Today is a Monday. Today is thus useless. I read KSR's California Trilogy years ago. I've read some of his other work since then. Red Moon is a decent read, because it gives you an unabashed view of the PRC from an American Socialist. Here are my highlights. I didn't make many.
"But no matter where I go, I can never escape myself, the country no one can ever really know. In that sense travel is useless. Maybe we look to the next step in order to avoid seeing ourselves. Not narcissism, then, but an attempt to forget."
"He could feel in his facial muscles that the expressions on their faces were like those on his own face when he was feeling good about something. He only had to give in to it, to release his resistance to it, and those same expressions would be on his face—when he relaxed, or felt happy, or even right now—that was his look, right there before him to be seen. His cheeks burned with some strange mixture of shame and affinity. He was so often amazed or stunned, so often moved by simple things, obscure things. He was more like these musicians than he had ever been like the people in his own hometown. As he felt the truth of that he clutched Qi’s hand. He was a stranger in a strange land. With his free hand he wiped away tears falling unexpectedly from his eyes."
"she was attractive in a serious way, friendly but formidable—like a favorite teacher, or an aunt you wanted to please—and also wouldn’t want to cross. Just a tiny bit scary, yes; or maybe that was just the power she wielded."
"“Isn’t it just whateverism, like Hua?” “No. Hua meant we should just do whatever Mao might have wanted. That was whateverism. The two whatevers! Come on, Master, I’m better than that. I’m doing what we have to do to keep China from falling into chaos.”"
"Practice is the only criterion of truth, isn’t that another one of Deng’s sayings?”"
"Her soul was now a pattern of neurons in his brain, making a certain set of memories[.]"
"He was history; he was time; he was a buddha; he was his mother, looking back and down."