Customer Reviews

The Last Days of Old Beijing: Life in the Vanishing Backstreets of a City Transformed

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About halfway through The Last Days of Old Beijing a question entered my mind. How long can Michael Meyer sustain a book which keeps repeating that Beijing's hutong are being torn down? The answer, to be frank, is 309 pages. I never tired of this one idea even though I expected my typical impatience to kick-in. This was a damn fine read.

So many ideas are floating through my head as I try to capture my reaction. Michael Meyer is a bit of a true believer. In some senses, this characterization portrays him as a romantic who has fallen in love with the hutong and its intangible cultural patterns and meanings. Yet, it also means he goes further than the rest of us, and that is something to be respected. How many times have I, or perhaps you, been to a museum or read the literature and dreamed of what it must have been like to experience life in another time or place? What empowers this book is that its author has done exactly what we only dream of. He moved to China, lived in a hutong, and made this experience all his own. The distance that allows us to safely consume the experiences of others is a divide that Mr Meyer has stepped over.

Consequently, this book is a portrait of what is to me another time and place, though it is present tense for our author. The portrait is a romantic one, his love of this place in every way seems genuine, and the sense of loss is compelling. Early in the book Mr. Meyer is cautioned by the police that living in a hutong is not safe, he stays and we are gradually introduced to a cast of characters such as the Widow, Recycler Wang, Miss Zhu, Soldier Liu, and Zhang Jinqi. Accounts of each are spread throughout the book, giving us yet another perspective on the hutong and reminding us that this special place in Beijing has no single meaning, as the Hand would have us believe.

The Hand is never seen or heard from, but its mark in well known. Overnight a character is drawn on the side of buildings scheduled to be demolished. Nobody knows who paints this symbol or how the decision is made. The Hand is not something you can speak to, as some folks might tell us in a movie or humorous commercial. Here the hand is power, authority, and decisive. The Hand is government. The residents learn they must move once this symbol appears, and they know there is nothing to be done. Hundreds of thousands of people have been subjected to this treatment.

And it is the Hand's action that destroys the hutong, and so much more. In other chapters we go through an extensive history of Beijing's history and development. We learn how a man-made mound protects the city center from negative energy coming down from the north and open roads allow positive energy from the South to radiate into Beijing unimpeded...or once did. We also learn about Chinese architectural history, a series of catastrophes and wartime acts that either built or destroyed portions of Beijing, and the various political leaders and groups at the center of these stories. Throughout it all, the hutong play an important role. In one sense, the Hand is no different as it tears at Beijing and reshapes the city into a modern marvel for the world to see at the 2008 Olympics.

But Michael Meyer does a wonderful job of not allowing the hutong to get lost in such broad strokes of history and distanced interpretation. He keeps our feet on the ground and shows the hutong are filled with fascinating people, a unique and rich culture, interesting foods, and more. Here I paraphrase, and the people themselves are quoted as saying we are merely poor, but we are not bad. We see that beautifully in Mr. Meyer's portrait.

"The Last Days of Old Beijing" is written by an American volunteer English teacher in an "old Town" Beijing elementary school. The area surrounding his rental room is being squeezed by encroaching redevelopment motivated both by profit and patriotism (putting on a good face for the Olympics). Public latrines take the place of indoor plumbing, central heating/cooling is non-existent, and the use of most appliances risks blowing a fuse and impacting many others. Many live in less than 100 square feet/person - less than the city minimum of 161 square feet.

Meyer speaks Chinese, and living among those directly affected is in an excellent position to relay their thought. His accounting is augmented by an interest in history, which he exercises through frequent library visits to learn the background of the individual streets and buildings in his area.

Not surprisingly, rebuilding is met with mixed reactions. The young generally are quite receptive - appreciating their indoor plumbing and central heat/AC (though often shoddy construction), while their elders, having spent decades in the same housing close to downtown, are not. The monies involved are substantial - for example, Mr. Zhang pays $2.26/month for rent (originally provided by his work unit), and is offered $32,000 to move - quite a lot, but not enough to buy a house downtown. Residents feel abused - graft reduces the amounts they are offered, and arbitration panels rarely rule in their favor. Those refusing to the end are liable to be physically removed by force, though changes in the law towards the end of the book provide hope for future holdouts.

Accounts of the schoolchildren taught by Mr. Meyer were the most interesting part of the book. Beijing students begin studying English (speak, read, write) in Grade One - three 45 minute sessions/week through Grade Six. Much of the instruction is automated, reducing the teacher's role to leading students through recitations, animated on a disc with the text. Teachers at the Coal Lane Elementary (pupils primarily from migrant labor parents) are paid less than the average Beijing average - at a level about equal that of a recycler. The teacher Mr. Meyer works with failed high school, and enrolled in a technical school to become an English teacher. One teacher handles grades one, two, four, and five.

