100 books like The Red Wind Howls

I’ve read a bunch of English-language memoirs written by Tibetans living in exile. My Tibetan Childhood is different. Originally written in Tibetan and published by an underground press in China, Naktsang Nulo’s remarkable memoir of growing up in the grasslands of Amdo during the 1950s is meant to preserve for younger generations of Tibetans the traumatic story of their homeland’s incorporation into the Chinese state. 

The first half offers a nostalgic but unflinching portrayal of life before the coming of the Chinese. Unlike much of the exile literature, this is not an idealized Tibet but one filled with violence and injustice as well as community and faith. The second half describes in harrowing detail the events of 1958 when Nakstang’s chiefdom was destroyed, his father shot and killed, and he and his brother were left to survive prison camps and then horrific famine. All told through the eyes of a… show more.

Get this book first for the extraordinary collection of 300 black-and-white photographs of the Cultural Revolution in Lhasa, which is also one of the largest troves of Cultural Revolution-era photographs from anywhere in China. The remarkable photos, which depict the destruction of temples, the humiliation of lamas and members of the old nobility, and more, were taken by Tsering Dorje, a Tibetan officer in the People’s Liberation Army. 

Then read the accompanying essays and interviews by Tsering Dorje’s daughter, the prominent Tibetan poet, writer, and public intellectual Tsering Woeser, which not only chronicle the events of the Cultural Revolution but meditate on Tibetan participation in the assaults on Tibet’s cultural heritage and, like the two books above, serve as powerful reminders of the ways communal memory continues to hamper state efforts to fully integrate Tibetans and other non-Han communities into the Chinese nation.

This is Robert Barnett’s beautifully written, highly imaginative rumination on the city that for centuries has served as the spiritual, political, and historical center of the Tibetan-Buddhist world. Lhasa, however, has also been an object—sometimes obsession—of generations of outsiders seeking adventure, trade, or enlightenment. 

In recent years, Lhasa has been transformed into a Chinese provincial capital, replete with wide avenues, hair salons of questionable reputation, and the white-tiled, blue-tinted-windowed buildings that have become ubiquitous across China’s ‘second and third-tier’ cities. 

Barnett, a journalist-turned-scholar of modern Tibet, both juxtaposes and layers all of these Lhasas—along with his own memories of a city he first visited in 1987 and which is now under threat from the relentless pressures of state-capitalist development and Han Chinese settlement.

In this book, Emily Yeh has managed to do one of the hardest things in academic writing. She has produced an erudite, creative, and deeply researched study of contemporary Tibet that is also eminently readable, even for a general audience.

Yeh demonstrates ways that “development” in Tibet, pitched by the state as avenues to better the material lives of Tibetans—for example, through infrastructure projects and the expansion of markets and education—often serves to increase state control while further disempowering Tibetans.

This helps explain why in 2008—in spite of rising economic indicators—demonstrations broke out across the Tibetan plateau and why, in years since, more than 160 Tibetans have self-immolated in protest against the Chinese state.

I must have read dozens of books on China but Colin Thubron’s elegiac account comfortably takes the crown. Behind the Wall captures a unique moment in China’s history when foreigners were first allowed to travel around the country but the nation was yet to be influenced by the outside world. Having learnt to speak Mandarin in advance of travelling, the author probes deep into the rural areas and distant desert outposts of a closed communist empire still recovering from the ravages of the Cultural Revolution.

Demick is a master at showcasing the true drama of ordinary people living ordinary lives. In this saga of Tibetan royalty, resistance, and renaissance, she knits these personal stories into a sweeping epic covering the last 60 years of Tibetan history. The characters may at first glance seem innocuous: a long-lost daughter; a shopkeeper; a monk. But together, their stories paint a frightening and vivid picture of the everyday repression and fear under the largest and most sophisticated authoritarian regime on the planet. Throughout, Demick’s narrative displays a profound sense of place, plopping the reader onto the frigid Tibetan plateau, making us feel present to the resistance movement on the rooftop of the world. 

Perspectives on one of the most bewildering and turbulent periods in modern Chinese history – the Great Proletariat Cultural Revolution, in the decade from 1966, by one of contemporary China’s foremost historians. Yang, who has worked on the era of the great famines in China prior to this, is well served by two excellent translators. A book that brings the vastness of this revolution down to the stories of specific people and places, including those who were most involved in creating and directing this seminal event.

This strange novel consists of vignettes presented as encyclopedia-style entries written by the narrator. He’s an “educated youth” relocated to the fictional rural Hunan village of Maqiao as part of the Cultural Revolution “learn from the peasants” movement, reminiscent of Han Shaogong’s own experience of being sent to the countryside. First published in 1996 and in English in 2003 (expertly translated by Julia Lovell), the novel is better than the premise suggests, and it often features in “best of” Chinese literature lists.

This instant classic was the first to draw deeply on a wide range of previously inaccessible sources about the Cultural Revolution of 1966 to 1976. Highly readable and authoritative, it provides extensive insight into Mao’s actions and those of his subordinates and victims and documents the destructive impact of these conflicts all across China from the initial salvos at Peking University in May 1966 to the immediate aftermath of Mao’s death, which led to the arrest of Mao’s most ardent radical followers, the “Gang of Four”.

The godmother – the empress dowager, if you will – of all naughty Chinese authoresses is the inimitable Anchee Min. Her debut memoir, Red Azalea, was published half-a-decade before Shanghai Baby, and takes place half-a-century prior, at the outset of the Cultural Revolution. The first half of her story is set in a countryside labor camp, where teenaged Min and another young woman carry out a secret affair, with regrettable consequences. The second half of Min’s memoir finds her returning to her native Shanghai, now as the star of a movie production about Madam Mao, while carrying out yet another forbidden relationship, with one of Mao’s advisers. Min published seven subsequent books, all to critical acclaim, but Red Azalea is her at her most fearless.