The Eternal Wonder

( 16 )

Overview

Lost for forty years, a new novel by the author of The Good Earth

The Eternal Wonder
tells the coming-of-age story of Randolph Colfax (Rann for short), an extraordinarily gifted young man whose search for meaning and purpose leads him to New York, England, Paris, a mission patrolling the DMZ in Korea that will change his life forever—and, ultimately, to love.

Rann falls for the beautiful and equally brilliant...

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Overview

Lost for forty years, a new novel by the author of The Good Earth

The Eternal Wonder
tells the coming-of-age story of Randolph Colfax (Rann for short), an extraordinarily gifted young man whose search for meaning and purpose leads him to New York, England, Paris, a mission patrolling the DMZ in Korea that will change his life forever—and, ultimately, to love.

Rann falls for the beautiful and equally brilliant Stephanie Kung, who lives in Paris with her Chinese father and has no contact with her American mother, who abandoned the family when Stephanie was six years old. Both Rann and Stephanie yearn for a sense of genuine identity. Rann feels plagued by his voracious intellectual curiosity and strives to integrate his life of the mind with his experience in the world. Stephanie feels alienated from society by her mixed heritage and struggles to resolve the culture clash of her existence. Separated for long periods of time, their final reunion leads to a conclusion that even Rann, in all his hard-earned wisdom, could never have imagined.

A moving and mesmerizing fictional exploration of the themes that meant so much to Pearl Buck in her life, The Eternal Wonder is perhaps her most personal and passionate work, and will no doubt appeal to the millions of readers who have treasured her novels for generations.

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Editorial Reviews

Publishers Weekly
11/18/2013
In this recently discovered manuscript published four decades after the author's death, Nobel-Prize winner Buck (The Good Earth) heaps such good fortune on her hero, famous novelist Randolph "Rann" Colfax, that conflict seems to be an afterthought. The only son of a college professor and his wife, Rann's exceptional intelligence is clear from the start. Buck lingers a bit too long in his precocious development, from the "private sea" of his mother's womb to the process of learning to read. After Rann passes college entrance exams at age 12, his father, George, enjoins him "to see the world" beyond Ohio, and dies of cancer shortly thereafter. The novel often avoids true complexity in favor of lofty perseveration on the subjects of science and art; however, certain moments of tension are evoked brilliantly. When Rann's professor, Donald Sharpe, makes a sexual overture, Rann's mother's response is one of unexpected compassion: "‘He's in need of love where he can never find it.'" Rann travels to Brooklyn, where his grandfather invites him to move in; to England, where a widowed Lady hosts him in her castle; and to France, where he meets Chinese-American Stephanie Kung, whose father asks Rann to be his son-in-law. In spite of the seemingly global admiration, Rann does not always get what he wants. Buck's use of language is masterful, but the ending is somewhat abrupt compared to the rest of the novel—perhaps evident of its unpublished or unfinished nature. Moreover, the ease with which Buck's young protagonist goes through much of life overshadows the author's lustrous writing. (Oct.)
From the Publisher
REVIEW QUOTES: PRAISE FOR THE GOOD EARTH
 
“[Buck] did for the working people of twentieth-century China something of what Dickens had done for London’s nineteenth-century poor.” —Hilary Spurling, author of Pearl Buck in China
 
“One need never have lived in China or know anything about the Chinese to understand [The Good Earth] or respond to its appeal.” —Boston Evening Transcript
 
