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Summary
Summary
NATIONAL BESTSELLER * In a powerful debut about modern-day motherhood, immigration, and identity, a pregnant Chinese woman stakes a claim to the American dream in California.
"Utterly absorbing."--Celeste Ng * "A marvel of a first novel."-- O: The Oprah Magazine * "The most eye-opening literary adventure of the year."-- Entertainment Weekly
NAMED ONE OF THE BEST BOOKS OF THE YEAR BY The Washington Post * NPR * Real Simple
Holed up with other mothers-to-be in a secret maternity home in Los Angeles, Scarlett Chen is far from her native China, where she worked in a factory and fell in love with the married owner, Boss Yeung. Now she's carrying his baby. To ensure that his child--his first son--has every advantage, Boss Yeung has shipped Scarlett off to give birth on American soil. As Scarlett awaits the baby's arrival, she spars with her imperious housemates. The only one who fits in even less is Daisy, a spirited, pregnant teenager who is being kept apart from her American boyfriend.
Then a new sonogram of Scarlett's baby reveals the unexpected. Panicked, she goes on the run by hijacking a van--only to discover that she has a stowaway: Daisy, who intends to track down the father of her child. The two flee to San Francisco's bustling Chinatown, where Scarlett will join countless immigrants desperately trying to seize their piece of the American dream. What Scarlett doesn't know is that her baby's father is not far behind her.
A River of Stars is a vivid examination of home and belonging and a moving portrayal of a woman determined to build her own future.
Praise for A River of Stars
"Vanessa Hua's story spins with wild fervor, with charming protagonists fiercely motivated by maternal and survival instincts." -- USA Today
" A River of Stars is the best of all worlds: part buddy cop adventure, part coming-of-age story and part ode to female friendship." --NPR
"Hua's epic A River of Stars follows a pair of pregnant Chinese immigrant women--two of the more vibrant characters I've come across in a while--on the lam from Los Angeles to San Francisco's Chinatown." --R. O. Kwon, author of The Incendiaries , in Esquire
"A delightful novel of motherhood and Chinese immigration . . . Without wading into policy debates, Ms Hua dramatises the stories and contributions of immigrants who believe in grand ideals and strive to live up to them." -- The Economist
Author Notes
Vanessa Hua is a columnist for the San Francisco Chronicle and the author of a short story collection, Deceit and Other Possibilities . For two decades, she has been writing, in journalism and fiction, about Asia and the Asian diaspora. She has received a Rona Jaffe Foundation Writers' Award, the Asian/Pacific American Award for Literature, the San Francisco Foundation's James D. Phelan Award, and a Steinbeck Fellowship in Creative Writing, as well as honors from the Society of Professional Journalists and the Asian American Journalists Association. Her work has appeared in publications including The New York Times, The Atlantic, and The Washington Post . A River of Stars is Vanessa Hua's first novel.
