The Dissident

The first time I visited Beijing's Dashanzi art district several years ago, I wandered into a crowded gallery only to find a guy lying in the middle of the floor, wrapped in a flag, while some people were dripping candle wax onto him and others were shooting video. A few steps outside and I was introduced to another artist whose specialty was painting himself to blend into various walls. Nell Freudenberger's first novel evokes well the performance art milieu of Beijing, at least from the perspective of an outsider looking in. From having lived ten years or so in West Los Angeles, I'd also say she manages a good satire of life there (though that's a much easier target). While some reviewers prefer either the Chinese narrative or the L.A. one, I thought they complemented each other well. Even if the American characters aren't always as engaging as the title character, the author has a great ear and warm imagination for their dialogue. E.g., a spoiled private high school student who's spent time in France, impressed that her classmate's brother went to a party at his Latina girlfriend's home in the Echo Park neighborhood: "'Wow,' said Emily, 'ça c'est vraiment le barrio.'" And the characters who need to be likable, are. The story sometimes has a typical first-novelish, self-reflective preoccupation with the theme of 'what is art?,' but it manages to be interesting on that topic. NF's treatments of identity and "dissidence" are also nicely structured, with many interesting parallels and contrasts among the characters; better yet, she doesn't hit you over the head with these by having her characters call attention to them. This is a very satisfying novel -- I'm definitely looking forward to reading the next one from this author.

This novel is a first person account by a Chinese artist of his year spent in LA on a culteral grant. There is also his retelling of his rise in the Chinese underground art scene. I found this depiction fascinating, with several good characters. In LA, there is the main character's interaction with the American family he is living with. There is some of the expected culture clash here. There is also the interactions within this slighlty dysfunctional family. Finally, there is even a bit of a plot twist at the end. If you are intereseted in a good story about the Chinese avant garde art scene and about a family dissolving, then check out The Dissident.

I found The Dissident to be a great read. It has a lively pace, interesting characters, and a satisfying arc.

"The Dissident" is a very well written account of the time a Chinese artist spends in the US on a cultural grant, the back story, and an epilog. The back story focuses on a period in his college life when he and his girlfriend were involved with a small community of avant garde artists in a run down section of Beijing. I infer from the author's acknowledgments that this artistic community is based on fact. What I am calling the epilog is intended to make the reader feel good about how things end up, and it does succeed in this. The story is interesting, benefiting from the historical dimension and the discussions about art. Unfortunately, there is a parallel story in the novel, of the family with which the artist stays. While written well enough, dialogue, pacing and so forth, the story is not very compelling. The mother is a well drawn character, but she is the exception in this parallel story. Much time is spent on her brother-in-law, a self absorbed, dull character who is of little interest, and the lesser characters are even less developed. Had more time been spent on her husband, and why he had become so cold, "The Dissident" might have been a better novel.

There are writers who claim to be more comfortable (and readable) when working in a specific format. Raymond Carver was championed for his quick and dirty yet immensely powerful short stories, while a writer like Orhan Pamuk is known for his captivating and expansive full-length fiction. Then there are those who try their hand at both and find that they are just as adept at creating one as they are at creating the other. With a highly acclaimed collection of short stories (LUCKY GIRLS) under her belt, and this slightly longer than average novel recently published to mostly rave reviews, Nell Freudenberger seems to be one of those versatile authors who can shine in either realm. THE DISSIDENT is both a multilayered story meant to entertain its audience and a meandering exposé on the very nature of art, truth and perception. As expertly noted by one of its central narrators, Yuan Zhao, while it "might seem to be a story about politics and art and even death, it will touch on those topics in only the most superficial ways." Instead, it is "a story about counterfeiting, and also about the one thing you cannot counterfeit." Right from the beginning, Freudenberger establishes (through Zhao's words) that not everything is what it seems to be and that readers should be aware of this before embarking on their journey. The novel opens as the man who refers to himself as Yuan Zhao (the "dissident" of the book's title) has just moved to Los Angeles from China to perfect his craft and integrate himself into American culture. He has accepted a teaching position at the exclusive St. Anselm School for Girls in Beverly Hills, where he hopes to instruct fledgling artists on the intricacies of traditionalist Chinese painting. According to a Taipei Times article (and much to the excitement of the school and his host family), Yuan had been a member of an ultra-radical group of artists in the East Village of Beijing, and was twice imprisoned for his avant-garde approach to digesting and reinterpreting both Western and Eastern artistic practices and for advocating a revolutionary style of artistic expression. In America, he hoped to distance himself from his volatile reputation and Chinese censorship in order to create a new and impressive body of work. Or so it might seem... Yuan's upper-middle-class host family is a collection of ruddy characters who, like the dissident, each hold secrets of their own. Cece is perhaps the book's most developed character, with a depth and deep sincerity that is both generous and heartbreaking to behold. She is a doting mother to her two teenage children --- the girlishly popular Olivia who attends St. Anselm and the typically sullen Max --- and a good wife to her stiff and sexless psychiatrist husband, Gordon. Good, aside from the clandestine affair she's been having on-again, off-again with Gordon's feeble-minded brother, Phil, who can't seem to make heads or tails of his own life, despite a deceptively healthy relationship with A