‘I’m sorry.’
‘Not your fault.’
I’m not so sure about that. It seems like my fault, somehow.
‘Where are you?’ I ask. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I’m in a good place. Safe. But you?’
‘I’m good.’
‘I hear you had problems.’
I hesitate. ‘A few. But I’m okay now.’
Our avatars stare at each other across a white table heaped with virtual dumplings and beer.
‘I thought I was helping you,’ he says. ‘I thought you need something to do. I did not think you would have trouble with your own people. I hope you can forgive me.’
‘They’re not my people,’ I type, before I can really think about it.
But that’s not really true. I brought them to Mati Village, didn’t I? Like I was carrying some disease.
That’s what it feels like, anyway.
‘There’s things I never told you,’ I say. ‘Things I did before.’
The words appear over his head: ‘Not important. I know what you do now.’
I think about it. Had I balanced things, somehow? Was it enough?
Maybe it never is. What’s done is done, and I can’t take it back.
But maybe that’s not the point.
‘You’re right,’ I type. ‘I needed something to do.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I’m sure.’
‘I think it’s time to end the Game,’ Lao Zhang says. ‘To start something new.’
He stands up. ‘Do you want to see?’
‘Yes,’ I say.
I follow him outside. ‘I want to build a lot more,’ he explains. ‘Now I work on this house.’
We walk up a winding path that roughly follows the edge of a cliff, overlooking the ocean.
A sleeping Chairman Mao with the proportions of a baby drifts by on a pillow of clouds.
Here’s the house, against a backdrop of twisted pines.
It looks more Japanese than Chinese, with a wood deck that wraps all the way around, huge open windows, rounded gray stones.
Here’s the dog from the beach, a big dog with three legs. It barks, then halts, wagging its tail, pink tongue hanging out of its mouth.
A small orange cat sleeps curled up on the stoop. As we approach, it stands, stretches, and sits on its haunches. I hear faint purring as we cross the threshold.
I still have the portrait Lao Zhang did of me. Harrison wants to buy it, but I’m not sure I want to sell. It’s not mine, of course, but it’s me. The painting sits, safely wrapped, in the small bedroom closet of my apartment. I haven’t figured out where to hang it. My apartment is small, and I don’t have a lot of wall space.
Here, in Lao Zhang’s world, the living room is big and empty, filled with light. The beams are polished, dark wood, so finely rendered that you can see the knots and whorls of grain.
‘I need to make some furniture still,’ he says. ‘And make more rooms.’
‘It’s beautiful,’ I type.
But it isn’t real.
‘I guess you can’t come back to Beijing,’ I say.
‘Not right now. But the situation will change. It always does.’
I can’t nod, seeing as how I’m just an avatar. ‘I understand,’ I type.
‘I invite more people here in the future,’ Lao Zhang says. ‘Build more houses. Create a place for all of us. But this one house is for you. Come back any time. I will be here.’
It’s not what I want. Not what I’d choose. But if we can talk, if we can connect, that means something, right?
Maybe it’s real enough, for now.
I sit in my cozy Beijing apartment, listening to the rain pounding on the balcony, the fresh ozone scent drifting in through the window I have cracked open, staring at a computer screen, at the view of a virtual house overlooking a virtual sea, my good friend standing next to me.
‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘I’d like that.’
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
To everyone at Soho Press, with particular thanks to Laura Hruska and to Katie Herman, whose attention to both the big picture and the tiniest details blows me away.
To my parents, Carol, Bill, Ray, and Gayle, and my family, with a special shout-out to my mom, Carol, whose research assistance was invaluable.
To my friends for putting up with my craziness, especially beta readers Billy Brackenridge, Nikki Corda, Christy Gerhart, and Jenny Brown; Pilar Perez, Anna Chi, Kathleen Cairns, and Ebbins Harris for their all-around support, Jim Bickhart for the margaritas, and Mimi Freedman and Jon Hofferman for Buffy nights.
My China buddies, in particular Richard Burger, Fuzhen Si, and Shanghai Slim.
