China Mountain Zhang

Slow, scattered, and compulsively readable.

In a near-future world, China is economically and culturally dominant and Mars is the new frontier. The United States is no longer an economic force and people there work and play and dream of living in China. But only genetically pure Chinese are allowed that privilege. Everyone else is denied the Middle Kingdom and must make do by emulating its culture, its fashions, and by riding its economic coat-tails.

The book is divided into chapters/sections that each follow different protagonists - three on Earth and two on Mars. The bulk of the narrative follows the titular character, Zhang but there is overlap between all of the storylines. None of these characters find much in the way of resolution show more and, in truth, not much happens with most of them. The conflicts are mostly (but not all) internal.

What elevates this book is McHugh's writing; it is evocative and her world-building is breathtaking. There is a melancholy and almost desperate feel to each character as they muddle along looking for improvement and envying others their status. With each step forward, they come to realize that, despite their advancement, there will be no escaping themselves. That seems to be the common thread here. It does not sound like very compelling stuff but, once I began this book, it was difficult to stop. China Mountain Zhang is not action-packed by any means but it is a very memorable and intriguing novel. show less

This book was on one of the featured theme endcaps at the library and caught my eye. I've been wanting to read more female authored scifi, and the list of awards on the back -- Tiptree, Lambda Literary, Hugo, & Nebula? Some awards, some only nominated, but seriously? The Chinese influence, which I've become more interested in as my kids learn the language, was just icing.

And then! The whole passage on Baffin Island! Totally polar fiction!

(mild spoilers ahead)
This book shifts narrative focus between loosely connected characters -- Zhang - a construction tech engineer who struggles with his in-between status as an American Born Chinese, Angel - a flyer in the kite races Zhang loves to watch, Martine - a military vet who has settled on show more Mars, raising goats and bees, Alexi - a single father at the bottom of Mars' hierarchy, San-xiang - an unattractive girl whose father tried to match her to Zhang (not knowing Zhang is "bent" or gay), whose life changes when her face is reconstructed. (Her story was physically painful for me to read. She has no idea how to handle the new ways people treat her, I wanted to scream at her through the pages.)

This is such an interesting world to live in through this book. I loved immersing myself in corner after corner of it, it was so well imagined. I kept expecting, though, for all the characters to come crashing together somehow in some crisis. In the final third of the book, I kept racing, faster and faster, turning pages expecting the crisis to come at any moment. It never did.

As I turned the final page, I exclaimed both, "What the holy crap was that?" and "Oh, dear Lord, I loved it!" Hugging the book to myself, even as it had defied so many of my expectations of what an sf novel should be, I was calculating and weighing whether I could bear to return this book to the library without buying a copy of my own.

The perfect mesh of literary fiction and speculative fiction. I adore. show less

China Mountain Zhang is an impressive work, well deserving of its Hugo and Nebula nominations and its Tiptree and Lambda awards. Thoughtful, precise writing and Zhang’s fully developed characterization make this a stand-out read, with only overall structure and the subject of one point of view preventing me from awarding a full five stars.

Setting is thoughtfully built; information about society is shared indirectly through character experience. China appears to be the dominant world power after the economic collapse of America and a subsequent socialist revolution. Naturally, a change in social order accompanies the shift, and China-born Chinese are at the top, followed by the ABCs (American-Born Chinese), and then the non-Chinese. In show more this distant future, bio-engineering has progressed enough that people can go in for genetic re-engineering. Everyone has an implanted machine interface/implant that not only provides personal information on demand but allows people to link their nervous system into computer systems. Mars has been colonized, overcrowding is a serious issue, and like many visions of future bureaucracies, getting a job or housing is almost impossible without connections or money.

One of the strengths of the book is fabulous characterization. Interestingly, in the beginning, I found the character China Mountain Zhang hard to like. A bit immature, he spends most of his time at work, with a friend, Peter, or at the flier races. Zhang is of mixed race, Hispanic and Chinese, but since his parents paid for genetic engineering when he was young, he appears to be full-blood Chinese. Born in Brooklyn, he has remained a New Yorker even after his father has left for California and his mother for Pennsylvania. His first challenge comes from his Chinese boss, who wants to introduce Zhang to his unmarriageable daughter. Issues of respect, his boss’ economic power over him and a Chinese emphasis on ethnic purity are a delicate dance to negotiate, particularly because Zhang is gay. Although New York gay culture is lively, being ‘bent’ is technically forbidden, and in China is likely to merit the firing squad. I found Zhang’s management of the his boss and the daughter somewhat immature, but appreciated it later as contrast for his personal development.

