Of Swords and Parasols

Women of the Silk tells the story of Pei, a young Chinese woman who is sent to a silk factory as a child. The story begins shortly before she enters the factory in 1919, and ends when she is forced to leave due to the Japanese occupation in 1938. The Language of Threads picks up where Women of the Silk left off, and covers Pei’s life in Hong Kong through 1952. These are the first books of Tsukiyama’s that I’ve really loved since encountering In the Samurai’s Garden early last year.

Like most of Tsukiyama’s works, the focus is on young Chinese people in the first half of the 20th century, the world they live in, and their encountering life and cultures outside of their previous experiences. Here, Tsukiyama also focuses on the concept of family, both in the concept of the family you’re born into, and the family you make, particularly the latter. Almost every important relationship (and there are many) is between women (one of which is established as being romantic in nature, and one other-possibly two-carries that implication) both in terms of family and friendship, and Tsukiyama’s depictions of both rural China and the silk factory and occupied Hong Kong are fascinating.

Covering the years between 1940 and 1965, Night of Many Dreams is the story of Hong Kong born and raised Joan and Emma Lew (15 and 9 at the start of the story) both during World War II, which they spend in Macao, and after. I was initially put off by how easily the sisters fit into stereotypes-pretty Joan is flighty and dreamy, obsessed with Hollywood, and wants to be an actress, while plain Emma is smart, practical, bookish (and only Important Authors are namedropped), and wants to go to school in the United States.

Thankfully, they rise above the stereotypes and they, along with their mother and aunt, paint an interesting portrait of Chinese women and family throughout their decades. I particularly like that their mother, despite clinging to tradition, is largely accepting of her daughters’ choices.

Unfortunately, it never quite managed to charm and engross me the way The Samurai’s Garden did, even though the subject matter seems more geared to me, though I did like it. I think part of it is the The Samurai’s Garden was bittersweet because it was about a time and a place, but the bittersweetness of Night of Many Dreams feels more like “real books are bittersweet at best, but more likely sad and/or tragic.”