A Many-Splendoured Thing, the splendid writing of Han Suyin
Don't let Han Suyin's Chinese origin intimidate you. Her novel touches us just as much as if she were from here: simply, there is something in her writing that is original, astonishing, and remarkably moving, that we would never find here.
The back cover is sobering. "An exceptional romance novel." It could feature a Harlequin as much as a Shakespeare. One small clue that it leans toward Shakespeare: the volume of the book. A good, compact 500 pages. I didn't know what to expect.
And the book begins with the end. The end of the love story between Suyin and Marc, an English journalist. The two lovers know that they are about to part forever. Han Suyin tells the love story she will write about their history.
I will tell how we have loved, like all lovers, and struggled not to be destroyed by the little things of life. How they destroyed us and how we forgot. Exactly like everyone else. For we are, no more and no less than anyone else, ephemeral, imperfect lovers in a world of endless inconstancy.
I will tell how we have loved, like all lovers, and struggled not to be destroyed by the little things of life. How they destroyed us and how we forgot. Exactly like everyone else. For we are, no more and no less than anyone else, ephemeral, imperfect lovers in a world of endless inconstancy.
But this novel is also a tragedy (because I have never seen such a splendid love story that ends well, except in fairy tales. If I'm wrong, please let me know). It's the end of the 40's, the Chinese are fleeing the arrival of the communists, and the Korean war is starting. Thanks to Han Suyin's eye, we are in the backstage of these confrontations. (Unfortunately, I confess (I'm ashamed) that it is in this part that I lost interest. The story has never fascinated me as much as the stories of the individuals).
And I won't tell the ending. But you can guess.
The story may sound trite, but the writing changes everything. None of the metaphors I read were familiar to me. The author is poetic without being cheesy. Her tone makes me respect her instantly and want to lie down in a recliner and let myself travel. Which I did. And the journey was worth it.