Zhang wrestles with emotional issues on a ‘date’ with malformed San-xiang:

This is a night she will remember all her life, the night when she went to the kite races. How many nights do I remember? How many special nights have I had in my life? Is it so much to give up a night?

‘Let’s get something to eat and then see how late it is, maybe stop in for a drink,’ I say. She smiles up at me. Oh, the dangers of pity.

The writing shines. McHugh negotiates the world through her characters, and the clean prose captures Zhang’s voice well, along with the voices of the colonists. Sophisticated philosophical and emotional truths are communicated in Zen-like essence. San-xiang, the boss’ daughter, shares a personal insight and the emotional core of the book:

“‘I used to think I was unhappy because my father was in trouble and we had to come here, but now I don’t think it makes any difference. If you’re a certain kind of person, you’ll be unhappy wherever you are.’

I have no doubt she considers herself that certain kind of person…

It doesn’t make any difference if you did or you didn’t,’ [go to China] she says, ‘because you would still be you. And if you were unhappy here, you’d be unhappy there.”

Zhang at dinner with his mother encapsulates years of history in one short meal:

“‘It’s a lie,’ I say, ‘and you always told me that a lie always creates complications.’ But my face is a lie as well, and she condoned that. I am sure she hears the accusation, but we never talk about my mother’s contradictions.
She does not touch me, although for a moment I think she is going to cover my hand with hers and I am afraid.”

My trouble with the structure of China Mountain Zhang is not the writing, nor the characters. In her post on Tor, writer Jo Walton calls the style of China Mountain Zhang a ‘mosaic novel,’ and goes on to call it one of the best mosaic novels ever written. After doing a little research on the term, I’d have to disagree with her; interestingly, my difficulties with the book are same reasons it doesn’t quite work as a mosaic. The term ‘mosaic novel’ refers to a collection of stories “with the aim of telling a linear story from beginning to end” despite each individual chapter reflecting multiple viewpoints or styles (sadly, at least according to academia, I’m quoting Wikipedia here). Much like it’s visual art equivalent, intention is to create an uniform whole out of individual pieces.

However, the undeniable focus of the book is Zhang, both in title and subject. In a linear timeline about a decade long, we follow Zhang through a significant emotional and professional development. Out of a multitude of chapters, there are only four where he is on the periphery, guest appearance only: a story about a cyber-kite flier, Angel; one centering on an ‘ugly’ Chinese woman, San-xiang, who seeks genetic modification; and two set on Mars, one focused on each member of a farming collective couple, Martine and Alexi. The flier’s story is interesting, but thematically peripheral. The Martian couple’s story collective story gives insight into the new society and is satisfactorily self-contained. San-xiang’s explores issues attractiveness post-genetic modification. Given that the title is the main character’s name, and the bulk of the collection is focused on Zhangs’s viewpoint, growth and experience, as a book it doesn’t quite achieve the goal of the mosaic, but also falls strangely short of linear narrative.

My one other concern is



San-Xiang’s point of view. After her genetic modification, she has to learn a new way to interact with the world in terms of her sexuality. To absolutely no female reader’s surprise, it results in rape. Given the prevalence of the female rape scene in literature, I found it disappointing that McHugh used one of the rare non-Zhang viewpoints in such a standard way. I’m not sure of her message, but I wonder if McHugh is actually trying to give voice to the Chinese women now who are assaulted as they negotiate their own independence from their families. My feeling was that given our intimacy with Zhang’s viewpoint, positioning the issue within the gay community (especially when assault could not have been reported without risk) would have been more powerful.



