration of music and Judaic heritage. Its subtitle, "Claiming the Songs of My Fathers," more accurately captures the sense of conflict and struggle which permeates the life of a talented, tormented and frustrated young woman, who at once soars with the rich musical background of both her father and grandfather but simultaneously is denied participation and validation because of her gender. "A Joyful Noise" elicits both compassion and anger from the reader; one senses that had the author been born some twenty years later she would have had much more direct access to both her own talents and her clearly-articulated love for her heritage. The author does not disguise the central theme of her memoir. After a disappointing experience at a Passover seder, Deborah expresses her yearning to join her father and grandfather as full participants in both music and heritage. "I hummed the songs as quietly as I could, aching to get them right, afraid that my father would hear my wrong notes and correct me. They ran perfectly through my head but not from my mouth. I loved them. I wanted them." Yet, she understands that her ambition does not correspond with the very heritage she so deeply desires. Segregated, minimized and isolated due to sexist traditions and practices, Jewish women have had to sublimate their otherwise honorable ambitions into other avenues of expression. Sensing that possibility, even as a child, Deborah laments: "My desire was as strong as theirs; my voice was not. My breath stalled against my vocal cords, and the back of my throat throbbed from stopped-up songs and angry tears. I wanted to sing. I wanted to be heard." Weisgall's quest for authenticity, for voice, occurs during a period of national affluence and cultural indifference in the 1950s and on the cusp of our nation's profound social revolution of the 1960s. Deborah comes of age in a tension-riddled family; her non-religious mother, Nathalie, is indifferent to housework, and her beloved father, Hugo, consistently produces operas which are artistically gifted but critical failures. The Weisgalls constantly move from their Baltimore roots, whether it be to Maine for summers, or from college town to another, where Hugo can sustain his family's material needs while he tries to fulfill his own battered expectations as an artist. Deborah realizes the discord in her family is real; her mother's physical beauty cannot hide her bitterness just as her father's rapture with musci cannot hide his own frustration with failure and betrayal. Looming like a dense cloud over the family is the Holocaust, whose disruptive horror has created a permanent sense of dread and loss. In a desultory search through her parents' closet, Deborah discovers a shoe-box stuffed with raw and brutal photographs of cocentration camp victims. She understands in a visceral sense the impact of genocide on her father, who directly witnessed the horrific scenes while he served as a translator for the liberating United States Army during World War II. The Weisgalls are derivative survivors, having lost their past, their roots, their culture through the Holocaust. The author is able to trace the genesis of family friction to this loss of place. Nathalie, a lover of beauty, flounders in America; Hugo, linked in memory to his childhood in Czechoslovakia, wrestles with his own struggle to match his father (Abba) without the support of cultural stability and identity. The memoir is not without its faults. Unless one has a solid grasp of opera and classical music, Weisgall's detailed descriptions of her artistic passion tend to overwhelm the reader. Deborah's ultimately successful climb to identity occurs too abruptly, as well. Her ultimate chapters, which recount her experiences as Radcliffe and her emergence as an independent, secure woman, appear rushed and lack the elegant detail so prevalent throughout descriptions of her childhood. Nevertheless, this serious and introspective work deserves the critical praise it has garnered. "A Joyful Noise" deftly interweaves music, religious heritage and family into a tapestry both instructive and inspiring.