Pupils stand for the national anthem each morning, and announce "Reporting" and bow upon entering the class. One student is responsible for collecting homework and reporting truants. Another leads a row of students through the outside morning exercises, reporting those not executing the deep knee bends and wrist twists. Still another supervised the cleaning of the classroom, another listened for foul language. Daily ten minutes of eye exercises said to improve vision were also pupil led, and he/she noted on the board the names of any laggards not massaging their eye sockets with enthusiasm. Class size is 25, and they have summer homework. English teachers are required to take an annual proficiency test.

I was also impressed with Beijing's goal of 35% of its citizens being competent in basic spoken English by the start of the Olympics, including 6,000 police. (Police were given a 200-page booklet on Olympic Security English).

Side Issues: Internet cafes may consist of 100 or so computers, renting for about a quarter/hour, and usually full. Entry to a modest bath house costs about $1.15.

Reading my way through translated Chinese literature, I've found that there's so much assumed knowledge that words flip by without leaving their mark. Meyer is the remedy to the problem. He's not a giddy traveler, pausing for a week or two, observing and moving on again. He stayed put, settled down, got a job, all in the backstreets of Old Beijing. He is soon accepted as a part of the community, not so much as a foreigner, but as a teacher. It's a patient, somewhat wistful book. Meyer isn't a romantic, he understands that for many, a working toilet and electricity will be welcome as they leave the old, winding streets behind. But he also conveys what will soon be lost, and more importantly, gives us a background to the vast rebuilding project that has uprooted more than a million Beijing citizens, producing the stories of his neighbors to give us a focused view. In the context of China in the 20th Century, the Olympic push seems more of a strange continuum from the Japanese Invasion, through the Great Leap Forward and into the 21st Century. Meyer writes well, but this is a rather beautiful dirge and like all dirges, you'll find that it relies on playing the same notes again and again. Still, a beautiful and timely book, at least for the summer of 2008 and a glimpse beyond the pomp of the Olympic welcome.

The Last Days of Old Beijing: Life in the Vanishing Backstreets of a City Transformed is like a New Yorker article that goes on forever, and I mean that in a good way. Michael Meyer's writing is engaging and personal. He skillfully interweaves characters, various settings, interviews, and lots of thorough research.

The book is tailor-made for those readers with an interest in city planning, the social aspects of design, or historic preservation, although anyone who has ever lived in a neighborhood will enjoy it, too. I highly recommend it.

Mr. Meyer's interesting and engaging book transports the reader into a time and place that few of us will ever get to experience, even if we visit Beijing and walk through the hutongs ourselves. Mr. Meyer captures the frantic pace of destruction and redevelopment and the variety of attitudes towards this changing landscape, and the costs associated with these changes - both physical and emotional.

If you are planning on spending any time in China or Beijing this book is a required read because it effectively captures the spirit of China today. There are any number of great books on China but most of them capture a different time in China's life and so are less effective in helping a prospective visitor or future resident of China prepare for their time there.

Michael Meyer has crafted an engaging, sometimes funny, sometimes sad account of his life in Beijing. The people, places and occurences draw you into everyday situations in Meyer's current life. The mix of historical references is just right for those without a semester of Chinese History 101 in their past. Having recently visited Beijing, the author compels me to check my bank balance for the funds to return and find his neighborhood. Read this book - you won't be disappointed.

Just south of Tiananmen Square, past the city's old front gate, the past is under siege. The buildings and lives that crammed together for centuries here, in the legendary, lively neighborhood of Dazhalan, have all but lost out to the old imperative to be modern. A drive that began with Mao, arose again in the 1990s under more capitalist pressures, and accelerated with the Olympics has demolished thousands of traditional courtyard homes and uprooted their residents. Taking their place will be upscale apartments and a pedestrian shopping mall where international brands will be fronted by ersatz Qing dynasty facades. The story of urban redevelopment may not be new, but in Mike Meyer's fantastic The Last Days of Old Beijing, it gains a valuable sheen that comes with intimacy and worldly perspective. His book isn't just an excellent, loving paean to a neighborhood imperiled by Beijing's Olympic-era makeover, but one of the best portraits of any city in the throes of modernization.

