As a non-fiction publisher at the Hong Kong Book Fair, I attended the book pitch of the wizened Chinese farmer, Lu Chien. He looked seventy-five and still wore his old Mao suit.
The title of his book flashed on the screen of the meeting room. The small crowd went crazy, throwing pencils, note-pads, and tchotchkes at the author. I joined in, flinging my book fair freebies.
It’s the old guy’s fault. That theory of growing super-large grain plants between two peasants’ shacks was questioned when it was first put forward. Today, no-one believes “Two Cisterns, One Corn Tree” anymore.
The title of his book flashed on the screen of the meeting room. The small crowd went crazy, throwing pencils, note-pads, and tchotchkes at the author. I joined in, flinging my book fair freebies.
It’s the old guy’s fault. That theory of growing super-large grain plants between two peasants’ shacks was questioned when it was first put forward. Today, no-one believes “Two Cisterns, One Corn Tree” anymore.