“One of the most important and revealing novels of our time.” —Pittsburgh Post-Gazette
 “A comment upon the meaning and tragedy of life as it is lived in any age in any quarter of the globe.” —The New York Times 
From The Critics
2013-10-01
A newly unearthed novel by the Nobel Prize–winning author of The Good Earth, following the rocketlike rise of a literary prodigy. In the final years of her life, Buck (1892-1973) worked on this novel, which was discovered in late 2012 in a storage unit in Fort Worth, Texas. Buck earned her fame by illuminating China for Americans who understood little about the country, but she squandered her reputation with overproductivity, writing more than 40 novels and nearly 30 nonfiction books. This book will do little to elevate her literary esteem. It tracks its hero, Randolph "Rann" Colfax, literally from the womb and into his early 20s, and the story is framed with wooden set pieces and melodramatic dialogue. The son of a college professor, Rann quickly emerges as a boy genius, and various people soon materialize to support or take advantage of this bright boy. A male teacher attempts to seduce him (prompting an odd lecture from Rann's mother, who's less concerned with pedophilia than homosexuality). A wealthy English woman helps him find his sexual self, and the daughter of a Chinese art dealer introduces him to the charms of Paris. In the military, Rann monitors the Korean DMZ, and he witnesses enough corruption during his stint to produce a novel that quickly becomes a sensation. The hackneyed plot diminishes moments that reveal Buck's genuine sensitivity to the Asian diaspora; one of the best-drawn characters is the Chinese manservant of Rann's grandfather in Brooklyn. Written late in her life, this book is worth attention as a summing up of Buck's experiences and interests: the links between art and scientific rigor, the fate of Asia in the American century and the perils of literary celebrity. As entertainment, though, it's dated and thin. Buck scholars only need apply.
Kirkus Reviews
2013-10-01
A newly unearthed novel by the Nobel Prize–winning author of The Good Earth, following the rocketlike rise of a literary prodigy. In the final years of her life, Buck (1892-1973) worked on this novel, which was discovered in late 2012 in a storage unit in Fort Worth, Texas. Buck earned her fame by illuminating China for Americans who understood little about the country, but she squandered her reputation with overproductivity, writing more than 40 novels and nearly 30 nonfiction books. This book will do little to elevate her literary esteem. It tracks its hero, Randolph "Rann" Colfax, literally from the womb and into his early 20s, and the story is framed with wooden set pieces and melodramatic dialogue. The son of a college professor, Rann quickly emerges as a boy genius, and various people soon materialize to support or take advantage of this bright boy. A male teacher attempts to seduce him (prompting an odd lecture from Rann's mother, who's less concerned with pedophilia than homosexuality). A wealthy English woman helps him find his sexual self, and the daughter of a Chinese art dealer introduces him to the charms of Paris. In the military, Rann monitors the Korean DMZ, and he witnesses enough corruption during his stint to produce a novel that quickly becomes a sensation. The hackneyed plot diminishes moments that reveal Buck's genuine sensitivity to the Asian diaspora; one of the best-drawn characters is the Chinese manservant of Rann's grandfather in Brooklyn. Written late in her life, this book is worth attention as a summing up of Buck's experiences and interests: the links between art and scientific rigor, the fate of Asia in the American century and the perils of literary celebrity. As entertainment, though, it's dated and thin. Buck scholars only need apply.
Library Journal
01/01/2014
In 2012, this posthumous work by Nobel and Pulitzer Prize-winning author Buck was found in a storage unit in Texas and brought to the attention of Edgar Walsh Buck, her son and literary executor. On the surface, this simple tale depicts the life of an extraordinary young man, Rann (Randolph) Colfax, and his journey from birth to adulthood. Astonishing his parents by being able to count by age two and read by three, Rann proves himself to be intellectually beyond his years when he begins college at age 12. However, his life begins to change following a dose of unwelcome reality when he is approached sexually by the one male professor for whom he had much scholarly admiration. Later, Rann's transition to adulthood comes to full fruition when he meets Lady Mary, an older Englishwoman, while traveling abroad. Finally, he becomes enamored of Stephanie, a half-Chinese and half-American girl living in Paris with her Chinese father. VERDICT Written with sensitivity and subtleness, this work makes it easy to see why Buck garnered literary accolades. Her experience in China is evident, as are the strong themes of personal and cultural identity. Forty years after Buck's passing, this is still a thoughtful work to be shared with a new generation of readers.—Shirley Quan, Orange Cty. P.L., Santa Ana, CA
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9781480439702
  • Publisher: Open Road Media
  • Publication date: 10/22/2013
  • Pages: 304
  • Sales rank: 326,184
  • Product dimensions: 5.30 (w) x 7.90 (h) x 1.10 (d)

Meet the Author

Pearl S. Buck (1892–1973) was a bestselling and Nobel Prize–winning author. Her classic novel The Good Earth (1931) was awarded a Pulitzer Prize and William Dean Howells Medal. Born in Hillsboro, West Virginia, Buck was the daughter of missionaries and spent much of the first half of her life in China, where many of her books are set. In 1934, civil unrest in China forced Buck back to the United States. Throughout her life she worked in support of civil and women’s rights, and established Welcome House, the first international, interracial adoption agency. In addition to her highly acclaimed novels, Buck wrote two memoirs and biographies of both of her parents. For her body of work, Buck received the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1938, the first American woman to have done so. She died in Vermont. 