Reviews (4)
Publisher's Weekly Review
In her skillful debut novel, Hua (Deceit and Other Possibilities: Stories), a San Francisco Chronicle columnist, introduces a strong heroine: fiercely independent Scarlett Chen. Scarlett, a factory clerk, fought her way to prosperity from the poverty of her native Chinese village and the clutches of her controlling mother. But when an affair with her married boss results in a pregnancy-and the ultrasound reveals the son he's always longed for-Boss Yeung sends Scarlett to Los Angeles to be cared for in a secret maternity home. Run by another clever woman, Mama Fang, the home caters to wealthy Chinese couples hoping to secure U.S. citizenship for their soon-to-be born children. It's there that Boss Yeung's true intentions (and his own considerable self-interest) are revealed. When Scarlett learns that the ultrasound was incorrect and she's in fact carrying a girl, she knows she must leave the home to save herself. Along with another young pregnant woman, she breaks free to scratch out an existence on the streets of San Francisco's Chinatown-a setup that is heartbreaking and, at turns, hilarious, as the two must remain undetected while they make their way across California. Hua wonderfully evokes the exigencies of lives at the margins of American culture by revealing Scarlett's enduring ingenuity as she navigates near-destitute single motherhood. (Aug.) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
Booklist Review
In Perfume Bay, a luxurious oasis just outside Los Angeles, pregnant Chinese women are pampered through the U.S. birth of precious progeny who will provide their parents with a foothold in America. Among the guests is factory-manager Scarlett Chen, sent to the U.S. to bear the son of her older, married lover, who's also her employer. As their long-distance relationship stagnates, Scarlett can't risk losing her unborn child to Boss Yeung. She manages to commandeer the residence's van for a late-night escape, then discovers a stowaway: Perfume Bay's youngest and most rebellious resident, Daisy, who still believes she can find her missing boyfriend. The unlikely pair flee to San Francisco's Chinatown, where accepting the kindness of strangers, clever bartering, peddling the Chinese slider, and catering a gay wedding keep them afloat until the inevitable confrontation converges at City Hall. San Francisco Chronicle columnist Hua follows her intriguing short story collection, Deceit and Other Possibilities (2016), with an astute debut novel that confronts identity, privilege, freedom, and a twenty-first-century rendering of the American dream with poignancy, insight, humor, and plenty of savvy charm.--Terry Hong Copyright 2018 Booklist
Kirkus Review
A pregnant Chinese woman goes on the run in America to escape her controlling ex.Scarlett never imagined she would find herself somewhere like Perfume Bay, a posh private accommodation for expectant Chinese mothers in Los Angeles. But when she gets pregnant with her boss's baby, and that baby turns out to be a boy, everything in her life changes in an instant. Boss Yeung will take no risks with the son he's always dreamed ofeven if that son is illegitimate. Scarlett, who is used to working in factories and fending for herself, is not prepared for life among the pampered women at Perfume Bay who have come to America to secure citizenship for their children. When she finds out that Boss Yeung wants to pay her to give her baby up to his legitimate family, she finally decides to take her life back into her own hands and escape the claustrophobic Perfume Bay. But she doesn't anticipate being accompanied by Daisy, a spunky and occasionally obnoxious teenager whose parents sent her away when she got pregnant with her beloved boyfriend's baby. The two women escape north to San Francisco's Chinatown neighborhood, where they scrounge together food and money for themselves and their newbornsall while Boss Yeung gets closer and closer to tracking Scarlett down. This debut novel from Hua, who has previously published a collection of short stories (Deceit and Other Possibilities, 2016), paints a vivid picture of Scarlett and Daisy's unromantic and occasionally squalid, but nevertheless vibrant, life in Chinatown. Scarlett's fear of being discovered by Boss Yeung never fully dissipates, but it is ultimately overtaken by her fear of being discovered by American authorities who could deport her, and her constant paranoia is palpable. Unfortunately, the novel never fully capitalizes on its strengths. Boss Yeung's narrative is tedious, and Scarlett's lacks momentum. And the novel's saccharine ending undercuts its atmospheric successes.A 21st-century immigrant story that, while intermittently intriguing, falls short of its potential. Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Library Journal Review
