Beside the famous Green Apple Books on Clement Street is a tiny Chinese book shop. I walked in and immediately noticed the odor—familiar, even after over thirty years—Chinese books smell different from English books.
An old man sitting at the front desk was speaking Cantonese on the phone. Only one other customer was browsing. At the “Literature” section I asked for the work of Ba Jin. The old man came over and pointed them out to me. The other customer overheard us and laughed, “Wah, reading Ba Jin?” as if Ba Jin was someone unapproachable.
I walked out of the store with Family, first of Ba Jin’s Torrent triology. Down the street was a typical Chinese bakery. They were bringing sweet and savory pastries fresh out of the oven. I bought a scallion and shredded pork roll and a cup of coffee, then sat down to read.
Two guys came into the pastry shop. They sat behind me and started their conversation, yelling, as if they were hard of hearing. Their yakety-yak on food and gossip was juxtaposed with Ba Jin’s thoughtful and elegant prose. He was an author who lived through the Sino-Japanese War and the Cultural Revolution, until well into the 1980’s.
I left the pastry shop when two more men came in and joined the conversation. Ba Jin and I, well, we were outnumbered.
