Liverpool's Chinese population in the first decade of the 20th century only amounted to a few hundred, but nonetheless constituted the biggest concentration of Chinese in the UK. Lee's grandfather was an educated man and used to help newly-arrived immigrants, representing runaway seamen, over-stayers and illegals in the courts. Every New Year he boiled himself a small duck, and he even made preparations to take his family on a return trip to China. This final chapter is the most interesting in the book. Its atmosphere is nonetheless bleak, evoking cold gray skies and a pinched existence in a slum area of town, with the ever-present fear of discrimination.
It all seems a far cry from Taiwan today, and is probably equally remote from modern-day Britain. All in all, this book makes sad reading. It presents a world of imperial arrogance and economic exploitation, resulting in racist stereotypes in the minds of the uneducated that helped them endure their own penury -- at least there were others they could look down on, if only by reason of their race. It's a relief, therefore, to be able to report that today Gregory Lee enjoys a prestigious life as a professor of Chinese at the University of Lyon, France. Would that all tales of migration, displacement and a perceived hybrid identity had such happy endings.
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