However, those are rather small issues given the excellent characterization and well-thought out vision of the future. Highly recommended for fans of dystopias as well as anyone who loves a good story.

http://clsiewert.wordpress.com/2013/11/24/china-mountain-zhang-by-maureen-mchugh... show less

Fifty or so pages into ‘China Mountain Zhang’ a nagging sense of deja vu resolved into the certainty that I’d definitely read it before. It must have been during my initial teenage discovery of science fiction. At that time I didn’t know anyone who was into sci-fi and couldn’t look it up online, so I simply read whatever the library had. Fortuitously, my local library had most of the SF Masterworks series. I have always been a quick and unsystematic reader, though, so cannot be sure whether I’ve read certain of them. In this case, it was the kite racing scene that felt definitively familiar. I decided to keep reading, though, as I couldn’t remember what happened in the rest of the book and anyway was really enjoying it. It show more seems pretty clear that I forgot reading this novel because as a fourteen year old I didn’t get much out of it. At the time, I was reading science fiction for dramatic and exciting escapism. I wanted to vicariously experience space exploration, world-shattering disasters, unknowable aliens, and dangerous AIs. ‘China Mountain Zhang’ isn’t that sort of book. It is a subtle account of everyday life in a China-ruled future and an absolutely brilliant read.

What distinguishes McHugh’s writing is her sympathy and insight into the characters, coupled with a fantastic observational eye. The world-building is done so naturally that you learn the shape of this future almost without noticing. In addition to the titular Zhang, the narrative gives snapshots into the lives of Martian settlers, a kite racer, and a woman bothered by the ugliness of her face. One quietly radical aspect of the novel is that their lives all unfold against the backdrop of a communist world. Another is that all of those given a voice are marginalised in some way or ways. Zhang is gay, which is tolerated in the US but not in China, in addition to hiding his mixed race heritage. The female characters all encounter different yet gender-related challenges and one of the Martian narrators has been a refugee for years. These are ordinary people dealing with daily problems, not heroes trying to save the world. As a consequence, ‘China Mountain Zhang’ has a freshness and distinctive appeal that isn’t often found in the sci-fi genre. I didn’t miss the high stakes of impending disaster, as the smaller scale of job hunting and socialising is depicted so beautifully. Surprisingly few sci-fi novels give you a genuine sense of how ordinary people live in the future, often being too caught up in plotting to do so. What people's work is like, what they do for fun, what they worry about, things like that give a future world depth and texture. When well done, I find these detailed narratives captivating, even more so when female and queer perspectives predominate.

‘China Mountain Zhang’ was first published in 1992 and has, to my mind, aged quite gracefully in the intervening quarter century. (25 years! God, that makes me feel old.) The idea of China dominating America politically, economically, and culturally doesn’t seem so far fetched now the US is imploding. Technology usually dates sci-fi; here it isn’t too bad as computers are ubiquitous and everyone communicates by versions of email and video call. There were several details that I loved: the modular bus system and the mind-linked computer that Zhang uses to design buildings. I wish both existed - the former must be technologically feasible these days and the latter appeals because it amounts to lucid dreaming, except you can save the structures your mind constructs.

The more I think about it, the more I’m inclined to consider ‘China Mountain Zhang’ a utopian novel. It clearly depicts the flaws of its world: intolerance of Zhang’s sexuality, inhumane treatment of refugees, discrimination against those who aren’t of Chinese ethnicity. Nonetheless, this is a stable world in which people can freely access education to progress their careers, involve themselves in local politics with positive effects, and generally improve their lives. Some injustices remain, while others have died out. Subcultures thrive, the economy is functioning well, and, outside China, there is no apparent fear of political persecution or purges. Climate change has had a devastating effect in the US, but the Chinese have it under control and are carefully reducing atmospheric CO2 levels. The colonisation of Mars seems to be progressing well. As a consequence, I found this a hopeful, even reassuring novel. There are occasional tragic and horrifying moments, because it is fundamentally about getting on with life. Interestingly, Jo Walton’s introduction specifically describes it as ‘not a hopeful vision’ - but that was written ten years ago. If it’s a truism that sci-fi novels reflect the time when they were written, they also reflect the time when they are read. show less

In the 22nd century, when China is the dominant superpower and the US has had a socialist revolution, Zhang is trying to figure out what to do with his life.

