Description:

Colors of the Mountain is a classic story of triumph over adversity, a memoir of a boyhood full of spunk, mischief, and love, and a welcome introduction to an amazing young writer.

Da Chen was born in 1962, in the Year of Great Starvation. Mao Zedong's Cultural Revolution engulfed millions of Chinese citizens, and the Red Guard enforced Mao's brutal communist regime. Chen’s family belonged to the despised landlord class, and his father and grandfather were routinely beaten and sent to labor camps, the family of eight left without a breadwinner. Despite this background of poverty and danger, and Da Chen grows up to be resilient, tough, and funny, learning how to defend himself and how to work toward his future. By the final pages, when his says his last goodbyes to his father and boards the bus to Beijing to attend college, Da Chen has become a hopeful man astonishing in his resilience and cheerful strength.

Review

-A completely engrossing coming-of-age tale...a defiantly happy book, big-hearted and sincere.---Newsweek
-This is a mad sad story with soul and spirituality. A child rises to man in these pages, forgiving those who did him ill, and tells his story with compassion and warm humor. Read this book and cheer a child who triumphes over the darkness and indeed becomes a beacon.- -Malachy McCourt
-A story about suppression, humiliation, vindication and, ultimately, triumph.---The New York Times Book Review
-Here is that rarity in these times, a truly marvelous book...big-hearted and humorous, written in simple, evocative prose.---The Denver Post

"A completely engrossing coming-of-age tale...a defiantly happy book, big-hearted and sincere."--Newsweek
"This is a mad sad story with soul and spirituality. A child rises to man in these pages, forgiving those who did him ill, and tells his story with compassion and warm humor. Read this book and cheer a child who triumphes over the darkness and indeed becomes a beacon." -Malachy McCourt
"A story about suppression, humiliation, vindication and, ultimately, triumph."--The New York Times Book Review
"Here is that rarity in these times, a truly marvelous book...big-hearted and humorous, written in simple, evocative prose."--The Denver Post

?A story about suppression, humiliation, vindication and, ultimately, triumph. The New York Times Book Review

?Da Chen has written a remarkable coming-of-age memoir filled with humiliation, revenge, vindication, and ultimately, pride?. A book of great dignity.??Lisa See

From the Inside Flap

Colors of the Mountain is a classic story of triumph over adversity, a memoir of a boyhood full of spunk, mischief, and love, and a welcome introduction to an amazing young writer.

Da Chen was born in 1962, in the Year of Great Starvation. Mao Zedong's Cultural Revolution engulfed millions of Chinese citizens, and the Red Guard enforced Mao's brutal communist regime. Chen?s family belonged to the despised landlord class, and his father and grandfather were routinely beaten and sent to labor camps, the family of eight left without a breadwinner. Despite this background of poverty and danger, and Da Chen grows up to be resilient, tough, and funny, learning how to defend himself and how to work toward his future. By the final pages, when his says his last goodbyes to his father and boards the bus to Beijing to attend college, Da Chen has become a hopeful man astonishing in his resilience and cheerful strength.

From the Back Cover

Colors of the Mountain is a classic story of triumph over adversity, a memoir of a boyhood full of spunk, mischief, and love, and a welcome introduction to an amazing young writer.
Da Chen was born in 1962, in the Year of Great Starvation. Mao Zedong's Cultural Revolution engulfed millions of Chinese citizens, and the Red Guard enforced Mao's brutal communist regime. Chen's family belonged to the despised landlord class, and his father and grandfather were routinely beaten and sent to labor camps, the family of eight left without a breadwinner. Despite this background of poverty and danger, and Da Chen grows up to be resilient, tough, and funny, learning how to defend himself and how to work toward his future. By the final pages, when his says his last goodbyes to his father and boards the bus to Beijing to attend college, Da Chen has become a hopeful man astonishing in his resilience and cheerful strength."

About the Author

Da Chen is a graduate of Columbia University Law School, which he attended on full scholarship. A brush calligrapher of considerable spirituality who also plays the classical bamboo flute, he lives in New York's Hudson Valley with his wife and two children.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

In September 1971, I entered third grade. Dad had come back from the camp on the mountain and was at another reform camp ten miles away from our town. They made him dig ditches from morning to night to expand an irrigation system that eventually failed to work, while continuing to press for more confessions about my uncle in Taiwan, which had always been China's sworn enemy.

