Skip to main content

Book review :How Does One Dress to Buy Dragonfruit:True Stories of Expat Women edited by Shannon Young

According to there are 71, 493 Americans living in mainland China today.  The first
rule of thumb for expats do not drive.  Car accidents are the leading cause of death for people ages
15-39.  In a country where taking a cab is preferable why do so many want to live here.Why are so many willing to leave everything that they know and love to relocate here.

    By reading How Does One Dress to Buy Dragonfruit: True Stories of Expat Women In Asia
I began to catch glimpsesas to the why. What is an expat(expatriate)? By definition it means to withdraw oneself from residence in or allegiance to one's native country.  Here in our story we find an unusual Kalediscope of women  living  in Asia for reasons as diverse as the women themselves.

     Some were seeking adventure, for another identity -a sense of belonging ,and quite a few found
love.  I really enjoyed reading this book.  Each author brought their unique ,passionate, and colorful style to their stories.  I really had a tough time choosing one essay as my favorite they really were very strong poignant and vey well told.  I would recommend this collections of essays if you were looking for something beyond a tourist guide through Asia.  I gave it 5 out of 5 stars.



Popular posts from this blog

Poem: In Texas Grass by Quincy Troupe

All along the rail
                                road tracks of texas
                               old train cars lay
                               rusted &overturned
                              like new african governments
                             long forgotten by the people
                              who built & rode them
                                till they couldn't run no more,
                              they remind me of old race horses
                             who've been put out to pasture
                            amongst the weeds
                            rain sleet &snow
                            till they die,rot away
                            like photos fading
                           in grandma's picture book,
                         of old black men in mississippi/texas
                         who sit on dilapidated porches,
                        that fall away
                       like dead man'…

The Speed of Belief by Tracy K Smith (poem)

I didn't want to wait on my knees
In a room made quiet by waiting. A room where we'd listen for the rise
Of breath, the burble in his throat. I didn't want the orchids or the trays
Of food meant to fortify that silence, Or to pray for him to stay or to go then
Finally toward that ecstatic light I didn't want to believe
What we believe in those rooms: That we are blessed, letting go,
Letting someone, anyone, Drag open the drapes and heave us Bak into our blinding, bright lives When your own sweet father died You woke before first light And ate half a plate of eggs and grits, And Drank a glass of milk. After  you'd left, I sat in your place And finished  the toast bits with jam And the cold eggs, the thick bacon Flanged in fat , savoring the taste. Then I slept, too young to know how narrow And grave the road before you seemed--- All the houses zipped tight , the night's Few clouds muddy as cold coffee. You stayed gone a week, and who were we Without your clean p…

The Life I led by Nikki Giovanni (poem)

i know my upper arms will grow
flabby it's true
of all the women in my family
i know that the purple views
like dead fish in Seine
will dot my legs one day
and my hands will wither while
my hair turns grayish white I know that
one day my teeth will move when
my lips smile
and a flutter of hair will appear
below my nose I hope
my skin doesn't change to those blotchy

i want my menses to be undifficult
i'd  very much prefer staying firm and slim
to grow old like a vintage wine fermenting
in old wooden vats with style
i'd like to be exquisite  I think

i will look forward to grandchildren
and my flowers  all my knickknacks in their places
and that quiet of the bombs not falling on Cambodia
settling  over my sagging breasts

i hope my shoulder finds a head that needs nestling
and my feet find a footstool after a good soaking
with Epsom salts

i hope I die
by the life I tried
to live