Bücher von Carrie Chang

"The Anorexic Maison," is a coup d'etat of verbal acrobatics, about the Great Habitué of Non-eating, a 21st libertarian circus of snide effects in which the glam gals confess why they take refuge in the Maison after years of being on the diet circuit. (Excerpt from the book) "There are many hypocritical women in this house but lovely women too," says Jenny, the matron of house who wants to eat its doors and shutters. There's a mea culpa attitude in her strange effusive voice, some willingness to concede it is the hour of compassion for all women, a place where they can eat their bingo under the roofs, and kick up their yin-yang heels. "I said Anorexic Mee-sawn, pardon my French, it's fucked, like mice in the house," said Jenny, who wolfs down her Guadeloupe homey Mexican bars by the dozen and shudders in her ocean blue jeans. She admitted the whole thing was about getting even, svelte and more svelte, by the way, until you continued to persist in this fashion, not eating for whatever reason that is wholly personal. "Asian girls don't eat," by the way, she adds, "You never know when it's sneaking up on you."

"Erstwhile Bubble Tea" is 100 percent pure moonshine, a literary topis of strange beliefs and occasional bliss, a humanitarian account of how the sunshine tribe triumphed over darkness and the little cities of the Bay Area celebrated their second shadow; while drinking tea becomes an erstwhile pleasure for the taking, the cool cat Asians of suburban California put to rights their value to conquer the vicissitudes of plainspoken time and outrageous happenstance; whether they are putting on airs, or exhibiting the sur le tat neuroses of a resurrected childhood on a summer's day, these characters lead a charmed existence, putting on a show not unlike "Juneteenth," and making a statement for their ethnic pageantry, and cosmic FOB existence on the planet.

This subconscious ploy into a humorous city enlivened by the diablo ghosts of another era is a soulful breather of incarnate words and post-modern identity; Emily Yew is a down-and-out Chinese American writer who is battling her Werther-like en situ in Funnyvale, where nothing is ever that funny. Propped up by her 80-year-old mother and her sister Audrey, Emily struggles with being "uncured," with dark, creative depressions, and revisited by romantic flashbacks from her primal youth. A heart-warming novel about meta-writing, that will make you ooh and ah.

This fine book of poetic verses is a lingua franca of zoo element and libertarian circus act, filled with ABC identity clauses that will knock your socks off, designed for leisure reading by bratty creaturinas who long to simper under the scintillating sun, and preach by the silver moon

Mulberry Myths is a poetic rouser of sixteen melodies, a razzamatazz of sino-images that are a token of this romantic movement of magical linguistic bravura, a modern symphony of eastern melody

In Carrie Changs winning fifth novel, The Quack, set in the beloved postcard city of Chinatown, San Francisco, the red planetary mists converge with hexagonal bagua wonder as old Chinese families convene with ghostly vexation, debating everything under the sun with sluggish pride and keen neo-religiosity. As the young protagonist, Isabelle Wu forsakes her dual-end journalism career to become a lollygagger in qui dunnit plaid. She finds that the Bohemian life has its innate possibilities and rewards, and she soon meets a quack who pleads with her in the mighty language of the occult, offering to cure her of the Chinatown blues with an off-color foot rub. This book is a must-read for anyone who has heard a frenzied ghost in the wall or experienced a Peking duck fascination. A Chinese fortune-cookie literary special that will make your eyes pop out and your hair turn righteous colors in the dark.