Sometimes I was allowed to visit Dad and bring him food. I would stand on the edge of the work site, searching for signs of my father among the hundred or so other people being "reformed." Tired, curious faces would look at me, word would pass on down the line, then eventually out would come my dad from the ditches, his back straight, head held high, and a dazzling smile on his face for his son as he busily dusted off his ragged clothes. I would have nothing to say and could only look at his blistered hands, while he asked how everybody was and how my schoolwork was going. Then it was time to leave; if I delayed, the foreman would chase me off the site with his wooden stick.

Grandpa was suffering all the time now. An expensive medication was bought to cure him, but he was outraged when he heard its price, since he knew that what it cost could have bought the whole family some decent food for a month. Despite his frail condition, he was still ordered to go to the rice fields every day to chase the birds. After he had had an especially bad night, I brought in another petition. The cadre ripped it to pieces in front of me.

"The stinking dogshit!" he screamed, and spat on the floor. "Tell your no-good grandpa to wake up. I've already given him the lightest job and he doesn't appreciate it. What does he want, to sleep in his warm bed all day and plot his revenge against our Communist system? Well, that's not going to happen with me in charge." He thumped his chest. "Do you hear me? And as for you, you little shit, I don't want to see you this often. You'll be in trouble yourself one of these days, running all these errands for your no-good family."

I ran home angrily and told Grandpa the answer was no.

My eldest sister, Si, had graduated from junior high school. Brother Jin had had to stop one year short of completing it, and Ke and Huang were asked to leave before finishing elementary school. The Red Guards took over the classroom and put some teacher on a humiliation parade. They had made the lives of landlords' children and grandchildren miserable. Si's classmates had hacked at her hair with scissors, which made her look like a mental case, and Jin, while he was still in school, had been constantly hassled and beaten by his classmates.

One day we received a notice from the local school authorities. It read, "Due to overcrowding in our school system, it has been decided by the Communist party that the children of landlords, capitalists, rich farmers, and the leftists will no longer be going directly to Junior high or high school. This new policy is to be implemented immediately for the benefit of thousands of poor farmers." The curt notice didn't explain the logic behind such a decree. But we understood that they considered us the enemy and a danger to their world. Education could only further our cause and threaten theirs.

Thus I became the last student in our family. Every day Morn would whisper to me before school that I should cherish this precious opportunity. I should work hard and be a good student, or I would have to stop school like my siblings and become a farmer or a carpenter, with no hope for a better future. She said the more they wanted you out of school, the more you should show them how good you are. She admonished me to behave myself and not give them reason to throw me out.

The pressure weighed heavily on me. The idea of being a farmer for the rest of my life, working in the fields unceasingly, rain or shine, chilled my bones. I saw my sisters and brothers, still so young, getting up before dawn to cut the ripened rice in darkness before the biting sun made work unbearable. They came home by moonlight after laboring a full day, their backs cramped and sore, cuts on their fingers, blisters covering their hands. Sometimes they were humiliated because the older, more experienced farmers in the commune trashed them for making mistakes. And sometimes they were angry because they were made to work the heaviest jobs, like jumping into manholes to scoop up manure. At night, my sisters often cried in Mom's arms. They were no longer children.

I looked at school in a different light. It was still a fun place, but now it was much, much more. It was the key to a bright future. I knew if I could somehow stay in school, I would do well. There was hope. I arrived at school early every morning and volunteered to sweep the classroom and clean the blackboard. I still managed to have my morning reading assignment done before the others arrived so that I had time to play and help those who needed some tutoring. But the new teacher wasn't the least impressed with me. I sometimes became aware of him staring silently at my back as I sat alone in class doing my work. He was cool and abrupt and seemed disgusted with the little boy who wanted so hard to please him.

My third-grade teacher was a young man about twenty-five years old. He had icy, protruding eyes, and thin lips that squeezed out his words slowly and deliberately. His nose was pointed, with long, black hairs sticking out of both nostrils, and a receding chin that melted into his long neck. He had a habit of looking at his reflection in the window, preening and recombing his hair before entering the classroom. His name was La Shan.

La Shan invited many of his students to his dormitory on campus, where they played chess and talked long after school. He also organized basketball games among the students, but I was never included. I stood at a distance, watching them play with the energetic young teacher, laughing and shouting. When I sometimes quietly inquired about what they did in his dormitory, my friends Jie and Clang would tell me that they played and listened to La Shan talk about politics, about things like the class struggle and what to do with bad people like landlords and American special agents.

I became quieter and less active in his class. He continued to act as if I didn't exist, and I became more and more isolated, but I still carried on my work with pride and always scored the best in quizzes. I missed my teacher, Mr. Sun, terribly.