3. "A Joyful Noise," Deborah Weisgall's serious and brooding memoir, is far from a fluffy celebration of music and Judaic heritage. Its subtitle, "Claiming the Songs of My Fathers," more accurately captures the sense of conflict and struggle which permeates the life of a talented, tormented and frustrated young woman, who at once soars with the rich musical background of both her father and grandfather but simultaneously is denied participation and validation because of her gender. "A Joyful Noise" elicits both compassion and anger from the reader; one senses that had the author been born some twenty years later she would have had much more direct access to both her own talents and her clearly-articulated love for her heritage. The author does not disguise the central theme of her memoir. After a disappointing experience at a Passover seder, Deborah expresses her yearning to join her father and grandfather as full participants in both music and heritage. "I hummed the songs as quietly as I could, aching to get them right, afraid that my father would hear my wrong notes and correct me. They ran perfectly through my head but not from my mouth. I loved them. I wanted them." Yet, she understands that her ambition does not correspond with the very heritage she so deeply desires. Segregated, minimized and isolated due to sexist traditions and practices, Jewish women have had to sublimate their otherwise honorable ambitions into other avenues of expression. Sensing that possibility, even as a child, Deborah laments: "My desire was as strong as theirs; my voice was not. My breath stalled against my vocal cords, and the back of my throat throbbed from stopped-up songs and angry tears. I wanted to sing. I wanted to be heard." Weisgall's quest for authenticity, for voice, occurs during a period of national affluence and cultural indifference in the 1950s and on the cusp of our nation's profound social revolution of the 1960s. Deborah comes of age in a tension-riddled family; her non-religious mother, Nathalie, is indifferent to housework, and her beloved father, Hugo, consistently produces operas which are artistically gifted but critical failures. The Weisgalls constantly move from their Baltimore roots, whether it be to Maine for summers, or from college town to another, where Hugo can sustain his family's material needs while he tries to fulfill his own battered expectations as an artist. Deborah realizes the discored in her family is real; her mother's physical beauty cannot hide her bitterness just as her father's rapture with musci cannot hide his own frustration with failure and betrayal. Looming like a dense cloud over the family is the Holocaust, whose disruptive horror has created a permanent sense of dread and loss. In a desultory search through her parents' closet, Deborah discovers a shoe-box stuffed with raw and brutal photographs of cocentration camp victims. She understands in a visceral sense the impact of genocide on her father, who directly witnessed the horrific scenes while he served as a translator for the liberating United States Army during World War II. The Weisgalls are derivative survivors, having lost their past, their roots, their culture through the Holocaust. The author is able to trace the genesis of family friction to this loss of place. Nathalie, a lover of beauty, flounders in America; Hugo, linked in memory to his childhood in Czechoslovakia, wrestles with his own struggle to match his father (Abba) without the support of cultural stability and identity. The memoir is not without its faults. Unless one has a solid grasp of opera and classical music, Weisgall's detailed descriptions of her artistic passion tend to overwhelm the reader. Deborah's ultimately successful climb to identity occurs too abruptly, as well. Her ultimate chapters, which recount her experiences as Radcliffe and her emergence as an independent, secure woman, appear rushed and lack the elegant detail so prevalent throughout descriptions of her childhood. Nevertheless, this serious and introspective work deserves the critical praise it has garnered. "A Joyful Noise" deftly interweaves music, religious heritage and family into a tapestry both instructive and inspiring.



4. The author gave a birth of her daughter in ' 89, so did I deliver my third kids . This may be only one common thing to share between her , except both are Shubertian.
   Jewish and Japanese are often compared, and they are conspicuously differnt in the spiritual distance of each individual from the history of their own people. We , Japanese ,are genious of forgetting and we could change the attitude toward US so dramatically that Ruth Benedict couldn't help studying Japanese war captives. Whereas Jewish people,language wise, music wise , are trying to carry on the tradition, even though great constraint between the host country culture and also between generations of their own people.
   And 'an die Music'. Tan Dun, a Chinese composer living in NY,once said,' Western music develops horizontally'. I also admit, music are differnt in East and West, maybe because of Eastern ear VS Western ear. But when lyrics intermediate sounds and internal reality that words evoke , what type of ears you may have, you can enjoy music of differnt culture. So many operas, lied, Italian songs and hymns apperared in this books have told me so.



5. The author gave a birth of her daughter in ' 89, so did I deliver my third kids . This may be only one common thing to share between her , except both are Shubertian.
   Jewish and Japanese are often compared, and they are conspicuously differnt in the spiritual distance of each individual from the history of their own people. We , Japanese ,are genious of forgetting and we could change the attitude toward US so dramatically that Ruth Benedict couldn't help studying Japanese war captives. Whereas Jewish people,language wise, music wise , are trying to carry on the tradition, even though great constraint between the host country culture and also between generations of their own people.
   And 'an die Music'. Tan Dun, a Chinese composer living in NY,once said,' Western music develops horizontally'. I also admit, music are differnt in East and West, maybe because of Eastern ear VS Western ear. But when lyrics intermediate sounds and internal reality that words evoke , what type of ears you may have, you can enjoy music of differnt culture. So many operas, lied, Italian songs and hymns apperared in this books have told me so.

1 comments about A Place at the Table: The True Story of Two Men -- Best Friends in Their Youth, Reunited in Adversity.

