Death of a Red Heroine, Qiu Xiaolong

   I have been wanting to read some Chinese fiction for awhile. I wanted something a bit seedy and underground. Maybe something a bit spicy. Qiu Xiaolong came up as a candidate on a list somewhere about a year ago. So, I got some of his books and they have been on my Kindle idling for a bit. At last, I started reading this first in a series of detective fiction novels.
   Qiu Xiaolong, I had originally thought, would be a Chinese writer whose works are translated into English. That thought was only half correct. He is Chinese, but he moved to the US and continues to live there since the early 90s. For his work, Death of a Red Heroine, he was awarded "the 2001 Anthony Award for Best First Novel by a mystery writer and The Wall Street Journal ranked it as the third best political novel of all time. It was based in part on an actual sex and drug scandal from the early 1990s." (from Wikipedia.org)
   It's been awhile since I have been gripped so tightly by a great narrative. There are many aspects that make this book endearing to me.
   First, the setting. I work in China these days. It's 2018 and I've been in China since 2016. I don't really have a solid picture of what China was like in the past aside from what my ex-girlfriend used to tell me. I can certainly see elements of similarity between her memories and the descriptions rendered by Xiaolong. So, in a lot of ways, I feel like Xiaolong is really putting me in touch with the country that has tolerated me to work at a second tier public university.
   Second, I really love his main character, Chen. Chen and I have a few things in common: our love for poetry and a bachelor's degree in English literature. I will say that my love for poetry has mostly gone to sleep for quite some time. I appreciate to an extent, but consider it a bit of an anachronism these days. Perhaps a part of the problem is mine. Perhaps it's the quality of the work. Once upon a time, the greatest writers wrought their full wit on metered, rhythmic, and otherworldly poetry. Today, it is largely left in the laps of those who either like to feel sorry for themselves in some kind of sloppy prose or splatter words on the page much like certain abstract painters abuse canvas. Whatever the case, I love how poetry often helps Chen visualize the world, his interactions with others, and how he ultimately defines himself.
   The plot is fairly simple: a man kills a Chinese model. Chen, the lead detective, is sent to find out who killed her. Eventually he discovers that the killer was a child of a high ranking inner party member. As he gets close to unraveling the case, and the killer, Wu, becomes aware that he's being investigated, Chen very nearly loses his ability to pursue Wu. Through some help from high places, he manages to finish the case. In the end, Wu is tried and executed through the late hours of the night. It's quite a brutal finish.
   Some things that are interesting and stood out for me: the victim, the model named Guan, was famous enough that many people all over China could recognize her. Yet, she lived in a shabby apartment. She is not afforded special privileges despite her fame. There was no economic benefit for what she did. In fact, she had to be the perfect person at all times. She is compromised by Wu who drugs her than photographs her in sexual poses. Yet, she could see the neighbors below her through the holes in her floor. She was treated differently by her neighbors, but not in any kind of positive way. For the entire building she lived in, there were four phones that could be used with some payment. They all had to share a common kitchen area.
   Some things Xiaolong wrote stuck out for me:
   "Political correctness was a shell. It should not, could not, spell an absence of personal life."
   On how China treated its higher education professors, "The poorest is a Ph.D., and the dumbest is a professor."
   "A room's like a woman, he reflected. It also possesses you. Besides, you have to spend a fortune to make it love you." I don't know if this is true about women, but it does seem to be true about a room.
   "It is not people that make interpretations, but interpretations that make people."

   I really enjoyed reading this book and would easily say it's among the best 3-5 novels I've read this year.