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Read an Excerpt

The Eternal Wonder

a novel


By Pearl S. Buck

OPEN ROAD INTEGRATED MEDIA

Copyright © 2013 Pearl S. Buck Family Trust
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4804-3966-5



CHAPTER 1

PART I

* * *


He lay sleeping in still waters. This was not to say that his world was always motionless. There were times when he was aware of motion, even violent motion, in his universe. The warm fluid that enfolded him could rock him to and fro, could even toss him about, so that instinctively he spread his arms wide, his hands flailing, his legs spreading in the sprinting fashion of a frog. Not that he knew anything about frogs—it was too soon for that. It was too soon for him to know. Instinct was as yet his only tool. He was quiescent most of the time, active only when responding to unexpected movements in the outer universe.

These responses, necessary, his instinct told him, to protect himself, became also pleasurable. His instinct extended into positive action. He no longer waited for outer stimulus. Instead he felt it in himself. He began to move his arms and legs; he turned over, at first by accident but then with purpose and a sense of accomplishment. He could move from side to side in this warm private sea, and as he grew larger he became aware of its limitations. Now and again hand and foot struck a soft wall, but a definite wall beyond which he could not move. Back and forth, up and down, around and around, but not beyond—this was his limitation.

Instinct again worked in him to provide an impetus for more violent action. He was daily growing bigger and stronger, and as this became true his private sea grew smaller. Soon he would be too big for his environment. He felt this without knowing that he did. Moreover, he was impinged upon by dim, faraway sounds. Silence had been his surrounding, but now the two small appendages, one on either side of his head, seemed to contain echoes. These appendages had a purpose he could not understand because he could not think, and he could not think because he did not know anything. He could feel, however. He could receive a sensation. Sometimes he wanted to open his mouth to make a sound, but he did not know what a sound was, or even that he wanted to make it. He could not know anything—not yet. He did not even know that he could not know. Instinct was all he had. He was at the mercy of instinct because he knew nothing.

Instinct, nevertheless, guided him to a final awareness that he was too big for whatever it was that contained him. He felt uncomfortable, and this discomfort impelled him suddenly to rebel. Whatever he was in was too small for him and he wanted instinctively to be free of it. His instinct manifested itself in an increasing impatience. He flung out his arms and legs with such violence that one day the walls broke, and the waters rushed away, deserting him, leaving him helpless. At this moment, or thereabouts, for he still could not understand, since he did not know, he felt forces impelling him headfirst down an impassably narrow passage. He could never have made any progress except that he was wet and slimy. Inch by inch, contortions of some sort compelled him onward, downward, in darkness. Not that he knew anything about darkness, since he could know nothing. But he felt himself impelled by forces, pushing him onward. Or was he merely being rejected because he had grown too big? Impossible to know!

He continued his journey, forcing himself through the narrow passage, forcing its walls to widen. A new sort of fluid gushed out, carrying him on his way until suddenly, with such suddenness indeed that he seemed expelled, he emerged into infinite space. He was seized, although he did not know it, but he was seized by the head, though gently, lifted up to a great height—by what, he did not know since he could not—and then found himself dangling by his feet, his head down, all this happening so quickly that he did not know how to respond. Then at that instant, he felt on the soles of his feet something sharp, a new sensation. Suddenly he knew something. He knew pain. He flung out his arms. He did not know what to do with pain. He wanted to return to where he had always been in those safe, warm waters, but he did not know how to return. Yet he did not want to go on. He felt stifled, he felt helpless, he felt utterly alone, but he did not know what to do.

While he hesitated, fearful without knowing what fear was and only conscious by instinct that he was in danger without knowing what danger was, he felt again the sharp dart of pain on his feet. Something grasped him by the ankles, someone shocked him, he did not know what, he did not know who, but he now knew pain. Suddenly instinct came to his rescue. He could not return, neither could he stay as he was. Therefore he must go on. He must escape pain by going on. He did not know how, but he knew he must go on. He willed to go on, and with this will instinct led him on. He opened his mouth and made a noise, a cry of protest against pain, but this protest was positive. He felt his lungs suddenly clear of liquid he no longer needed and he drew in air. He did not know it was air, but he felt it take the place of water and it was not static. Something inside instinctively impelled and expelled it, and while this went on suddenly he was crying. He did not know he was crying, but he heard his own voice for the first time, though he did not know it was his voice or what a voice was, but by instinct he liked crying and hearing.

