“Homeseeking” is the debut novel by Taiwan-American writer Karissa Chen, a romantic historical drama spanning several decades and thousands of miles as it traces the lives of two people in love. It’s bittersweet, part soap opera, part war-torn love story, and part lyrical poem about the beauty of China. These are successfully combined.
The two central characters of “Homeseeking” are Zhang Suchi and Wang Haiwen. Chen introduces them by showing readers the most momentous events at the bookends of their lives. The first is when Haiwen must leave Shanghai and his beloved Suchi to fight for the Nationalist Army, and the second is their unexpected reunion in a Los Angeles supermarket in 2008.
Love Amid 20th-Century Chinese Strife
Chen adheres to this format for the rest of “Homeseeking,” skipping back and forth in time. One chapter might be set during the oppressive Japanese occupation in China, and the next might move ahead to 1960s Hong Kong or 1980s New York. It’s a useful and common storytelling device, grabbing readers’ attention with dramatic moments that aren’t fully explained.This technique also requires the writer to enlighten readers with appropriate flashbacks or future explanation chapters—and Chen doesn’t disappoint. She skillfully creates two likable characters, who must overcome traumas and past mistakes to rekindle their true love.
What impressed me was the depth Chen put into all her characters. She allowed them to display ugly faults and naïve dreams and stumble into well-intended yet disastrous choices.
As children, Haiwen and Suchi are two oddballs in their Shanghai “longtang,” or neighborhood. Suchi has little interest in girlish pursuits. She craves exploration and adventure, dreaming of being a singer instead of the mundane jobs expected of women beyond marriage duties.
Rich Realism
Secondary characters are likewise richly detailed. Suchi’s father, Li’oe, is a gentle bookseller who’s a bit of a historian and philosopher. He believes China’s isolationist attitude and hubris were key to its recent downfall. Her mother, Sieu’in, on the other hand, is angry and afraid of anything that breaks with tradition. Chen gives similar care and consideration in crafting the rest of Haiwen and Suchi’s family and friends.Even better, everyone in “Homeseeking” is permitted to break and fail in all-too-human ways. Haiwen loses his music during the horrors of combat: “And then one day, [Haiwen] ... found the symphony had vanished. … All he had left was the echo of the feelings it had once evoked—of hope and regret and faith that life held meaning.”
Later, in the 1960s, Haiwen’s deterioration continues as he develops a costly gambling addiction that threatens his marriage and family. Meanwhile, Suchi becomes a singer and waitress in a Hong Kong nightclub in order to survive despite the stigma attached to such a job. A wealthy exporter proposes marriage, but she doesn’t love him. Yet, she ultimately gives in.
An Impressive Debut
My primary complaint about “Homeseeking” is its title, which seems a bit misleading and awkward. The story’s core is more about characters reconnecting rather than about a nation or location. Even though the dialogue occasionally strays into melodrama or becomes mildly contrived—especially when the author wants to frame political and cultural contexts—it’s very natural and evocative overall.For a debut author, “Homeseeking” is a very impressive start to what I hope is the first of many works to come. Through solid prose and richly drawn characters, Chen has given readers a gentle, yet riveting story that melds personal and political history with the power of human endurance and the pursuit of everlasting love. Definitely recommended.