DEBUT This first novel from award-winning short story author Hua (Deceit and Possibilities) opens in California at Perfume Bay, a center hosting Chinese women for the purpose of birth tourism. The mistress of wealthy, older factory entrepreneur Boss Yeung, single, pregnant 36-year-old Scarlett Chen finds all going well until the facility is raided and she escapes with another patient, 17-year-old Daisy, stowed away in a van. What follows is an intriguing plot filled with twists and turns showing how the two women fare on the run with their limited visas, abetted by luck and ingenuity. Hua's characterization is strong and engaging and her writing highly descriptive, likely the result of her journalistic background. Yet while the story opens with a lot of promise, it becomes progressively less realistic as plotlines and characters wander off in various directions with results more akin to a comical screenplay. VERDICT Overall, an entertaining read best for those who don't mind overly tidy and farfetched fairy tale-like endings. [See Prepub Alert, 2/19/18.]-Shirley Quan, Orange Cty. P.L., Santa Ana, CA © Copyright 2018. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Excerpts
Excerpts
Chapter 1 When Boss Yeung first told her about Perfume Bay, she'd tossed the brochure onto the dashboard and reached for a slice of dried mango. Shaking his head, he took the bag, but before he could stop her, she snatched a slice of chewy sweetness. During her pregnancy, he'd begun scrutinizing her, prescribing advice--some backed by science but most by superstition--to protect the baby. She shouldn't eat mangoes, as their heat would give the baby bad skin; no watermelon, whose chill would cool her womb; no bananas, which would cause the baby to slip out early. No water chestnuts, mung beans, or bean sprouts, either. The list of traditional prohibitions grew each time she attempted to eat. As he drifted into the next lane, she told him to keep his eyes on the road. He gripped the steering wheel and told her his plan: he wanted to send her and their unborn child halfway around the world to Perfume Bay, five-star accommodations located outside of Los Angeles. After she delivered, staff would file for a Social Security card, birth certificate, and passport for the baby. Their son--his sex recently confirmed--would give them a foothold in America. "Eventually he could sponsor our green cards," Scarlett had responded. "For now, you'll get rid of me. Clever plan, Boss Yeung." At the factory, she called him Boss Yeung, and she kept it up in private, too, a reminder that she was a deputy manager, and not a xiaojie--a mistress, a gold digger from a disco or a hostess bar. They passed factories covered in grimy white tile, built on land that had been fields when she arrived here as a teenager. People from around the country had moved to the Pearl River Delta, just across the border from Hong Kong, to make their fortunes, and the factory girl you snubbed might someday become your manager. Boss Yeung reached into the glove box for a brand-new U.S. atlas that he must have hand-carried from Hong Kong. Hope unfurled in her chest. She always navigated on their weekend drives, and with this gift, she pictured them traveling across America together. "Whatever hospital you'd deliver in would be top-class," he said. "The hospitals are good in Hong Kong, too," she said. Unlike in China, the government wouldn't hassle her there for being an unwed mother, wouldn't fine her or force her to terminate her pregnancy. Women there could have as many children as they wanted. Boss Yeung frowned. Hong Kong was also home to his wife and three daughters. "It doesn't matter how good the hospitals are in America, if I end up in jail," she said. She had conceived even though Boss Yeung had pulled out, evidently not soon enough. For once, the method had failed them. Her periods had never been regular, and she'd been into her second trimester before realizing her nausea wasn't the stomach flu and her heartburn wasn't from the stress of trying to meet production goals. On the radio, a newscaster announced that the U.S. embassy was evacuating American tourists from Egypt. Boss Yeung stabbed his finger at the radio dial. "The U.S. would save our son." "From Egypt? Why would I--why would he go to Egypt?" "From anywhere. The U.S. would get him out of trouble anywhere." That was when Scarlett had realized just how much his son meant to Boss Yeung, reviving the dream that had died with the birth of his daughters: an heir to carry on his legacy. He had never shared this dream with her, for a boy in his image, a prince of the family. He was almost sixty, she was thirty-six. If Scarlett carried a girl, would Boss Yeung have sent her to Perfume Bay? No. He'd waited to book her stay until he knew she was having a boy, but objecting to such a preference would have been like objecting to gravity. He sped up, picking off tractor trailers and buses, which still gave her a thrill. Faster and