In the back of each classroom there was another blackboard on which the best poems or compositions by the students were displayed. It was an honor to have your work posted, and mine used to appear there every week. Many years under my grandfather's tutelage had made me the best calligrapher in the entire school, and I had won school-wide competitions against older students. But since La Shan had become my teacher, my work never appeared on the blackboard. He also deprived me of the task of copying the poems onto the blackboard with chalk, a task only students with the best calligraphy were allowed to do.

I was no longer the head of the class. In my place stepped the son of the first party secretary of Yellow Stone commune, the most feared man in town. La Shan also made him the head of the Little Red Guard, a political organization for children. I was the only one in class who was not a member. I coveted the pretty red bands worn on their arms and had applied to join, but La Shan told me I needed to make more of an effort, that he wasn't sure I was loyal in my heart to the Communist cause like other children from good working-class families. Whenever a Little Red Guard meeting was held, I was asked to step outside. I would hang around the playground by myself until they finished.

My whole life seemed to be drifting away from the crowd. It puzzled me and kept me awake at night as I stared up at my mosquito net. I didn't tell my family about any of the changes; they already had enough to worry about. At home, I pretended to be cheerful and told them how well I was doing in school. Once a cousin of mine mentioned to my brother that I was no longer doing the blackboard copying. I made up a story, telling my family that I needed a change, so was giving my fellow students a chance.

Because I was driven and still confident in my abilities, I worked even harder and volunteered even more for tasks before and after school. It was like throwing myself against a stone wall. The harder I tried, the more the teacher disliked me. He even criticized me in front of all the students about my overzealous attempts to win his praise. This upset and confused me. What more could I do to try and fit into the place that I once used to love?

My first real brush with La Shan came when he was collecting the weekend homework. The assignment had been to copy a text of Chairman Mao's quotations, but my work had been soaked in the rain on the way to class and I had thrown away the smeared, useless paper, intending to redo it in the afternoon. When he found out I had nothing to turn in, La Shan called the class to attention. "Students, Chen Da has not done his homework, which he knew was to copy the text of our great Chairman Mao. It is a deliberate insult to our great leader."

"I did the homework like I always do," I protested loudly, "but the rain got it all wet."
The whole class looked at me quietly.

La Shan turned red, the muscles in his cheeks twitching. He had lost face because I had answered back.

"What did you do with it?" he demanded.

"I threw it into a manhole on my way to class because it was all messy." The students laughed.

" "at did you say?"

"I said I threw it into a manhole," I screamed back. I knew I was acting irrationally, but couldn't stop.

"You threw Chairman Mao's quotations into a stinking manhole?" His face flamed and spittle flew from his mouth with each word. "Do you realize how severe an offense you have just committed?"

A deadly quiet came over the class. Everyone looked at me, waiting for my reaction. In that split second, I glimpsed the possible serious trouble he could make if he chose to. Mom's words, "Stay out of trouble, " rang in my ears.

I felt dizzy, as if I had been hit with a club. I already regretted my actions and wished I could take everything back, but it was too late, the damage had been done. I thought of Mom and Dad and the trouble I might have just brought to my family if the teacher blew this thing up. My head began to pound.

"I am sorry, honorable teacher. I will redo my homework and hand it in as soon as possible."

He stared at me silently with his icy eyes, looking like a wolf that had just caught a rabbit in a trap.

"You think it's going to be that easy?" He shook his head slowly. "Everybody!" His voice cracked out. "Let's have a vote. Those who wish to have Da thrown out of our classroom, raise your hands."

There was a moment of silence. Then slowly, the son of the party secretary raised his hand. A few more hands from the La Shan club went up. Next the whole class raised their collective hands, even my friends Jie and Clang.

I felt trapped. I felt half-dead. I couldn't understand how even my best friends could vote against me.

"Please, I don't want to leave this class. I would like to stay."

"We'll see about that. Class is over for the day," La Shan said, slamming his book closed and walking out of the room, his disciples trailing behind him.

I walked home in a daze. Nobody talked to me. I redid my homework and turned it in right away. I waited for La Shan to throw me out of school, but nothing happened. I sat in the back corner of the class by myself. No one talked to me, not even my friends. Occasionally, La Shan would throw disgusted glances my way. The worst thing was when he disparagingly called me "that person in the corner" without looking at me. Why did he take the whole thing so personally, as if I had desecrated his ancestor's tombstone?

Then one day during the morning exercise break La Shan called my name and asked me to stay behind while the others noisily poured out of class.

"I have received reports about you," he said, pacing in front of the classroom. "Really bad reports."

My heart began to race. "What kind of reports?"

"You have been saying antirevolutionary and anti-Communist things to your classmates, haven't you?"

