Spring Flower Book 1: 1931 – 1951 – A Tale of Two Rivers is the memoir of Dr. Jean Tren-Hwa Perkins, edited, compiled, and finalized by her son, Dr. Richard Perkins Hsung. The work is at once, obviously speaking, intensely personal, yet concocted with enough distance so it reads like a compellingly realized novel. The profundity of Dr. Perkins’ story is therefore that much more enriched and viscerally immediate. There’s never the sense of narrative slackness, rather you remain objectively riveted to her experiences from page one, in addition to sobered, inspired, and deeply moved. Dr. Perkins’ story begins with her birth during the Yangtze River Flood in 1931, as referenced in the title.
The memoir then traces her journey, when she was adopted by missionaries that led to a brief stint of living in the United States, before her becoming trapped as a national living under severe communist rule when Maoism swept China by storm. Her son, Dr. Hsung, does a remarkable job in terms of the compilation – providing an unblinking eye into the horrors of what followed, the damage done to generations of families, and how in the face of unimaginable hardship Perkins managed to become a successful doctor of ophthalmology. The profound ramifications and revelations such sacrifice and struggle provide reminds us to count our blessings, and not take our own, capricious sense of life’s licks too seriously. If Dr. Perkins, in the face of unimaginable horrors, could overcome and still hold fast to the hope of US citizenship, one in this country – depending on circumstances – can get through another day.
AMAZON: https://www.amazon.com/Spring-Flower-Book-Between-Shifting/dp/9888769715
“Where shall I begin a story that spans more than half a century? I’ve told my story to many people over the years, and quite a few have encouraged me to write it all down and publish it. Some say it’s a fairy tale and can be told to children. I’m not sure about that, but I did have a charmed childhood,” writes Dr. Perkins, at the beginning of the book. “A very long time ago, when I was a junior high student in Yonkers, New York, I fell in love with English literature and fancied becoming an author. But life had other plans for me. I’ve had plenty of time to contemplate where and how to begin the only book I’ll write, and still, it’s challenging. Everyone’s life is book-worthy, but not everyone sits down to write their story. What makes mine different from others? What warrants the agony of dredging up the past? What would make my story even slightly of interest to the modern reader?”
She adds, “Perhaps this is a common experience among first-time authors. I sat and sat and could barely get beyond lifting a pen or holding a pad. While my heart was racing with all I wanted to tell, my mind was in disarray. And that was on a productive day…A few Sunday runs later, I woke up disoriented, lying among archival boxes. As I wiped the moisture from my cheeks, I stared at the boxes, most of which were there because my mother had saved them. And then my cousin Evelyn and her daughters held onto them until I returned to America. Randomly thumbing through one of the boxes, I saw a folder with a chronology of my father’s life. Eureka! To begin talking about myself, I had to talk about others, especially those to whom I owed my life. The book of my life is really about these most beautiful human beings who gave me life, and those I have had the good fortune to encounter.”
Garth Thomas