top of page

One Book to Read. One Book to Keep

  • 3 hours ago
  • 2 min read


A few days ago, an old university classmate in Hong Kong received two copies of my novel, Nonimportantech, ordered through Amazon.


She sent me a photo and wrote:


"I bought two copies. One to read and annotate. One to keep. Besides… buying two meant free shipping."


That last sentence made me smile.


Even after more than thirty years, she still has the same wonderful mix of humor and practicality that I remember from university.


Back then, she was probably the most beautiful and one of the most outspoken students in our class.

When I was training for the university's 5,000-meter race, she sometimes ran a few laps with me—just to keep me company.


During a fieldwork trip in the university forest, she reached out her hand while walking down a steep trail. It was the first time I had ever held a young woman's hand.


She also taught me a few Russian songs.


After graduation, our lives took different directions.


We built different careers, different families, and different lives.


Today, I have two sons.


She has a daughter.


About ten years ago, I met her little girl. During our conversation, she shared something deeply personal. After losing her mother, she had struggled with grief for a long time. It was the birth of her daughter that slowly brought her back to life.


I have never forgotten that conversation.


Few readers know this, but the character Xiaoyu in Nonimportantech carries a small part of her light.

Not her biography.


Not her life.


Characters are never copies of real people.


They are woven from memories, encounters, conversations, and emotions that continue to evolve long after the moment has passed.


Yesterday, those two books finally reached her.


One will soon be filled with notes, comments, folded pages, and perhaps a few criticisms.


The other will remain untouched on a bookshelf.


And somehow, I realized that this may be another way of measuring time.

Not by calendars.


But by friendships that quietly survive decades—and one day return in the form of a book.

 
 
 

Comments


bottom of page