Yao Emei – författare
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175 kr
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Is it too much to ask for an ordinary, boring life?Bai Jian is a typical Chinese boy growing up in a big city. But his life is far from typical: his mother abandoned him when he was a baby, and his father, Hei Jian, is always out of work, always fighting with his long parade of girlfriends, always getting the two of them involved in some harebrained scheme.The latest idea involves spending every last dime they have putting Bai Jian up in a posh boarding school so that Hei Jian can leave, and pursue his dream of becoming a big-time movie director. All Bai Jian has ever wanted is a warm bed to sleep in, a safe place to return to at the end of the day, enough food to fill his belly. . .and a family who's not just going to abandon him on a whim.He soon realizes: while he may not have been born into this sort of family, maybe he can find one out there in the world himself?From author Yao Emei and translator Kelly Zhang comes a heart-rending, emotional middle grade novel about a contemporary boy in China searching for a home - and whose resourcefulness and generous heart carry him through. Readers who fell in love withBecause of Winn-Dixie andGhost will discover an inimitable voice in Bai Jian that will stay with them forever.P R A I S EIntimate and introspective."-Kirkus"Readers attracted to international novels in translation or stories about resilient, precocious teens who don't get into too much trouble will find lots to like here."-Booklist
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Modern China moves fast, leaving its people trailing behind. The mirage of a picture-perfect home compels some to gamble away the family house, while others live with debts of a shameful past. When something inevitably cracks, it’s always the women who are left to pick up the pieces.In four stories, Yao Emei shines a brutally honest light on the crumbling foundations of the family unit with scalpel-sharp precision. As her characters struggle to escape a vicious cycle of abuse, come inside – or stare through the window – at your peril: after all, what’s a closet without its skeletons?