This week, we take a look at Big in China by Alan Paul.
If you happen to recall our discussion of Foremost Good Fortune a few weeks ago, you might think this blog is turning into Your Primer on Expat Living, China Edition.
Paul was the “trailing spouse” of his wife, Becky, who accepted the assignment of the Wall Street Journal’s Beijing bureau chief. Becky and Alan are one of those couples who appear to have worked out the tug of two careers. They started their marriage taking turns moving for one another’s jobs. As Becky rose in the ranks of journalism, Alan happily ceded to her talent and drive, then busied himself as a freelance writer for Guitar and Slam magazines.
Moving their three children to Beijing, they settled into a gated compound known as the “Beijing Riviera.” Alan and the kids faced a choice:
Stay behind the walls, enjoying the upper-middle-class comforts modeled after life back home in New Jersey. Soccer fields. Fascinating expat friends from all over the globe. Neighborhood dinner parties. Household staff.
Or, learn the language, climb on their bicycles and explore the real streets of China. Visit the noodle shops and the Tao temples.
You can probably guess which choice Alan Paul made.
In addition touring the country, Paul continued his freelance work. And any self-respecting rock music writer would probably own a guitar, just a little something to pick around on while sitting in his living room with a Friday night beer.
Paul packed his guitar for the move, but it arrived broken. His search for a repair shop led him to Woodie Wu. Pretty soon, Woodie and Alan were playing music together.
How about we find a drummer? A bass player?
This led to the central adventure of Big in China: an American man lives his dream of putting together a band.
Will it be just a bunch of noise-makers in a garage? Or are they destined for the hot stage lights?
Will anybody notice? Will anybody pay? Will there be drama and overdoses? Or friendship and that musical telepathy that makes for improvisational magic?
Surprisingly, Alan admits that he’s not that great of a singer. He barely possesses enough range to get through “Happy Birthday.”
Big in China is a warm, easygoing memoir. Paul’s music adventures may appeal to rock fans, most particularly those who love the Allman Brothers. Maybe if they played Celtic, I might have swooned over his music. Think of it: a Jew from New Jersey, and bunch of Chinese guys, playing bagpipes and fiddles.
You don’t think that’s too much to ask, to you?
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Paul admits that his family life in the Beijing Riviera was “fake rich,” far more luxurious than anything he could have afforded back home.
In the spirit of that admission, I offer up “fake Chinese.” Apricot Salsa Chicken and Lemon-Butter Snow Peas borrow ingredients and flavors you might find at your local chopstick joint. But trust me, this food is as American as the quarters jingling in your pocket.
But let’s not trouble ourselves over authenticity. Let’s just grab our forks and dig in.
Oh, and here’s the irony: we shared this meal with friends who just happen to be packing up for an expat stint in Korea.
One of these days, I may yet have another expat memoir to review.
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