And now he was righted, his head lifted, and he was cradled in something warm and soft. He felt oil rubbed over his body, though he did not know oil, and then he was washed, though he could only accept whatever was happening, since he did not know what anything was, but there was not pain, and he was warm and comfortable, though very tired without knowing it, and his eyes closed and he went to sleep, without even knowing what sleep was. Instinct was still all he had, but as yet instinct was enough.


FROM SLEEP HE WAS AWAKENED. He did not know the difference, for knowing was not yet part of his being. He was no longer in his private sea, but he was warm and enfolded. He was aware, too, of movement, though not his own. Simply he was moving through air instead of liquid and he was breathing steadily, though not knowing he did. Instinct impelled him to breathe. Instinct impelled him too to move his legs and arms in the air as once he had done in the private sea. Then suddenly, as everything happened to him suddenly now, he felt himself laid down on a surface neither soft nor hard. He felt himself held close against another warmth, and his mouth put to yet another warmth. Still not knowing, instinct stirred. He opened his mouth, he felt some small, warm softness pushed gently into his mouth, a sweetish liquid touched his tongue, instinctive pleasure seized his whole body, and he felt a necessity entirely new and unexpected. He began to suck, he began to swallow and was wholly engrossed in this new instinct. This was something he had never experienced, this pleasure in his whole being. As strongly as he had felt pain, he now felt pleasure. This was his first knowing, pain and pleasure. He did not know what they were, but he knew the difference between them, and that he hated pain and that he loved pleasure. This knowing was something more than instinct, although instinct had its part. He knew instinctively the feeling of pleasure and he knew instinctively the feel of pain. When he felt pain, instinctively he opened his mouth and cried aloud and even with anger. He learned that when he did this, what caused him pain stopped and this became knowledge.


WHAT HE DID NOT KNOW was that after a time when he felt pleasure, his lips parted and his mouth widened. Sometimes a different sort of noise came from him; he drew in his breath with delight. At the sight of certain Creatures this could happen, especially if they made noises to him and touched his cheeks or chin. He learned that when he showed his pleasure first, they responded with such noises and touches. This also became knowledge. Whatever he could do or cause himself, by his own wish and effort, became knowledge and by instinct he used his knowledge. Thus instinct led him to the knowledge of persons. At first he was aware only of himself, his own pleasure, his own pain. Then he began to associate certain persons with his pleasure or his pain. First of all persons thus associated was his mother. He knew her first only instinctively and by pleasure. He fed at her breasts and this was his primary pleasure. Sucking, he gazed instinctively into her face until its features became part of the process of pleasure. Instinctively, as he learned to smile when he felt pleasure, he first smiled at her.

Then one day he was shocked, even frightened, to discover that this pleasurable, pleasure-giving other could also inflict pain. He had been feeling an instinctive need for closing his jaws on something, for they were sore and feverish. When he had suckled enough to satisfy his hunger this day, he instinctively closed his jaws upon what was in his mouth. To his surprise she uttered a cry not unlike his own when he felt pain and at the same moment he again felt pain. It was on his cheek, a part of himself of which he had not yet been conscious. Instantly, by instinct, he burst into loud weeping, and he felt on his face something wet, like water. They were his first tears, and they were the result of a new sort of pain. It was not from his cheek, which was still stinging, but from a wound inside him which he could not define. It spread through his breast, an inner hurt. He suddenly felt alone and lost. This soft warm Creature who tended him day and night, who suckled him at her breasts and upon whom he was utterly dependent, had inflicted pain upon him! He had trusted her wholly, and now he could not trust her because she had hurt him! He felt separated, a being attached nowhere, and therefore lost. True, as he continued heartbroken, weeping, she gathered him into her arms, she rocked him to and fro, but he could not stop weeping. She thrust her nipple into his open mouth, offering him food again, the warm, sweet food that he always eagerly accepted, but he turned his head away and refused it. He cried until he no longer felt the inner pain and then he fell asleep.


