February Flowers

This feels like an honest, non-commercial, thoughtful, even poetic narrative about growing up in a specific time, place, and social class. It's set in a major university in southern China in 1990 -- but it reminded me so much of my university life, spent 20 years earlier, at a Midwest American state university -- on the other side of the planet.

I enjoyed February Flowers tremendously and recommended it to many friends. The novel traces the experiences of Chen Ming, a lonely scholarship student in Guangzhou, China, during her first year at university. Ming, whose parents were exiled to farm labor during the Cultural Revolution, discovers the vibrant, exhilarating city around her with Miao Yan, a worldly senior who gives Ming her first alluring dress and teaches her how to pose in heels. The novel let me experience the dynamism and social mores of China from an insider's perspective. It brought me alongside a dedicated, proud uncle at a crowded train station, where he pleads with passengers to spare a seat for his niece. It drew me intimately close to an unsure, intelligent young woman as she forms those friendships that sometimes last a lifetime. I began reading the novel because I was interested in seeing what life in China was like, but the book has stayed with me because of its protagonist, Chen Ming, and because of the relationships she forms. February Flowers is a rewarding combination of both fascinating reading and serious art.

"February Flowers" tells a remarkably insightful and honest story of two young Chinese "girls" - known as young women in western cultures - trying to find themselves in the ever-changing world of today's China. Even though 17-year-old Ming and 24-year-old Yan share the same country, their families and upbringings differ greatly, which is paradoxically so true and common in a country that stresses uniformity and adherence to "tradition". It is the context of Ming's and Yan's different personal histories - which shape their current viewpoints, attitudes, interactions, and growth during the 11-month period of their friendship at university - that forms many of the tensions in the story. What China's current parental and grandparental generations experienced growing up before and during the Cultural Revolution is completely different from what the youth of today's China are experiencing; what those parents (dear Mama and Baba) and grandparents tell their children to do or not to do with their lives is completely different from what many of these children, as soon-to-be adults and parents themselves, will tell their own children to do. Fan Wu brings Ming and Yan through this transitional time with expert story-telling and sensitive writing. Young people in China, during their time at university, often describe themselves as "the flowers of China" - blooming, growing, becoming the new China. They are filled with hope (and also a bit of fear) for their future, while being shaped by the traditions they've been taught. Some of them view these traditions as a burden, which they try their best to reconcile and escape. Fan Wu characterizes this so achingly in her portrayal of Yan. Some of them view these traditions not as a burden but as a natural truth, and yet as they grow, they begin to see their own possibilities and try to form their own way. This is sweetly characterized in the portrayal of Ming. These two "flowers of China" come together in their unlikely friendship to form a poignant story of love, learning, betrayal, and eventually hope. That sounds like many stories, told over generations all over the world. Yet Fan Wu tells this story in a way that isn't clichéd or overly dramatic. The emotions expressed in all of the characters - not just Ming and Yan, but also their dorm-mates, fellow students, and the various boys and men that enter their lives - ring true. Fan Wu clearly knows of which she speaks. To fully understand these emotions and attitudes, it helps if one has been to China or personally knows any young Chinese, but any reader, even without having experienced today's China and young Chinese, will recognize and appreciate the characters' dilemmas, thoughts, and emotions. What also helps Fan Wu's story-telling is a keen eye for the little details and often humorous nuances of what constitute a young person's thinking in today's China. One particularly hilarious conversation between Ming's dorm-mates, while innocently looking at a

February Flowers is a subtle and delicate book. It is the tension under the surface, kept in check and only hinted at, that drives the narrative forward. To a certain extent, it is a coming of age story that highlights a point in time when innocent seventeen year old student Ming meets the worldly and flashy Miao Yan. Ming is captivated by Miao Yan's other-ness; her vibrancy, and the bond between the girls grows until it becomes a quiet obsession for Ming. Miao on the other hand, makes her affection clear, but in the end seems unaffected by their relationship and is able to easily walk away. As the novel is written in memoir format, narrated twelve years after the fact by an older, post-marriage Ming. The melancholy and sad resignation permeate its pages and give the reader a strong sense of Ming's longing, and her repression right from the start. Ming's characterisation is representative of the post cultural revolution China of the 90s. Fan Wu does a beautiful job of creating a realistic setting where almost unlimited, but relatively new, freedom contrasts with the tight regime it grew out of. Ming is conscious of this freedom which Miao Yan comes to represent, while she simultaneously holds on to the notion of `good girl' that her parents expect. The tension between the two characters, and the concurrent tension within the university itself propels the story. An undercurrent of fear puts Miao Yan's relaxed cynicism in perspective as uniformed workers from the Security Department patrol the campus looking for overly made-up women or smokers. Governmental control forms a backdrop to the story as Miao Yan struggles with her desire to work in Shenzhen, border controls and dossiers. But everything, including the hint of feminism, which underpins Ming's awakening is handled subtly. The writing gathers momentum from its detailed perspective, allowing the reader to uncover the emotions of its protagonist through her perception of sensual world around here - the texture of a fabric, the notes of a song played on Ming's violin, or the progression of rain. Fan Wu's prose takes the tiny observed details of day to day life and builds these scenes into something much larger - a reflection on the meaning of life. The book ends with an energised and positive Ming, suddenly aware that she is no longer a subservient child, but a woman in charge of her own destiny. It's an upbeat ending, but also characterised by the absence of its antagonist. This isn't a story about Miao Yan though, and her gap is one which Ming's growth ends up filling. The moment of transformation comes late in the novel, and is handled so subtly that it is easy to miss. Nevertheless the reader is left with a satisfying conclusion that resists the urge to spell out too much or limit the story with overt sensationalism. February Flowers is a beautifully written, promising debut, full of light detail and intense reflection. Reviewed by Magdalena Ball, author of Sleep B

February Flowers is about innocence, the mystery and the allure of intimacy and knowledge; and the pain and bliss of friendship. Though set in present-day China, and informed by that country's ferocious rush toward modernization , this story transcends the "coming of age in China" genre. Two women meet at a university, one a seventeen-year old first year student, just beginning her life away from home, and the other a young woman of twenty-four, who is in her final year. Miao Yan, the older one, seems to be addicted to living in the moment. She has a succession of boy friends, dresses provocatively, and dreams of getting a job in the city of Guangzhou, where life is exciting, money flows like water, and life is good. Chen Ming, on the other hand, is a lonely and serious student, who doesn't have a boy friend, and who for pleasure, or to deal with emotions she barely understands, plays the violin, alone on the dormitory rooftop. These two women's lives become entwined. Author Fan Wu gives us a delicate, nuanced view of the relationship between Miao and Chen as it blossoms into something beautiful, yet fragile. Just as China cannot stand still, neither can either of these young women. Miao believes she sees life as it really is, and believes she can deal with it on her own terms. Chen attempts to play life by the moral certitudes she has brought with her from her village, and yet is inexorably challenged by pervasive clashes of values at the university, in the city, and in particular in her budding feelings for Miao Yan. Chen Ming tells this story in a voice that is simply wonderful. She hides nothing from us, and her honesty and sense of wonder come through beautifully. Her tone is down-to-earth but without any hint of sarcasm, cynicism or irony. And so the reader can relax and be completely absorbed by the book. Fan Wu has produced a fine first novel. May the next come quickly.