REVIEWS

Sex and globalization combine in The People’s Republic of Desire

The People’s Republic of Desire by: Annie Wang HarperCollins, 2006 US$13.95, CN$18.95 445 pages by: Interview with Annie Wang

The People’s Republic of Desire is the kind of title that suggests racy reading is ahead.

When I first started, I expected detailed accounts of the exotic sexual antics of a few modern urban women in China. My premature assessment was wrong, however. What novelist Annie Wang delivers in her novel is much more satisfying and resonant.

First of all, the desire in the novel is predominantly not sexual desire. Rather, this desire is for a Western lifestyle, complete with yearning for all the best of North American and European consumer goods and craving for the prestige that settles on the elite in a capitalist economy. "Conspicuous consumption may be an American invention but it has been perfected in China", one character says (p. 294).

Wang assembles vignettes to illustrate the market economy’s infusion into the lives of the country’s urban professionals. The possibility to become Westernized through products and services, such as study abroad and English classes, permeate the romantic pursuits and experiences of almost everyone in the book, although the central characters face conflict over the choices they are asked to make.

The novel begins with the introduction of Niuniu, the narrator. A reporter for a news service, Niuniu has recently returned from several years of university study in the United States. Niuniu is cosmopolitan with tastes that reflect her American experiences. She prefers camping and SUV’s to banquets and BMWs, a suite with a garden rather than a more posh spot in a diplomatic compound. Niuniu’s story intertwines with that of CC, another returnee from England, Lulu, a magazine editor, and Beibei, president of her own public relations company. The women help each other through the ups and downs of their lives: abortions, unfaithful men and cultural confusion brought on by the changing economy.

Wang juxtaposes these very likeable women with pictures of less likeable characters surrounding them. For the most part, male or female, the supporting cast is calculating. In the pursuit of love and marriage, they focus entirely on both the capital, and cultural capital that a partner can either give them, or help them achieve. Educational background is important, as is English speaking ability. Both women and men assess each other with the same savage scrutiny you hope your stockbroker is using in assessing investments. That’s the point: romance and marriage are clearly investments. Prospective partners that don’t rate receive clear and unequivocal dismissal. No points for looks, charm or personality. Earning potential merits; sense of humour doesn’t.

Niuniu and her friends differ. One suffers through a painful long-term affair with a lying artist. Another resorts to taking younger lovers after discovering her husband’s infidelity. Still another attempts a relationship with a Western man living in China. He receives far more attention and cultural capital from his white skin and fluent English than he ever would have in his own country.

Wang reiterates her point with example after example of women motivated by the economy to stop making decisions about love and marriage with their hearts. Instead, they follow the money trail. In one instance, an art history teacher divorces her faithful and reliable, but poor, librarian husband because their combined income is too small to get them much of a lifestyle. She leaves him after she realizes a cockroach-infested apartment with no bathroom is about as good as her life with get. She joins the ranks of the bad girls and reports she’s soon off to Australia with her new boyfriend.

Through these types of stories, Wang sketches women who stop being romantic and start being strategic. To be fair, there’s nothing particularly Chinese about this phenomenon. Any North American suburb will turn up plenty of similar examples. Still, Wang shows us how global capitalism has seeped into the hearts of Chinese women, previously insulated by the country’s own particular brand of communism. At least in Wang’s Beijing, the selection process is explicit, unlike in North America, where we delude ourselves about relationships being exempt from the market economy.

As a returnee, Niuniu also laments the loss of humility of Beijing’s citizens. She finds that "…everyone I meet is a braggart and an attention-seeker" (p.94). An effective way to market one’s cultural capital is to brag. Again, this convention is not particularly Chinese and is certainly one well mastered in the West. Regardless, bragging is annoying on whatever continent it happens.

One of the things most worthy of bragging is education. Wang wryly identifies the most important brand in China as “Harvard.” With that, she makes a key point about the commodification of education. Learning is far less important than the value placed on any link to a prestigious school or college. In a humourous example, one character hopes to give birth to a child while on vacation in the US. In this way, the child will have American citizenship and no security hassles traveling or studying in the States. Niuniu discusses the pros and cons of American versus English, Canadian and Australian education. The prospective mother determines the child should begin with kindergarten in England, for the right English accent, primary school in China, for good math and science study, high school in Canada or Australia to make friends with other immigrants, and higher education in the US for prestige.

Throughout the book, Niuniu maintains a distance from her home culture which serves her in analyzing the behaviour she sees. A sensitive observer, Niuniu endures the isolation of the returnee, the person who lives outside her country temporarily and then returns. Upon returning, she finds herself changed and foreign. She just doesn’t fit anymore and as a result, is trapped in limbo between two worlds, no longer belonging to either culture. As such, she suffers the loneliness of the global citizen and another kind of desire: the desire for home.