WHEN HE WOKE FROM SLEEP, he was in his crib, lying on his right side. He turned on his back and then on his left side. With a desire new to him, he felt impelled to his right side and, still impelled, to turn onto his stomach. Then because his face was pressed against the bed, he was impelled to lift his head. Everything looked new and different, as though he had never been here before. He seemed to be gazing from a height. Moreover, he could turn his head to one side and another. He was constantly being surprised like this. Now he heard a loud cry and felt himself swept up into the arms of the Creature, she who could inflict such pain that he had wept himself to sleep. But this was pleasure he was feeling, a new sort of pleasure, having nothing to do with food. If he had felt inner pain, he was now pervaded by inner pleasure. He belonged to her again. He felt himself enfolded and attached again. She was making sounds, he felt her lips on his cheeks, in his neck. She called and another Creature came and stared at him. He looked from one to the other, feeling attached to them both. This was instinct again. He did not know them nor why he felt a part of them. But it was pleasurable. He felt his mouth move, his lips waver by instinct, he made a new sound and he heard cries of joy and surprise from the two others.


AFTER THIS HE FELT HIMSELF CHANGING almost daily. What seemed impossible to do, he felt impelled to do. It became entirely natural when he was in his crib to roll over onto his stomach and lift his head. Then he pushed himself up and his world grew bigger. He could see outside the crib. In a few days, how many he did not know, for he was still impelled by instinct, he found that he could also raise his body to his knees. On hands and knees he rocked back and forth, feeling motion throughout his body. It was pleasurable, and he did it again and again. After this, the days moved quickly. Instinct moved more and more swiftly to knowledge. Now it was a matter of habit to get on his hands and knees. He knew how to do it, and it was no longer enough. Instinct persuaded him to move forward, putting one hand in front of the other, his knees following, and then when he reached the limits of the crib, or the place the Creature put him by day, since he could go no farther, he grasped the wooden slats and pulled himself upward.

Now he was really at a height. At such a height everything, the whole world, looked different. He was no longer beneath. He was above. He was high above the world and he laughed with joy.


PRESSING HIS FACE BETWEEN THE SLATS, he saw the Creatures, those with whom he belonged, one or two, moving here and there. Instinct stirred in him, but it was also knowledge. He had many ways now of knowing. He watched with his eyes, he had seen without knowing at first, but now knowing came, when he continued to see—spoon, plate, cup—instead of breast, these, too, he knew were for feeding. He was learning to know. More time was spent now in learning than in instinctive movements. He was surrounded by things. Each of these had to be learned about, how it felt in his hands, or if it were too big to hold, then to touch. He liked to hold and to touch. He liked also to taste, which after all was only touching with his tongue. When he found this way of knowing, he put everything in his mouth or if it were too big, then to his mouth. That was how he found out about taste. Everything had a taste as well as a surface for touch. He began to know more and more, because it was instinct to learn and so to know.


HE BECAME ENTIRELY DEVOTED to the business of learning, and as part of this business it became necessary to move. He had found that if he put one hand in front of the other, one after the other, his knees followed. The narrow pen became too small to contain him. He felt impelled to get out, to go into the beyond and he cried, he shouted, using his voice to have his way until he was lifted out and into the beyond. Then on hands and knees he explored. When he reached a chair or table leg, his instinct to climb moved him to pull himself up to a greater height. At first he did not know what to do. He was on his feet, holding on to something with his hands, but what came next he did not know. True, he saw what other Creatures did, but he did not know how they did it. There was also the danger of falling. He had tried letting go with his hands and immediately he sat down so suddenly on the floor that he had felt it necessary to cry so that the Creature came and took him in her arms to comfort him. He did not know that nothing is permanent. Everything began with not knowing. He had to learn that he could try again and this began by instinct impelling him to continue to try.

The Creature helped him now. She held him by both hands and drew him to his feet. Then pulling him gently toward her, he found that by instinct one foot followed another and he moved. He could move! Never again would he be content to be contained in a space. He was a free Creature like the other Creatures. True, he still fell now and then, sometimes with pain, but he learned to push himself to his feet and start again.

This was new pleasure. He had no wish or will to go anywhere, to reach any goal but simply to keep on his feet and move. True, he was often attracted by some object to stop, to see, to feel, to touch, to taste, to learn by all such means what an object was and what its use. Once he knew, instinct moved him on to something new. Gradually he learned to balance himself so that he did not fall, or not so often.


