Susanne Lee:
CLASS OF 1976
Belmont High SchoolClass of 1976
Los angeles, CA
Susanne's Story
I have lived in Burgos, Hong Kong, Mt. Pleasant and New York. The Belmont counselor said I should attend community college. Not being good at listening to adults, especially ones who wanted to kill dreams, I went to UC Berkeley and Harvard instead. I worked as an international businessgirl in the World Trade Center, but I couldn't stop telling stories, which probably saved my life that September day.
Everyone, stay safe during these coronadaze. See ya in a better tomorrow.
My writing on subjects such as mixed race children, Tiananmen mother Ding Ziling, surrealism & sausage in Spain, mehndi in Delhi, basketball in Lhasa, the Reunification Express from Hanoi has appeared in the Village Voice, The Nation, Konch, Giant Robot & SLAM. Vol de Nuit appears in PowWow: Short Fiction from Then to Now, edited by Ishmael Reed & Carla Blank (DaCapo) and Chungking Masala was in the Guardian Openings Contest. Clomid Dreams appears in The Write Launch. The Sandy Diary of Susu Aisin Gioro is in the October Write Launch. Check out L'heure Bleu in Tin House & Food Fire Storm in Broken Pencil. Thanks for the read.
L'heure Bleu - excerpt
Kari loved a solitary walk on the beach, especially on an early Sunday morning; but her absolute favorite time was at dusk.
Dusk, that wonderfully tranquil time between night and day, when the fading light was exquisite and that blurred hazy line between rose an...Expand for more
d blue appeared in the sky.
The beach on Lamma was a refuge from Hong Kong, a pleasant mix of open space and outdoor joints serving up the freshest seafood and Kari’s current favorite, yu dan fun, fish balls with rice noodles. The view was unhampered by the neon skyline and the mass of humanity from the MTR, the minivans and the double-decker buses haphazardly spilling the masses onto Nathan Road.
Food Fire Storm - excerpt
Kari walked north from Julie’s apartment into crowded Mongkok, a working-class neighbourhood north of Tsimshatsui. It was a warm mild Tuesday afternoon. Kari turned onto Shanghai Road, a street lined with discount electronics stores, then an alley full of clothing stalls, before she reached her favourite open-air food stand. The daipaidong was run by a sixtyish bear of a fellow. Leung Sook, Uncle Leung, as all the regulars called him, dished up bowls of steaming wontons in a rich fishy broth. He wore his usual outfit, a pristine wife beater, khaki shorts, rubber sandals and a pale doughnut-shaped jade pendant on a silver chain from his neck.
Uncle Leung flashed the thumbs-up sign at her. “Good, hah?”
***
excerpt Sakura Kitten
I ain’t your sakura kitten, geisha doll, momo ho.
Pay attention boys
I’m from the house of Aisingioro
I write but, the powers that be didn’t give me a Stegner or a Pulitzer,
But don’t worry, I’m still pretty fair with my howitzer.
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