1. This is a tale of two young boys, one caucasion and one African-American, who were unlikely friends in North Carolina farmland in the late 40's and early 50's. The bond created between these two boys was strong enough to carry on to their high school years when they encountered the trials and tribulations of a newly integrated school. Together they were able to overcome these hardships and continue a relationship through adulthood, keeping in contact and sharing experiences as each man fought his own life threatening disease. This story is an inspiration and an education for all.

5 comments about Falling Leaves.

1. ...with that whine? Self serving, whiney, horrible. I just don't get it. No comparison to anything by Frank McCort, Amy Tan or anyone like them.



2. The heartbreaking story of an unwanted, abused, neglected child who never ceases to try and earn her family's affections. If you have ever experienced these feelings,no matter what your race, you will LOVE this book. It moved me to tears and I could not put it down once I started reading it.



3. This book was beautifully written and gripping from the start. The reviewer who complained of Adeline's "whining" tone, is being unfair. I don't see her as whiny, but rather somewhat detached as she recounts the emptiness of her childhood. In fact, I want her to scream and kick and rebell, maybe even whine, yet she does none of that. Whining is even more emotion than I think she allows herself to feel. She endured a childhood with certain material wealth but vastly lacking in emotional wealth.
   Adeline takes the emotional abuse because she knows nothing else. Her father is the true villain for caring more about his trophy wife than his own family's happiness. He is oblivious to his children's emotional needs. He disappoints more than the stepmom for choosing to abandon children that he chose to bring into the world. He manipulates and plays them one against the other for his own selfish desires.
   After long periods of thinking about this book, I've come to my own understanding of why she managed to salvage a happy life out of such a miserable upbringing. It is the very belief, albeit blatently false, that her family would one day accept her, that makes her continue to push for their love and not give up. Children are frequently unable to find fault with their loved ones. It is that very "innocence" that protected her from worse harm, the knowledge that acceptance would never, ever, be forthcoming.



4. Although there are hundreds of reviews, I had to review this book because it had such an impact on me. I think this book is wonderful. It is a captivating story. I read it complete in one night, I just could not put it down!
   
   Adeline is a beautiful story teller, with an exceptional eye for detail. Although I loved the book, there was a strange voice that would creep into the story. Almost as if there was a repressed part of herself that could not hide from this book: it is a young Adeline still hoping to be the apple of her father's eye; and for her family to appreciate, love and respect her.
   
   It is a sad story that shocks readers with the inhumanity that families can inflict on one of their own. It is still beautiful and hopeful, even in its most miserable moments.
   
   Highly recommend



5. This book was amazing! It was so heartbreaking, but it is a great read. I had to read this book for my Sociology class and it definitely gives me a new perspective on family life.
   
   Thanks Adeline Yen Mah!!!!

2 comments about Not the Germans Alone: A Son's Search for the Truth of Vichy (Memoir Holocaust Studies).

1. This is a very beautiful and honest book about what happened to the Jews in France during WWII. It gives rare details about the French quiet acceptance of the deportation of Jews. It also reveals how difficult it is to get basic information from the French archives 50 years after the facts.

   A must read for everybody who desires to know.




2. How does it feel to be left alone as a seven year old. Your mother is taken by the authorities and your father is away in an interment camp and you are left in a cherry orchard in southern France. Isaac Levendel captures his feelings and shares them with us in his spell binding book, "Not The Germans Alone" published by Northwestern University Press (ISBN 0-8101-1663-4).. The amazing reality of the roundups after the invasion of Normandy rings with the madness of the Germans and the French establishment. Levendel gives us insights into the workings of Vichy France and the large amount of collaboration. While we were led to believe that most French were in the resistance, Levendel's book makes it clear that very few Frenchmen were in the underground and very few Frenchmen helped Jews escape the Nazis. Those few that risked their lives were simple people acting honorably. What I found most interesting is the description of his emotions about his mother and the description of her actions are sometimes inconsistent. He shows her virtues and her flaws. He writes about her love, her intelligence, her caring, her stubbornness, her bad judgement in not fleeing sooner, her mistake not taking all her money with her, and then going back to get it. I got the whole picture of her and that makes the book rich and touching. Levendel describes the peasant family that adopted him. They were heroes who risked their lives to help. Some scatological material gives us an earthy feeling of these people struggling to feed themselves as they helped others and thought nothing of it. They were truly pious. l loved how Levendel writes about his experience during allied bombings, "The bombardment did not feel or sound like it does in the movies. The heavy smoke smelled like dust and fire. The explosions were much more violent that I expected. The earth trembled under my body, and I could feel the shock wave of the explosions on my neck and chest, as if the bombing were happening inside my shirt. There was nowhere to hide. My mother had reached the limits of her power and could do nothing more to help me." The tracing of the official Vichy documents to verify what really happened is itself a real mystery story.

