"The Foreigner" by Francie Lin

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The Foreigner
by Francie Lin
320 pp. Picador. $14.00

Reviewed by Paul Stotts

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“But instead I heard a flat voice issuing a strange, fragmentary bulletin.
‘My mother is dead,’ it said. ‘My mother is dead.’”—Emerson Chang, “The Foreigner”

Death separates. It cleaves a vast chasm between living and dead in a person’s identity in a single moment. In the human experience, death is the ultimate dislocation: a dislocation from a living existence. However, this dislocation is not exclusive to the person who dies. Those people that the individual deeply touched are left behind, left alone, and left only with loss and fragments. Their existence now revolves around how to deal with the loss; the loss of that which was a piece of their self-identity. For we are constituted by others as much as by our sense of self. When something is lost, it is normal to see what remains. And what remains are usually shattered fragments of us.

“The Foreigner” by Francie Lin tackles this idea of dislocation and loss, and what it means to feel apart from everything, not only a stranger to others but also a stranger to oneself. Furthermore, Lin explores how family may offer salvation in our quest to reunite or reconstitute ourselves. Is family the buoy which will help us float? At its heart, “The Foreigner” is an existential novel posing as a mild thriller. The existential questions it poses are more intriguing than the predictable nature of the story.

Emerson Chang is a forty year old bachelor working as a financial analyst in San Francisco. He lives a simple, comfortable and regimented life, spending Sunday dinner with his mother, a Taiwanese immigrant who owns a cheap motel. Emerson conscientiously has played the dutiful son all his life, sacrificing his happiness for his mother’s ideals. These ideals have kept Emerson a virgin, since he’s been unable to find the “right” Chinese girl yet.

When his mother suddenly dies, Emerson discovers that her motel, which was his childhood home, has been left to his younger brother, Little P.. But Little P. has been entirely absent from their lives, having left for Taiwan ten years earlier and being estranged from them since then. Emerson feels betrayed, denied his rightful inheritance for being the good son. On learning that his mother stipulated in her will that her ashes be returned to Taiwan, Emerson volunteers to chaperone his mother’s remains, sensing an opportunity to contact Little P. and convince him to sell the motel to Emerson.

Finally arriving in Taiwan, Emerson discovers Little P. deeply involved with the criminal underworld as his younger brother is carrying out mysterious dealings for their uncle. Feeling an obligation to save his brother from a dishonorable lifestyle, Emerson struggles to convince Little P. to come back home with him, but Little P., who has his own money troubles, is looking only to sell the motel and stay in Taiwan. Emerson is completely dumbfounded why his brother wishes to stay. Needing more time to change Little P.’s mind, Emerson decides to stay until he can uncover the truth about Little P.’s desire to remain in Taiwan. But as Emerson continues to uncover more secrets about his brother and his work, he realizes he may be the only salvation his brother has left and that Little P. may be the only thing Emerson has left to lose.

Lin paints a remarkable setting in the novel, a lovingly detailed portrait that casts an astute light into the movements of Taiwanese culture and life. The political and cultural dislocation suffered by Taiwan from China is mirrored in the existential plights of both Emerson and Little P. They are foreigners not only in the literal sense, but also in the existential sense too. The question for them is—what happens when everyday you feel like an outsider, even from your own life? Both have been changed dramatically by pivotal events in their lives, after which they both find themselves adrift, searching to re-establish connection. But is connection once again possible?

For an internally focused novel, the pacing is brisk with Lin keeping the action steadily moving. The ending feels slightly rushed and disjointed, almost surreal in its execution, making the novel feel anticlimactic. Unfortunately, the ending doesn’t maintain the level of quality seen in the rest of the novel. It’s like Lin struggled finishing the story, before finally tacking on a pedestrian conclusion. Still, Lin displays great promise in “The Foreigner”, showcasing a bright talent whose best work is still to come.

Last Word:
A deeply affecting and profound intellectual journey, “The Foreigner” succeeds more as a novel dealing with existential questions than as a thriller. Beautifully written with an artist’s eye and excellent for its immersion in Taiwanese culture, “The Foreigner” is a fine novel by a young writer who promises better things in the future. Francie Lin is an emerging talent and one to watch.

Final Grade: 78 out of 100