My Mao, on His Hundred-and-Twentieth Birthday
In 1991, fifteen years after Mao Zedong’s death, I met the Great Helmsman for the first time. It was not the most dignified of encounters. At the time, I knew his face better than that of my own father, who had moved to the other side of the world, to a place called Boston, when I was two.
Continue Reading http://www.newyorker.com
Join the Discussion