Wang currently lives both in China and in the Bay area of the US. Perhaps her desire for home remains unresolved, much like the desire in The People’s Republic remains unquenched.

Six Questions for Annie Wang

GP: In The People's Republic of Desire, Niuniu and her friends discuss a feeling of homelessness. I see, as well, from the bio in my copy of the book that you currently live in both the US and China. Which country feels more like "home" to you and why?

AW: As Niuniu, emotionally, I feel like Chinese.  I like the communal feelings in China and you feel you have friends everywhere but I feel more American in terms of values and principles. It's like I can have many dinner parties in China, but I can only have conversations about philosophy, metaphysics and politics in America or feel more comfortable talking about these things with my American friends.  The feeling of home changes as time changes.  I think at the moment, California is more like home.

GP: I've read that you grew up in Beijing, but now live part time in Shanghai. How does the character of the two cities differ? Why did you opt to live in Shanghai?

AW: The two cities are very different.  Beijing is more funky and raw.  There are many interesting characters in Beijing. Literature, art and politics are in daily conversations.  Even a taxi driver has a lot of say about world peace.  Shanghai is more fashionable and refined. In terms of living, it's more comfortable, convenient and more superficially glamourous. People in Shanghai are more practical. The reason I opted to live in Shanghai is because I like small roads where in Beijing, roads are becoming very broad, not meant for pedestrians.  Many alleys were torn down.  Also, in Shanghai, less people smoke and the taxies are cleaner.

GP: Your novel illustrates solid friendships among four women. In a competitive society, such friendships can be hard to maintain. What ingredients are essential for satisfying friendships like the ones you've described?

AW: Women are competitive and compassionate at the same time.  Jealousy and gossip are part of female friendship that is difficult to escape.  Yet, a caring soul makes friendship strong, especially when they need help from each other.  Also, the joy of sharing is the essential for female friendship.

GP: Your book suggests economic changes in China have affected romantic relationships in cities like Beijing. What's the difference between the importance of money, career, etc. in Chinese relationships compared to relationships in North American cities?

AW: Even with the fast economic changes, China is still a third world country. Women's status is much higher here in North America.  It's so much easier for intelligent and educated women to find good husbands here in North America. Because of the growing population, there is a big supply of young beautiful women in China, and it is much easier for men not so rich, but with a bit of money, to find much younger lovers and second wives who are willing to exchange their freedom and dignity for a Fendi bag or $400 allowance per month (which they can use to send to their hometowns in the countryside to build houses).  Another observation is that here in North America, the parents get involved less in romantic relationships because people can move freely.  In China, dating, marriage and divorce are still largely a family issue that involves the parents, siblings sometimes grandparents.  Lastly, the traditional mindset is still popular in China: Men are expected to pay for everything!

GP: I understand from your web site that you write in both English and Chinese. Does your process differ, depending on the language you're using? Do you enjoy writing more in one than the other?

AW: It's so much easier for me to write in Chinese.  I can be very jumpy, subtle, and poetic in writing Chinese.  As I write in English, I become more logical and linear.  Also because English is a second language, my vocabulary gets smaller.  But interestingly, I feel freer as I write in English.  Cultural taboos and self-censorship are non-existent.  I can explore the subjects and the concepts I am writing more freely and deeply than my Chinese writing.  In other words, the English language perhaps on the one hand restricts me a bit because it's my second language and it sometimes takes a few days to find the right word to express my feelings. Yet, it also sets me free.  I can think deeply without fear or intervention.

I really like the title of The People's Republic of Desire. The use of the word "desire" seems to suggest a longing for something. Thinking about it made me wonder what it is that you desire, or if you are in a place where you have everything you want and need. What, if anything, do you desire?

I desire inner peace.  I desire DESIRELESSNESS.  One big change I found after going back to China is that people become anxious and I see the pain of not getting the house or the car they want.  Nobody tries to hide his or her desire.  It's so much different than before.  I remember people's faces used to be emotionless because they were afraid that the betrayal of emotions could hurt them politically.  They appeared not to care, but they hid their feelings deeply.  For me neither is noble.  I think China needs faith, especially the zen and buddhism.

Like both Niuniu and Annie Wang, Gwen Pawlikowski returned to her home country after a lengthy stay in Asia, after which she experienced the returnee phenomenon. She also observed a similar "desire" for Western goods during her stint as an English teacher and communications coordinator in Tokyo. Pawlikowski now makes her home in a Greater Vancouver neighborhood with her husband, two kids and a dog. She desires more time outside, a treehouse office and liberation from suburban restlessness.