4 comments about ThingsThat Must Not Be Forgotten: A Childhood in Wartime China.

1. I bought Michael David Kwan's "Things That Must Not Be Forgotten" after reading a glowing review in the Washington Post. I was not disappointed. It is a moving, understated memoir about Mr. Kwan's childhood years starting shortly before the outbreak of World War II and ending as the Kuomintang was breathing its last in mainland China. Although young David was fortunate enough to be born into a wealthy family as a "half-caste" child of a Chinese father and a Swiss mother (who abandoned the family very early in David's life), he was never considered to be a true part of either the white and Chinese communities. The editorial reviews give a good overview of the content of the book and the increasing difficulties that David and his family endured under the Japanese and even more so under the corrupt Nationalist Chinese government. The narrative is brisk and engaging; it is probably the best work of non-fiction that I have read in quite some time.

   Sadly, on May 20th of this year Mr. Kwan suffered a fatal heart attack just two weeks before the official U.S.-publication of this book. We are all very fortunate that he was able to give us such a memorable farewell gift.

   "Things That Must Not Be Forgotten" won the 2000 Kirayama Prize for non-fiction, beating out such well-received books as Herbert Bix's "Hirohito and the Making of Modern Japan," Helen Zia's "Asian American Dreams" and Chanrithy Him's "When Broken Glass Floats."




2. An extraordinary story told with well controlled language and subtle understatements. The book chronicles the lives in a previledged, but also marginalized, world where everyone is deeply enshrouded in his or her own loneliness : the western expatriates in China, the mixed-blood children like the author himself, the western women married to Chinese men but unable to summon any love for the country or its people, the well-cultured mem ostracized by the society for their marriages to western women. Each of them, making good-intentioned efforts to connect, failed miserably because of their own deep-rooted prejudice, social barriars imposed by other people, or simply the uncontrollable historical whirlwinds. Outside this walled-in existence, a war is raging on with unimaginable callousness. The wall would eventually crumble down and the fineness of the Legation Quarter be swallowed by the brutal and rancid humanities of that era. Reminding us at times of Proust and Graham Greene, this remembrance of things past documents, in a hushed voice, an extraordinary age and all the human efforts to stay emerged in the midst of sweeping torrents. Warmth and friendship flicker from time to time in this vast emotional void : the author's attachment to his down-to-earth and understanding nanny Shu Ma, his natural bonding with the reticent peasant Xiao Hu, and the unusual and quiet friendship between the boy and the Japanese Admiral. Language in the last couple chapters slips a little bit and becomes less disciplined. But overall this is a wonderfully written memoir. Saddened by the news of the author's death couple weeks ago, I was especially grateful for the gift he left with us in the form of this book.



3. I read a review and an excerpt of this book in Toronto last summer, and waited anxiously for it to be published here in the States. I read it in two days, gulping it down excitedly; then I re-read it slowly, informed of the story but savoring the beautiful prose. I wrote Mr. Kwan a "fan letter," only to learn today in this forum that he passed away. I was hoping for a sequel.



4. I was sent a copy of this book by my mum from Australia last year and only recently had the chance to finally read the book.
   
   It's no wonder that this book is an award winner (2000 Kiriyama Pacific Rim Book Prize). Kwan keeps you rivetted to his story, told through eyes of a young boy growing up in very turbulent times. In spite of coming from a wealthy family, it cannot save him from the terrors and turmoil brought to Northern China in the 1930s and 1940s, nor from the racial judgement passed on him for being half-Chinese and half-White.
   
   How Kwan manages to survive is quite amazing. He is abandoned by his own mother and faces major abuses at school. Then, war begins and he begins to witness the atrocities committed by the Japanese in China. Finally, after the Japanese are defeated, he nearly loses his father to the KMT government that his father has faithfuly served through the resistance movement. He is not even safe from his own family, who try to use him as a means to extort his father for money that no longer exists.
   
   An absolute must read for anyone interested in China, the Japanese invasion of China, and a boy's coming of age.