faster they went, getting so far ahead it seemed they might have the road's end to themselves. With him behind the wheel, she might go anywhere. He put his hand on top of hers, lacing their fingers together, and she tucked her head against his shoulder. She never felt more complete than when nestled against him. If she didn't have this baby, she might never have one, not with Boss Yeung or with anyone else. On her own, Scarlett could have expected deference and attention. One pregnant woman gets a seat on the bus, the front of the line at the bathroom, and good wishes from strangers who pat your bump, ask how far along you are, and guess if you are carrying a boy or a girl. At the sight of a fertile belly, the most hardened can't help but hope for the future, can't help but long for their past. A dozen pregnant women are a different matter. You quarrel over who gets the most comfortable seat at dinner, who eats the last of the tofu stew, and whose aches are the most deserving of sympathy. Deep into her eighth month of pregnancy, she had thought the other guests at Perfume Bay would lose interest, but they wouldn't stop picking on her. Now she found herself squeezed into the corner of the couch by an equally round Lady Yu. Their feud had started over Scarlett's accommodations at Perfume Bay, where she had the most luxurious quarters. Lady Yu had demanded the room, which had a view of the foothills, a massage chair, and a marble Jacuzzi, but apparently, Boss Yeung had more guanxi here. On television, the Hollywood sign appeared, iconic letters that stood a few kilometers away yet seemed distant as the moon. After Scarlett turned up the volume, Lady Yu grabbed the remote and switched the channel. Because Scarlett never bragged about Boss Yeung's position, because she never mentioned him at all, the other guests found her suspect. She was a threat, not because she'd go after their husbands, but because she represented any woman, every woman who could. It didn't matter that her lover was a stranger to them. Mistresses weren't supposed to have children who competed with theirs. Lady Yu had made clear that she considered Scarlett and the baby she carried lowly as turtle's eggs. Nothing was more despicable than a turtle--dragging itself through the muck--except its spawn. A nurse arrived to drop prenatal vitamins into their mouths, their faces upturned to her like chicks getting fed. The pill tasted of iron and rotting leaves. Scarlett swallowed and gagged, felt the pill coming back up but chased it down with a few sips of lukewarm water. Her insides would roil all morning. She had arrived a few weeks ago, and at any given time at Perfume Bay--three white stucco townhomes converted into a compound by ripping out the adjoining walls--about a dozen guests from China and Hong Kong were pregnant, and another half-dozen or so were recovering. The babies slept in a former dining room where a crystal chandelier hung over the bassinets. Cartons of diapers, crates of formula, and sacks of wipes jammed the garages, and closets had been remodeled into bathrooms. Lady Yu led the Shanghai clique of spoiled wives, who were perhaps only a generation or two removed from the countryside. In Scarlett, they despised who they might have been. Scarlett changed the channel back. "Mei you wenhua," Lady Yu shouted. "Nong min." Low-class! A peasant! She hurled a magazine at Scarlett, missing wildly and hitting the television. "Tuhao," Scarlett said. An insult for the newly rich, with more money than manners. Stung by the insult, Lady Yu heaved herself up and slapped Scarlett. Scarlett rocked back in disbelief, putting up her hands to protect her belly. Her mother used to slap her, but no one else, not in decades. Lady Yu smiled smugly, the sort who beat her servants. Scarlett grabbed a pillow and smacked it against Lady Yu's head. When Lady Yu clawed at her, Scarlett grabbed her wrists and forced her arms down, twisting almost hard enough to sprain. Their screams set off one baby, then all ten babies in the nursery next door, howls that picked up with the speed and power of a tsunami. The owner, Mama Fang, rushed in, trailed by nurses, to separate the mothers-to-be, clucking that they shouldn't exert themselves, they should consider their babies, and sent them to their rooms. At Perfume Bay, the mothers were treated like children, so that their children would obtain the most precious gift of all: American citizenship. After Scarlett left China, she and Boss Yeung had grown apart, talking only every few days on video calls. Without proximity, without work in common, they discussed nothing but her pregnancy, and how irresponsible she was. Tonight, his bullfrog voice rumbled over the crackly Internet connection. "Have you eaten?" he asked. He sat in his office, his own lunch, a chipped plastic bowl of rice and soup from the factory cafeteria, untouched on his desk. She hesitated. If she