San mao biography
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However you found your way here, welcome! I’m Emily, and inom write letters about how we seek and tell stories to make sense of a changing world and our place in it.
Have you heard of Sanmao, the Taiwanese travel writer who inspired generations of young women in the Chinese-speaking world?
She was born some eighty years ago today, in , and on this occasion, for your Sunday reading, I’m republishing here an essay I wrote for The Mekong Review of her collection, Stories of the Sahara, which was translated into English for the first time in by Mike Fu—whom I also did a Q&A with (we had an interesting conversation about the line between fact/fiction and also his experience navigating thorny issues of identity). It’s also an opportune moment to remind ourselves of the forgotten war in Western Sahara that has persisted for over six decades, as new tensions surge.
I only really came to Sanmao when the Spanish translation of this book was published a few years ago. (I think m
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Sanmao (writer)
Taiwanese novelist, translator and writer
Sanmao (Chinese: 三毛; pinyin: Sānmáo) was the pen name of Echo Chen Ping (born Chen Mao-ping; 26 March &#; 4 January ), a Taiwanese writer and translator. Her works range from autobiographical writing, travel writing and reflective novels, to translations of Spanish-language comic strips. She studied philosophy and taught German before becoming a career writer. Her pen name was adopted from the main character of Zhang Leping's most famous work, Sanmao.[1] In English, she was also known as Echo or Echo Chan, the first name she used in Latin script, after the eponymous Greek nymph. Since childhood, she was said to have avoided writing the character "Mao" (懋) as it was too complex; later in life, she legally changed her name to Chen Ping.
Early life
[edit]She was born Chen Mao-ping in Chongqing to Chen Siqing, a lawyer, and Miao Jinlan.[2][3] She had an older sister
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Forever Sanmao: Tracing the Legendary Writer’s Life in Gran Canaria
The thick blanket of cloud swiftly dissipates as we cruise down south from the city of Las Palmas. “It’s the trade wind.” Valentín Gonzalez, who works at the Gran Canaria Tourism Board, turns back from the front seat of the van to explain to me the peculiarities of the weather of the island, promising me even gustier air when we reach our destination, Telde.
Even though Las Palmas has numerous Chinese-owned businesses, the much smaller town of Telde occupies a larger role in Chinese people’s imagination. In a quiet corner of the town lies a mural of a woman, her dark hair and white robe caressed by the wind, her gaze cast towards the ocean as blue as the wall behind her. This is the legendary writer Sanmao, who lived in the Canary Islands for several years during her 30s in the late s.
Sanmao was like a gust of wind—a female writer who traveled and lived around the world and captivated a still relatively close