Wintry Night by Li Qiao

★★★★

Translated from a Taiwanese trilogy, this book has two parts: Part One is the first book of the trilogy, Part Two is the third; the second book of the trilogy was omitted. Unfortunately, an unabridged translated version isn't available.

A few pages into the book, I had to draw a family tree. Part One of the book focuses on the extended Peng family, and without writing it all down, the names and relationships would have been a big jumble to me. Part Two shifts the focus onto the extended family of one branch of the Peng family, and I had to draw a whole new family tree to keep up with the story.

Though it tells a fictional story, the book is an educational introduction to Taiwanese history. Part One describes the hardships of those who first opened up aboriginal mountain lands for farming (a period of time that reminded me of the harsh life of American pioneers who moved West into Native American Indian territory). Part Two tells of the difficulties faced by Taiwanese men conscripted into the Japanese army towards the end of World War II. Frequent references were made to the anti-Japanese resistance movement (which reminded me of the French Resistance against the Nazi occupation of France). I would have liked to have read more about the anti-Japanese resistance, but alas, it was the omitted second book of the trilogy that focused on that part of history.

Despite finding similarities to other more familiar histories, the stories in Wintry Night are entirely Taiwanese. While the book at times read like a non-fiction account of one family's history, the author interspersed the story with poetic descriptions of the Taiwanese mountains and the spirit of Taiwanese people. One understands how much the environs were an integral part of the lives and livelihood of the early settlers, and how much being Taiwanese (and more specifically, Hakka Chinese) was at the heart of their identities.

While Part One told of hardships and struggles, it's clear that hope existed, and perhaps the Peng family would one day prosper. In this part of the book, people seemed to act rashly, and I didn't always understand a person's motivations. I wasn't sure if I was missing something, if the author wasn't developing the characters enough, or if some important detail was lost in the translation.

Part Two, meanwhile, was somber and depressing, with graphic descriptions of the casualties of war. Even the rare faint glimmer of hope felt more like a yearning, blind faith rather than a practical possibility. The endings of both parts were poignant and artistically beautiful, but left me feeling empty. As the reader, I knew the family would survive - as they did after every setback - but I still wanted to read more, to find out how they fared.