MEANWHILE HE FOUND IT NECESSARY to make noises. His voice he had discovered almost immediately after he had emerged from the private sea, for instinctively he had cried from pain. Pain had taught him to make a noise of protest. Then he had learned laughter. He used both of these noises every day and often. But there were other noises of the voice. The Creatures used their voices constantly, sometimes for laughter, but also for other sounds. They used a certain noise for him, for example. It was the first special noise he learned, the first constant, the first word—his name, Randolph, Rannie. This word was most often used with a few others, again connected with pain or pleasure. They were two short words, "no" and "yes." No, Rannie—yes, Rannie—meant pain or pleasure. Words could not be learned by instinct. They could only be learned by experience. At first he had disregarded them. No meant nothing to him. But he soon found that, if he disregarded it, it was followed by pain, a sudden slap of his hand, or on his bottom. He learned then to pause when he heard the word "no," especially when it was followed by "Rannie," which meant him. He learned that everyone had a special word. He learned "Mama," he learned "Papa." They were the Creatures to whom he belonged and who belonged to him. They were the ones who said no and yes to him. They also said "come." He began to know by learning when to use "no" and "yes" himself. One day they said, "Come, Rannie, come, come." It happened that at this moment he did not want to come. He was busy with his own concerns. Instinctively he used the word he knew best.


(Continues...)

Excerpted from The Eternal Wonder by Pearl S. Buck. Copyright © 2013 Pearl S. Buck Family Trust. Excerpted by permission of OPEN ROAD INTEGRATED MEDIA.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Table of Contents

Contents

Foreword,
Epigraph,
Part I,
Part II,
A Biography of Pearl S. Buck,

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Customer Reviews

Average Rating 4
( 16 )
Rating Distribution

5 Star

(8)

4 Star

(5)

3 Star

(1)

2 Star

(1)

1 Star

(1)

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Sort by: Showing all of 16 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted January 4, 2014

    I thoroughly enjoyed this tale. It started a little slowly, but

    I thoroughly enjoyed this tale. It started a little slowly, but once I was into Rann's boyhood, it began to gel for me. It turned out to be a quick and interesting read. Learned a lot about Chinese culture and would recommend this book highly.

    12 out of 12 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted December 28, 2013

    Beautiful!

    I loved the character in this story although the beginning of his life as a child, moved too slowly for me. When he went to college and traveled it was fantastic knowing all his thoughts. I highly recommend this to those who love Pearl Buck or would like to begin reading her works

    8 out of 8 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted August 17, 2014

    Wow...my first introduction to the author and now I feel compell

    Wow...my first introduction to the author and now I feel compelled to read everything she wrote.  Had her life not ended when it did, I can imagine this work as a much longer story, covering more of Rann's life.  Very prescient in details on war and society.  

    3 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted August 16, 2014

    Masterpiece

    Moving, thought-provoking, gripping, humorous. It's no surprise Ms. Buck won the Nobel prize as a young woman. This novel is rich and satisfying. I will be thinking about it for a long time.

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted September 8, 2014

    Very interesting concept

    The book, start to finish, gives a view of the lead character as we see inside his head and his thought processes. The author portrays his conflicts and how he must deal with life as he perceives it as someone who is beyond his years.

    It was an enjoyable read.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted August 11, 2014

    1 out of 6 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted September 12, 2014

    So disappointing

    I never finished the book for I was to taken back with the writing. This was not the Pearl S. Buck's books that I have read in the past. I would never recommend this book to anyone.

    What a shame to drag Pearl Busck's name in the mud!

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted September 5, 2014

    It was good

    It was an enjoyable. read. i thought different from other books.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted September 5, 2014

    Very good read

    Thoroughly enjoyed it.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted August 31, 2014

    Another winner

    I loved her books as a child. Now i remember why I loved her books! As usual we get a glimpse of Chinese culture as well as Korean during the 30's. Her prose makes one feel like they are in the story themselves. A lovely luttle book.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted August 20, 2014

    please do not judge the author by this "lost" manuscript

    She would have been best served by not trying to get this in shape read her chinese novels

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted August 16, 2014

    For those who want to read beyond e books

    It is difficult to locate her books now used or in libraries her books both about china are the best when she gets to usa they are not quite as original because she wrote first in chinese and then in english so you have an english story that was first conceived in chinese and then translated into english

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  • Anonymous

    Posted August 13, 2014

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    0 out of 11 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted August 11, 2014

    Sea

    K

    0 out of 10 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted December 29, 2013

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted August 21, 2014

    No text was provided for this review.

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