The Immortal Woman, by Su Chang

Reviewed by Ann Cavlovic

The Immortal Woman is an ambitious and richly rendered debut novel, in which a visceral depiction of intergenerational trauma is connected to the fascinating, complex, and at times brutal history of China and the Chinese diaspora experience.

The story follows four generations of women, but the alternating narratives of the middle mother-daughter pair is the focus. The mother, Lemei, feisty and clear-eyed, is forced into being a student Red Guard Leader under Chairman Mao’s Cultural Revolution, although she artfully manages to minimize the brutality expected of her. Later, after being forced into motherhood, she tries to prepare her daughter Lin to leave behind all things Chinese and seek a better life in North America: “Too late for me but not for Lin save her save the children”. And it seems at first to work. But when Lin seeks out a white lover and has a child quickly, all the buried pain and internalized racism wreaks havoc.

For both women, politics interferes with love and truth. The mother, Lemei, had a gift for writing, but could barely write a true word while working for a heavily censored Chinese state newspaper. Later, in Toronto, Lin tries to write a true word and attend a protest, only to feel surveillance and other threads to China still limiting her. The author Su Chang herself risks reprisal for putting political truths into words – you won’t find her image online, for a reason. But she has nonetheless succeeded in using the written word to respond to the call: “Don’t let the madness go on in vain.”

Although it can be a hard read at times, it is ultimately redemptive and worthwhile. At points, I struggled to empathize with Lin, particularly when she was so salty with her lover, but then paused to remember this is realistic. It is a delicate balance to tell a tale that needs to be told without sugar-coating nor depleting the reader. Chang’s vivid prose, especially when at its most observant and spare, helps carry us along.

Amid the vivid depictions of state-sanctioned violence, one of the most heartbreaking moments for me was more internal: Lin is in therapy, and we-the-reader hope this will finally help her, only for the white therapist to prescribe much needed “connection, connection, connection” without the cultural sensitivity to actually help Lin achieve that. This, of course, backfires dramatically.

Another fascinating thread delves into the trend of cosmetic and surgical practices to make Asian faces appear more “Caucasian-style”. The novel begins with a vignette about a room like a bizarre chemistry lab being set ablaze, and we don’t immediately know whether it’s a dream or premonition. In intelligent ways, Chang exposes the self-hatred and internalized racism that comes from navigating delusions of white supremacy.

One of the most fascinating aspects of the novel are the dialogues near the end that objectively lay out the pros and cons of both Chinese and North American culture – their ideals, strengths, brutalities, and hype laid out with fairness and nuance. For example, whatever you may think of communism, the Chinese system of state exams largely controlling political careers is arguably closer to a true meritocracy than US politics.

I first picked up The Immortal Woman the same day Renee Good – a poet – was killed, like too many others, by American ICE officers. At another time, I might have struggled more to imagine how students in the Red Guard could haul away their own former teacher for merely presenting a poem (Li Bai), verboten only for having been written before Mao’s Cultural Revolution. I might have struggled more to understand the mindset of angry mobs swarming, demeaning, and murdering innocent people, while observers played dumb or parroted propaganda (whether extreme left or extreme right). And what was in that poem that got Lemei’s teacher exiled? It evoked “how readily we could all abandon our humanity.”

I learned so much reading this novel, indeed about some grittier historical aspects of the Red Guard and the Tiananmen Square massacre, but also about phenomenon like the “sent down youth,” challenge sessions, self-criticism assemblies, assignment letters, iron rice bowl jobs, and hukou – effectively a caste system privileging city dwellers above rural ones. I come away with a better understanding of what influences present day Chinese politics and people of Chinese descent in my life, and am richer for it.

Maybe the trick to finally learning from history so that it can cease being repeated is to not only read textbooks but also novels like these. Then, we can be shown how the personal really is political, and let that sink into both our hearts and minds.

The Immortal Woman is published by House of Anansi Press