At home in the hutong, Meyer is able to chronicle its extinction like a preservational linguist might do with a dying tongue. His subject is not just the grammar of its architecture but the intonations of the personalities that live in it. The effortlessness of Meyer's snapshot belies his exhaustive collection of contemporary ephemera ("make a tremendous contribution to the 2008 Olympic Games" urges a relocation notice) and excavation of arcane historical details. In one of a smattering of history sections, we learn of the short-lived American occupation of the neighborhood after the Boxer rebellion, one defined, refreshingly, by such goodwill that locals begged the troops to stay. Another poignant chapter brings to life the architect Liang Sicheng, whose Cassandra-like visions of Beijing's transformation in the '50s and '60s haunt city planners today, and inspire writers like Meyer.

But it is the people, not the architecture, that is his account's greatest strength, and the hutong's most convincing argument for survival. In his unsentimental account, neighbors like The Widow, Soldier Liu and Recycler Wang come alive with a familiarity that doesn't sink into stereotype. At the local school where Meyer takes a volunteer teaching job, and as Olympic clocks count the seconds until the city's coming out party, small talk about weather or food gives way to the hutong's concerned refrain: "Do you know when our school will be demolished?"

[...]

Peter Hessler, the author of "River Town: Two Years on the Yangtze," describes Meyer as the emergent but leading authority writing in English on Beijing's architectural history and that he is. Meyer has crafted a piece of writing as masterful as much of the plan for the Old City. One does not need to be a student of architecture, however, to appreciate what he conveys, for with every foray into the past he returns to the present, fleshing out his neighbors in the hutong in Dazhalan where he lived for two years. The intercalary chapters, reminiscent of Steinbeck's "The Grapes of Wrath," serve a useful function, juxtaposing what was with what is, and what will be in the near future. His tone, although unsentimental by his own admission, is nonetheless genuinely concerned. He cares about these people: the Widow, recycler, the shop owner, the noodle-maker, the primary school teacher.

Having lived in Beijing on and off for more than a decade, and having a wife whose family used to reside in this neighborhood, I can vouch for its authenticity. Meyer is dead on the mark in his observations of contemporary hutong life, and in his grasp of the local politics that now threatens it. Not content to rely upon his own observations and research, he seeks out Chinese architects and cultural preservationists, including the noted writer Feng Jicai, whose efforts to protect an ancient street in Tianjin are as poignant as they are admirable.

Meyer's writing is the real deal. It is far more than a travelogue. So if you're interested in more than a tour guide tidbit of commentary, or the uninformed and therefore superficial reporting of most journalists who happen by these backstreets, then this book is for you. In reading it you will not only gain a deep appreciation for a vanishing way of life but set your hands on the pulse of a great city--one which can remain greater if only Dazhalan and other neighborhoods like it are spared and renovated rather than razed to secure fake culture and economic gain.

I applaud Meyer on his achievement; his tenacity and devotion to detail, in "sifting and winnowing," (as is inscribed on a plaque on Bascom Hill at the UW-Madison, our alma mater), and his display of what the Chinese refer to as "ren qing." Both the people who populate his narrative and the field of comparative ethnography are well served by his commitment to the subject of this book. It is bound to become a classic in the field.

It is a "what i did on my summer vacation and why i did it" kind of book. Chatty without being gossipy, informative and full of personal research into questions he saw as he lived there. Kind hearted and sympathetic to the people and culture he is surrounded by. really the best of this genre, giving us who would like to be there a real window into what it meant to him to live in a hutong in Beijing.

i envy him both his experiences and his ability to communicate them to us. this is his first book but i expect i will see his name on a few more volumes. i'll go looking for his blog when i finish this.

it is simply a must read book.
go get it. worth the price many times over.

This book is a non-fiction memoir, travelogue, and historical work about life in Beijing hutong. Hutong are narrow streets lined with old courtyard homes that are shared by many families and located in central Beijing. Written over the course of several years by an American ex-pat living and volunteering within a community slated for destruction, the book provides a compelling and comprehensive analysis of the current redevelopment situation in the city. The author's main premise is that the race to redevelop Central Beijing by government and private developers, the city is destroying the fabric of the traditional neighborhood and irreparably damaging the long-term growth of the economy and sustainability of the region. What is being lost is the community feeling, along with the basic functions of the neighborhood, in ways that will have impacts on Beijing, but also China as a whole.

Beijing's urban renewal program is not a new subject for Western accounts of Chinese growth, nor of Beijing's efforts to modernize the city. However, the author's storytelling approach and vibrant writing style are unique and provide a new perspective on the old debate. Unlike other accounts of the hutong destruction or reports of the city's extensive preparations for the Olympics, which focus on documenting the breadth of the destruction, this book zooms into the fate of one community to tell the story. The author provides personal anecdotes and stories from his time living and teaching in the Fresh Fish Junction area of Beijing to illustrate the impact of the demolitions on individuals. I highly recommend this book.