"No, I haven't." He was trying to paint me as a counterrevolutionary, just as they had done to Yu Xuang, a fifth-grader whom they had locked in the commune jail for further investigation. It was a dangerous situation.

"I have never done anything like that! You know that!" I said, using the best defense a nine-year-old could muster.

"I have the reports here"-he waved a thick sheaf of paper-"and I can ask these people to testify against you if necessary."

"The people who wrote those reports were lying. I have never said anything against our country or the Communist party."

"Shut up! You have no right to defend yourself, only the chance to confess and repent," he spat out angrily. His voice deepened. "Do you understand what kind of trouble you are in now?"

"I have nothing to confess!" I was losing control again. My throat dried up and my arms began to tremble.

"I said, shut up! You have today and tonight to write a confession of all the treasonous things you have said, to explain the motivation, and to state who told you to say these horrible things. Like perhaps your father, mother, or your landlord grandparents."

He was trying to involve my family. They would put my dad in prison. They would take Grandpa out into the street and beat him to death.

"They did not tell me to do or say bad things against the party! They didn't!" I cried. I couldn't afford to have my family dragged into this. I was scared and began to sob helplessly. The sky had just caved in and I felt that nobody could help me. I would be a young counterrevolutionary, a condemned boy, despised by the whole country. I would be left to rot in a dark prison cell for life. That was what had happened to Shi He, another high school kid, who was caught listening to an anti-Communist radio program from Taiwan, and worse, to the banned Teresa Deng's love songs. His prison sentence had been twenty years.

I don't remember how long I cried that morning. When I walked home alone in the afternoon's setting sun, I felt the weight of shackles already around my ankles.

A condemned man at the age of nine! Confession tomorrow! The thoughts played over and over in my mind.

When I got home, I told Mom what had happened and she started sobbing, hitting her face and chest and pulling out her hair. She mumbled hysterically, in broken sentences, that their generation had brought the curse to the next generation. After a while, she sat down quietly, weak and limp like a frightened animal. Finally, she got up and sent Si and Jin to Dad's camp to ask for advice. They got to talk to him by using the excuse that Mom was very sick again.

Reviews:

5.0 out of 5 stars Full of Human Virtue

P.M. · August 1, 2025

Da shows the way to live in the darkest moments of life, not perfect but digging deep into the best of Chinese culture. I read his story with hope for all human kind.

5.0 out of 5 stars Great book!

j.s. · June 21, 2024

Great book!

4.0 out of 5 stars Captivating Memoir

B. · February 21, 2009

Author Da Chen writes an interesting semi-autobiographical novel of his years growing up during Chairman Mao's Cultural Revolution. He narrates his rise from the persecuted landlord class up into the revered educated class during one of China's most turbulent periods. More interesting, though, is the glimpse we get of the madness that pervaded China during that time. Educated and skilled city workers were forced en masse out to the countryside to work the farmlands. Farmers and peasants were sent into the cities to run the schools and bureaucracy. Inevitable chaos ensured. Yet, life goes on and some people, like Chen, still managed to triumph through the struggles and sufferings.I would agree that Chen's perspectives on historical events may not have been totally objective or acurate. But the ease and warmth in which he recounts his own story makes "Colors of the Mountain" both captivating and inspiring. I liked it.

5.0 out of 5 stars First Hand Account

A.C. · November 3, 2024

This was a first hand account of a boy growing into a man during the Chinese Communist cultural revolution.

5.0 out of 5 stars Great bio/fiction

C.B.M. · February 15, 2020

A great read involving a time that we can relate to. It is good to be able to find out what times were like and how many of our fore descendants had to endure. Well written. Loved it.Just sorry to hear that the author recently passed.

5.0 out of 5 stars Loved the book

L.g. · March 28, 2020

I just started to read this author and love his writing style. I continue to purchase more of his stories. Amazing stories.

3.0 out of 5 stars Just OK

C.B. · March 28, 2014

Sort of hokey story about post Mao China, but from a child's point of view. Then following the child's growth into his teen years and his determination to overcome the barriers to success outside of his caste status. Story could have been told in many fewer pages in my estimation. It was a book where I did not read every word--- not a cliff hanger, but OK.

5.0 out of 5 stars Amazing book

R. · December 6, 2009

This is an amazing book. Da Chen writes beautifully, and his story opened my eyes to the effects of the Cultural Revolution and what it was like to live in China at that time. Here was someone who was born about the same time that I was in the U.S., but what a different life he had. When this book first came out, I bought many copies and gave them to friends and family.I just learned he has since written more books, and I can't wait to read them!

Acertei na escolha

C.M. · September 7, 2018

Há algum tempo vi um release sobre esta obra e percebi que me agradaria lê-lo.Enfim consegui, e tinha razão é muito bom.

