Uprootedthenovel

Tung was a small, grey-haired man sitting in the corner of his living room. Between us a squall of children, grandchildren and extended members of his large family cooked, bantered and played. His round face was impassive but serene. A benevolent moon in a cloud-cluttered sky. To my foreign mind it was a distant and unreadable exterior. In meeting his family for the first time, I had brought my own baggage from the UK. Anxiety for the international, inter-generational grillin