Whenever I read futuristic science fiction written during the Cold War that assumes the Soviet Union continued as a superpower, I find myself mentally substituting "China" for Soviet Union, just to keep the story believable for me. Now here's a book written in the '90s that actually does posit China as the dominant superpower, and of course, it's a lot different and more realistic than those Soviet-era books. For one thing, the United States has declined quite a lot, as well as having undergone its own socialist revolution. This version of the near future also brings in questions of show more race -- people of Chinese ethnicity have privilege here -- sexuality, and gender as well as politics.

This future is not dystopian, not really (although I'm sure many Americans would consider a socialist USA the worst thing that could ever happen). It's far too realistic for that. The characters are all ordinary people with ordinary concerns about work, success, love, and community. I think that's why I enjoyed this book so much--the story is told by real people with the minor concerns of real life, but it maintains a broad scope. The story begins and ends in New York City, but it travels to an Arctic research station, a rich and glittering Shanghai, even Mars.

The characters, however, are all people who don't quite fit into this new normal. The protagonist, Zhang, is gay and half Latino (which has been obscured by genetic manipulation) who must keep both these aspects of himself secret in order to get ahead. He chafes against these restrictions and longs for community, finally choosing to do something very American: he starts his own business. Other sections of the book are told from the points of view of characters that Zhang meets peripherally. One is a Chinese woman with a medical condition that has rendered her "ugly"; once she has that corrected, she unexpectedly faces the possibly worse problems of pretty girls. Another is a loner who has finally moved to a commune on Mars in order to be left alone, but yet finds herself reluctantly helping to build her new community.

These are quiet stories, and the events that take place are not big ones. Without the technological enhancements, all of these stories could take place today. Through her speculative premise, McHugh shines a light on the persistent tensions that characterize the human species: the tension between conformity and individuality, and the desire we all have to make our own lives and to truly be ourselves. show less

This book is one that's brilliant on multiple levels, but first, you have to manage your expectations. What do I mean?

This came out in 1990 but it resembles the more modern trend of literary SF in that most of the focus is on characterization and social interactions but in my opinion, it is superior to those because McHugh's wild worldbuilding is detailed, pervasive, and devoted to a fundamental conclusion. Or several conclusions. Interesting ones. In this respect, it's more like Samuel Delany's work.

Stand out features: Post-American revolution where China takes it over. The MC and the focus are on the LGBT community, including a very dystopian view of living conditions, especially in China. Revisionist history, it also has complicated show more things to say about how history is made that breaks away from most older SF in that it relies on Systems Theory, and best of all, the whole book IS a Study In Systems Theory.

I loved the world-building, and I really got into the main character, himself named China Mountain Zhang, but it's the interwoven nature of the tightly focused life he lives, the one day at a time style of writing that gradually catches hold of you and won't let go.

Like I said, it's more literary SF than anything, but it has a really awesome hard-SF core that satisfies on several additional levels. I definitely recommend this for any classic SF afficiandos who like their stories full of character. show less

This was the 2nd book I've read by Maureen McHugh, although it is her first.
I have to admit, I preferred "Mission Child" - but this was pretty good as well. McHugh is an excellent writer, with a real gift for creating vivid, complex and believable characters.

However, I felt the structure of this book was slightly awkward - the main plot follows Zhang, an American of half-Chinese heritage, in a near-future where China has become the dominant world power.
Every so often, the story goes on a tangent, exploring the lives of people that come into contact with Zhang - a settler on Mars that he tutors, athletes involved in a dangerous sport (cybernetic hang-gliding, basically), and a girl that he reluctantly takes out on a few dates.

Each of show more these scenarios remarkably quickly comes to life - but remains tangential to the plot. Each dilemma faced by these sub-plot characters is only partially resolved. Much like real life - and I believe it was intentional on the writer's part - but it's still somewhat frustrating.

The book also has a tendency to, every so often, "jump ahead" a few years - so, although we see Zhang's growth from irresponsible young man to well-respected engineer, it seem to occur in a jerky, slightly disorienting rhythm rather than a flow...

Regardless of these small things, I'd highly recommend the book - it's a pleasure to read, and deeply insightful of human nature, with a thought-provoking look at a possible near-future... show less