Brilliant Read

A. · November 1, 2008

A brilliant book about a boy growing up in the poverty of the Chinese cultural revolution and eventually making it to America and becoming a lawyer. One of the most uplifting books Iv'e ever read. My wife is Chinese and reads loads of 'people growing up during the Cultural revolution' books, and most of them are incredibly whiny and angry (and they probably have good cause - but it doesn't make them a good read). Da Chen doesn't whine - his book is both uplifting in how he overcame adversity and sad and funny in some of the characters he protrays. His English prose puts many 'native english' writers to shame.Word of warning though - his second book which follows on from this is not as good and disapointed.If theres one book to read in your life though this is it.

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Colors of the Mountain: A Memoir

Name: Colors of the Mountain: A Memoir
Brand: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
SKU: U0385720602
Price: 83.89 AED
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Rating: 4.6 (10 reviews)

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Condition: New

4.6

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Visit the Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group Store

Colors of the Mountain: A Memoir

Product ID: U0385720602

Condition: New

4.6

Type: Paperback

^AED83⁸⁹

Price includes VAT & Import Duties

Availability: In Stock

Quantity:

Order today to get by 7-14 business days

Delivery fee of AED 20. Free for orders above AED 200.

Returns & Warranty policies

Imported From: United States

At BOLO, we work hard to ensure the products you receive are new, genuine, and sourced from reputable suppliers.

Your trust is our top priority, and we are committed to maintaining transparency and integrity in every transaction.

Unless otherwise stated, all prices displayed on the product page include applicable taxes and import duties.

All items are shipped by air, and any products classified as “Dangerous Goods (DG)” under IATA regulations will be removed from the order and cancelled.

Description:

Review

From the Inside Flap

Colors of the Mountain is a classic story of triumph over adversity, a memoir of a boyhood full of spunk, mischief, and love, and a welcome introduction to an amazing young writer.

Da Chen was born in 1962, in the Year of Great Starvation. Mao Zedong's Cultural Revolution engulfed millions of Chinese citizens, and the Red Guard enforced Mao's brutal communist regime. Chen?s family belonged to the despised landlord class, and his father and grandfather were routinely beaten and sent to labor camps, the family of eight left without a breadwinner. Despite this background of poverty and danger, and Da Chen grows up to be resilient, tough, and funny, learning how to defend himself and how to work toward his future. By the final pages, when his says his last goodbyes to his father and boards the bus to Beijing to attend college, Da Chen has become a hopeful man astonishing in his resilience and cheerful strength.

From the Back Cover

Colors of the Mountain is a classic story of triumph over adversity, a memoir of a boyhood full of spunk, mischief, and love, and a welcome introduction to an amazing young writer.
Da Chen was born in 1962, in the Year of Great Starvation. Mao Zedong's Cultural Revolution engulfed millions of Chinese citizens, and the Red Guard enforced Mao's brutal communist regime. Chen's family belonged to the despised landlord class, and his father and grandfather were routinely beaten and sent to labor camps, the family of eight left without a breadwinner. Despite this background of poverty and danger, and Da Chen grows up to be resilient, tough, and funny, learning how to defend himself and how to work toward his future. By the final pages, when his says his last goodbyes to his father and boards the bus to Beijing to attend college, Da Chen has become a hopeful man astonishing in his resilience and cheerful strength."

About the Author

Reviews:

5.0 out of 5 stars Full of Human Virtue

P.M. · August 1, 2025

Da shows the way to live in the darkest moments of life, not perfect but digging deep into the best of Chinese culture. I read his story with hope for all human kind.

5.0 out of 5 stars Great book!

j.s. · June 21, 2024

Great book!

4.0 out of 5 stars Captivating Memoir

B. · February 21, 2009

5.0 out of 5 stars First Hand Account

A.C. · November 3, 2024

This was a first hand account of a boy growing into a man during the Chinese Communist cultural revolution.

5.0 out of 5 stars Great bio/fiction

C.B.M. · February 15, 2020

5.0 out of 5 stars Loved the book

L.g. · March 28, 2020

I just started to read this author and love his writing style. I continue to purchase more of his stories. Amazing stories.

3.0 out of 5 stars Just OK

C.B. · March 28, 2014

5.0 out of 5 stars Amazing book

R. · December 6, 2009

Acertei na escolha

C.M. · September 7, 2018

Há algum tempo vi um release sobre esta obra e percebi que me agradaria lê-lo.Enfim consegui, e tinha razão é muito bom.

Brilliant Read

A. · November 1, 2008

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Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

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