told him she fell asleep and missed dinner, he would chide her for denying their son nutrition. Sequestered at Perfume Bay, she'd become a modern-day concubine, her existence reduced to a single purpose: to produce the heir. If she couldn't please him while pregnant, she never would as a mother. She'd lose any chance of a future together. Mama Fang had promised not to tell him about the catfight in her daily report, but would expect a favor in return. Boss Yeung adjusted the webcam. Scarlett turned her head to hide the bruise blooming on her cheek. She had been drawn to his intensity, that seriousness of purpose. He could be decisive to the point of brusqueness, a trait she had recognized in herself and had admired in him until he started turning on her. On the video call, his handsome face pixelated, breaking up, as though in a time-lapse film of decay. He was insisting on the name Yaoxi for their son, which meant "to shine on the West." "I'll call him what I want," Scarlett said. The baby's birthplace shouldn't define him. She wanted him free to go anywhere, to be anyone, and hadn't yet picked a name. Settling on one would define a life that still felt limitless. He thumped the desk, and the chopsticks clattered off the bowl. The screen locked up, freezing his expression into a snarl. Scarlett steeled herself. During her pregnancy, he had grown accustomed to giving her orders, and he wouldn't stop after she delivered, not unless she stood up to him now. When the video transmission resumed, Boss Yeung stared at Scarlett, and she quickly brought up her hand to cover the swelling and the inky bruise. "What happened?" he asked. "To your face." "Nothing." She dropped her hand, her cheeks hot. "The connection's bad." "You fell." She nodded. Better if he believed her clumsy rather than violent. "Selfish," he said. She understood. If she'd been more careful, if she'd been thinking about their son, she wouldn't have fallen. "I won't let you ruin him." With a hiss of disgust, he logged off. He wasn't the usual factory boss, paunchy and red-faced from too much drink, sunburned from golf, with a clutch of fawning concubines, one for every night of the week. With high cheekbones and deep-set, watchful eyes, he had the look of a Mongolian warlord. Scarlett curled onto her side, pinned down by her belly, feeling as though she might never rise again. She'd pictured herself someday with a settled life, with a husband--someone solid as Boss Yeung, if not him exactly--a home, and a family. Now someday had arrived with nothing except the baby. The pregnancy had come between them. She buried her face into the pillow. She couldn't escape Perfume Bay's bitter scent of herbs, which reminded her of her mother's foul medicinal brews. A lifetime ago, she'd stopped relying on Ma, and yet now she wanted her mother's fingers cool against her cheek, applying a poultice that would harden against her skin, crack off, and relieve the pain. Something scratched the walls of Perfume Bay, branches in the wind or a burrowing rodent that would gnaw at Scarlett in the dark. She had been dreaming of spies peering into her window, of cameras hidden in the overhead light, of an eye in the sky. After a hard kick from her xiao dou, her little bean, Scarlett gasped. Did Little Bean dream of what lay beyond the murk? More kicks pummeled her from the inside, and she pressed her hand against an unyielding elbow or knee. Back and forth they pushed until the baby squirmed away, and they both drifted off to sleep. The next morning, the nurses passed around the newborns just back from the hospital. For Scarlett, Perfume Bay had been a crash course in motherhood. She'd learned that while each newborn was much like the others, with a scrunched monkey face and oversized, lolling head topped by an identical blue-and-red striped knit hat, each little roly-poly body wrapped in an identical blue-and-red striped receiving blanket, she was still expected to exclaim superlatives for each one. The other guests gasped at the bruise on her cheek, which looked even worse today, and Countess Tien fussed over Lady Yu. Although Scarlett tried to appear unbowed and unapologetic, she seethed at herself for losing her temper. Diu lian, loss of face, shameful to fight with Lady Yu. Scarlett didn't say the courtly titles she'd given the other ladies out loud, but she could think of them no other way. Her secret taunt, for how they carried themselves like descendants of the royal line. With her bejeweled hands, Lady Yu cradled Countess Tien's baby. Her pinched features softened as she touched his nose. "What a noisy thing!" she said, careful not to attract the attention of jealous spirits with praise. She could soothe the fussiest infant, while Scarlett's own lack of interest in children seemed a personal failing. Excerpted from A River of Stars: A Novel by Vanessa Hua All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.