The Writing Wombats, whose camaraderie and humor have brightened my days for over two years now. I must mention Ken Coffman, Sherrie Super, Judi Fennell, Pat Shaw, Beth Hill, Jamie Chapman, and Dale Cozort in particular, for their very concrete help and encouragement.
T. Jefferson Parker, who taught me something about the first fifty pages.
Kerrin Hands, for making the book look great, Anne Fishbein, for making me look good, and Ryan McLaughlin for the awesome website.
The Lurking Novelists, who have been with me every step of the way – Dana Fredsti, Bryn Greenwood, Elizabeth Loupas, Maire Donivan, Maureen Zogg, and our newbie, Heather. You guys are beyond awesome. I can’t wait to see every one of you in print.
And finally, Nathan Bransford, whose hard work, editorial eye, patience and constant good cheer made this debut possible. It would not have happened without you.
About the Author
Lisa Brackman has worked as an executive at a major motion picture studio, an issues researcher in a presidential campaign, and as the singer-songwriter & bassist in an LA rock band. She’s lived and travelled extensively in China. Brackman is a southern California native and lives in Venice, CA. Year of the Tiger is her first novel.
Praise for Year of the Tiger:
‘Lisa Brackman’s novel gets off to a fast start and never lets up … Ellie is a perfect spunky heroine … Be prepared for a wild ride’
New York Times Book Review
‘Takes you deep into the dangerous, complicated heart of modern China, with a tough and appealing heroine’
Jeff Abbott, author of Fear
‘An electrifying debut … The China scenes are fast paced and strikingly atmospheric, and Ellie’s backstory is tough, sad, and endearing … The book’s exotic setting and tough heroine will definitely appeal to fans of John Burdett and Stieg Larsson’
Publisher’s Weekly, Starred Review
‘A splendid debut novel by a gifted new writer. Her Chinese setting is exotic and chilling, and the characters live and breathe. The story is smart and fast as a sports car. Keep an eye on Brackman’
Jefferson Parker, author of Black Water
‘A timely and hip debut novel is a thriller with a plucky heroine … Brackman sure can write’
Boston Globe
‘A remarkable debut’
Seattle Times
‘A highly original expat thriller. It’s a wild ride – but don’t turn the pages too fast. Brackman’s evocation of China, funny, frustrating, frightening, sometimes tender, and always real, is worth savoring’
Nicole Mones, author of Lost in Translation and The Last Chinese Chief
‘A gripping ex-pat nightmare that unfolds with superb pacing and salient details. And it makes you damned glad your life is boring’
Miami Herald
‘A terrifying odyssey in present-day China … A totally captivating page-turner with vivid, first-hand details and nuanced multi-cultural facets.’
Qiu Xiaolong, author of The Mao Case and Death of a Red Heroine
‘At the top of the Most Promising New Author list is Lisa Brackman’
San Diego Union Tribune
‘This debut novel is a snapshot of a very modern China … Brackman’s experience in the motion picture industry is evident. A gritty and intriguing tale of terror that
draws in the reader with each page; Brackman is a new writer to watch’
Library Journal
‘Few writers would be up to the challenge of blending the worlds of urban China, Iraq, and a virtual online kingdom – but Lisa Brackman wildly succeeds. Prepare to taste the smog, smell the noodles, and rub the Beijing dust between your fingers. A fresh and vigorous work that vividly captures the roller coaster that is life in modern China’
Eliot Pattison, author of The Skull Mantra
‘Brackman’s debut deftly mixes modern China, the Iraq War, and online gaming, an unusual combination that manages to work … The two narrated strands constitute a fast-paced and engaging story as both plots are full of mystery and suspense … The characters are full-bodied and engaging. Good reading for anyone interested in the international crime novel’
Booklist
Copyright
This novel is entirely a work of fiction.
The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
Harper
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers
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Hammersmith, London W6 8JB
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A Paperback Original 2012
1
First published in the USA in 2010 by Soho Press as Rock Paper Tiger
Copyright © Lisa Brackmann 2010
Lisa Brackmann asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
EPub Edition © January 2012 ISBN: 978 0 00 745320 7
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