An Ode to Peter Hessler: My Favorite China Writer

I first became serious about moving to China shortly after college. I was living in DC, working an entry level job at an international development NGO in Silver Spring, Maryland. I began reading books about the country during my subway commutes. My favorite book that I read during this period was River Town by Peter Hessler, which helped spark my interest and excitement about making the move, with its vivid descriptions of the people and landscapes of Fuling, the small Sichuanese city where Hessler had taught English as a Peace Corp volunteer in the mid-90s. I immediately became a dedicated fan of his articles on China in the New Yorker, with their blend of wry humor, insight and humanity.

When I moved to Chengdu as an English teacher in 2007, I learned that I was far from the only fan of Hessler's writing. I discovered that for many of us, River Town was a seminal text, our generational call to adventure in an intriguing country, rapidly transforming while retaining its uniqueness. My friends and I would reference Hessler constantly, speculating on how good his Mandarin is compared to Dashan, a tall white guy from Canada who is famous in China for his fluent Mandarin and performing xiangsheng (traditional comedic theater).

Hessler shaped my conception of who I was and could be. I yearned to follow in his footsteps, wandering grimy streets and eating cheap noodles in alleyways with the locals, then writing beautiful, erudite essays which enlightened the masses and improved understanding between China and the rest of the world. He is an intellectual who wears his elite education lightly, appearing  more at home talking to the common man than some high ranking politician or business executive. Moreover, as far as white guy experts on China go, he strikes an expert balance between demonstrating his deep appreciation and fondness for the country with a measured critique of its flaws. He will reference bad ‘Chinglish’ or other opportunities for easy laughs. But such moments are always outweighed by the deep empathy and understanding he offers toward  the various Chinese individuals he writes about.

Although I didn’t end up achieving my original dream—to become the New Yorker’s China correspondent and write deep, insightful articles and books that helped explain the country—Hessler’s books have inspired me throughout my life. I read Oracle Bones, his second book, which he wrote while based in Beijing, in between teaching classes at elementary and middle schools in Chengdu. I recall my giddy excitement when a friend lent me Hessler’s third book, Country Driving, shortly after it was published in 2010. I had moved to Beijing the year prior, and had begun writing the nightlife column for the Beijing City Weekend, a weekly expat rag.  That was as close as I would get to emulating Hessler though, and I ended up spending most of my time writing grant proposals for the Chinese branch of Junior Achievement, an American education NGO. 

Not long afterward, in early 2011, I giddily rode my electric scooter from my office in Dongsishitiao to the Beijing Bookworm in Sanlitun to see Hessler speak during the bookstore’s annual literary festival. It felt special, being in that room full of fellow Hessler acolytes, as he read from his new book and addressed our questions. Xi Jinping had not yet come to power, and China’s relations with the West were still relatively warm. It was a period of widespread optimism and increased integration, and. Beijing was an intoxicating playground for ambitious 20-something westerners. All around me, my fellow 20-something Westerner friends were doing Fulbrights or study abroad semesters, working their way into elite institutions, even starting companies or art galleries, many with Hessler-shaped dreams. Most of our Chinese friends had studied or spent time in the West, and we were increasingly fluent in one another’s language and culture. Driving past the gleaming skyscrapers of Guomao en route to Sanlitun for a night out, I felt like I was at the center of a promising new 21st century.

By comparison, Durham, tucked away in North Carolina, felt so small and remote. I had returned to the United States to pursue a more practical career via an MBA at Duke University. By that time, Hessler had moved to Cairo, and while I missed his China insights, it was exciting to read along as he found his footing covering a radically different culture. However, perhaps because I’m a Sinophile and not an Egyptophile, his writing on Egypt never captured my imagination quite the same way. Which is why I was so excited to learn in 2020 that Hessler had returned not only to China, but to my beloved Chengdu. Even better, he was teaching at Sichuan University, the same place that I had studied Mandarin back in 2009. Indeed, I learned of his latest book, Other Rivers, at a live recording of Kaiser Kuo’s Sinica podcast with Hessler at Duke, where I got him to sign a book for my father, a dedicated Chinese nationalist.

I read Other Rivers in the moments while my toddler slept, enjoying Hessler’s familiar mix of humor, insight and empathy. I’m now at a very different stage of life than when I first read River Town, my China expat dreams long since faded. The book brought me back to my time in Chengdu, when life felt hopeful, exciting and unwritten. Reading about his students’ lives–both past and more recent–made me wonder how the various Chinese friends I made are doing now. The hardening of China-Western relations and increased tensions is disheartening, but I was recently gladdened to hear that young Chinese and Americans were having some more open dialogue on the Xiaohongshu app after the recent US TikTok ban. I hope Hessler will return to China in the future, perhaps when the political climate has improved, to continue enlightening us about this fascinating, compelling country.