Their affair takes place over the course of several years in 1920s Wellington, when the anti-Chinese legislation was rampant throughout New Zealand, and meant that the only time the two could safely be together was in the innocuous hours between night and morning.
Both are lost souls in the sense that Katherine, whose husband—editor of tabloid newspaper, The Truth—has just died. She is left wondering how to possibly support her virile teenage son, Robbie, and reticent younger daughter, Edie, who are each reflections of their parents.
Yung, on the other hand, fled from Kwangtung, China, with his brother, Shun, in 1905. He sees ghosts in the slums of Wellington’s Chinatown where the two survive by running a fruit and vegetable store. In his dreams, Yung’s deceased wife and child return to the surface, blurring past and present into an indistinguishable haze.
Their attraction is such a subtle thing that neither one recognizes it at first. When Katherine enters his store, Yung—relieved at not being berated for his alien status—offers her a piece of fruit more opulent than she could normally afford. In exchange, Katherine greets him with a gentle affection that he has never experienced before in China or New Zealand.
After living most of her life with an aggressive husband made of whisky, tobacco and cheap headlines, Katherine is unsure of what to make of this. The strange man speaks to her in poetry: “Language not good or bad. Your mouth good or bad.”
Katherine’s passivity and indecisiveness make her less than endearing. For a time she continues to look at Yung through the eyes of those around her. They warn her: “He’s a Chinaman. That makes him worse than a Jew and maybe a little better than a dog. Maybe.”
Wong has previously published one collection of poetry. She often skims over the larger events such as World War I, instead preferring to focus on the character’s shifting consciences.
The novel is written mostly in the third-person with occasional monologues from a number of voices. The book’s slightness means that the characters are often every bit as ghostly as the apparitions and demons which haunt them.
But such a structure also captures the delicate nature of Yung and Katherine’s love, a gossamer bond that crumbles the moment either try to express it in words.
There’s an undeniable touch of New Zealand author Janet Frame evident in the breakdown of a New Zealand family. Katherine’s once staid domestic existence is disturbed by her new-found love and a son determined to carry on his late father’s patriotic beliefs.
But Wong’s voice is very much her own—ethereal and challenging. The book’s ending, shattering in its simplicity, is a testament to Wong’s subtlety and skill as a writer.
She has produced a thought-provoking, deeply affecting work about the choices we make and the courage to stay true to oneself.
As the Earth Turns Silver by Alison Wong (2009) is published by Penguin. Mitchell Jordan is a Sydney-based writer.
