Book No. 7 of 2020
A slowly unfurling, meditative read, and one I picked up because I will always, always read anything about Taiwan. Lee tells her grandparents’ stories as she discovers more about them after their deaths, in parallel with her own journey exploring the island. This book is vastly different from all the other books-about-or-in-Taiwan I’ve read as it focuses on the literal nature of Taiwan: its mountains, faults, forests, lakes, and coasts. There are also segues into Taiwanese history—some aspects of which were new to me.
I definitely found myself feeling proud and deeply appreciative of Taiwan’s singularly unique biome and geographical elements, even though they comprise the aspects I find the least compelling about a place. (What can I say, I am not a camping/hiking/outdoorsy person.) Lee’s writing is also very poetic and she succeeded in making me (reluctantly) see the inherent beauty in rocks. I also have so much appreciation for the sheer complexity of Taiwanese history, with so many layers of colonialism from all fronts, indigenous culture, and the myriad political tensions that still shape modern life.
Similar Reads
Big, big reminders of other meditative, connection-drawing reads that commune with nature: How to Do Nothing by Jenny Odell, The Faraway Nearby by Rebecca Solnit, and Epitaph for a Peach by David Masumoto.
The parts on modern Taiwanese history, and the long stretch of martial law, reminded me of Green Island by Shawna Yang Ryan.
The combination of memoir-with-cultural-observations and history reminded me of Lauren Collins’ When in French.