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"Growing up Chinese in Virginia,
was never sure whether she was Chinese or
American. Watching The Wizard of Oz on
television or riding around in her family's Ford
sedan made her feel American, yet when she
looked in the mirror or heard Caucasians
disparage her Asian appearance, she feared that
her identity was pilfered, like a hat or mask
she wore but would have to surrender to the
rightful owners. Her grandfather Yeh Yeh, an
eminent poet, philosopher, and theologian living
in Beijing, wrote to soothe her fears, urging
strength and calm in the face of prejudice. His
letters and poetry convinced Chao that the true
center of her life lay in China. Then she found
music. The rigors of training to become a
professional classical violinist distracted her
from her grandfather's repeated pleas and her
promises to visit him. When he ended his life at
ninety-two, crushed in body and spirit by the
Cultural Revolution, Chao feared that her ties
to China had died with him. All that remained
for her were her uncles and aunts who still
lived in the family house in Beijing. In 1987,
two years prior to the Tiananmen Square
uprising, Chao traveled to a China that seethed
in transformation. While Yeh Yeh's House is the
story of Chao's exploration of China, it is also
about her discovery that what she sought was
perhaps not to be found in China at all, but
much closer at hand, in the person of her aging
mother. Through this journey Chao begins to
truly understand the forces that formed the
woman who gave birth to her, and to finally
accept herself as both Chinese and American."
~from the Book Jacket.
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