I’d like to see us recognize each other’s humanity beyond national borders...
Kathryn Mockler: What is your first memory of existing?Su Chang: This appears to be my earliest memory: I was about 5 years old, sitting on my mother’s lap on a Shanghai public bus, on our way to visit my mother’s best friend whom I called auntie. We were skirting the edge of People’s Square and clusters of people were gathering there, doing what I could not recall. This seems to be a random scene, but I likely have remembered it for a few reasons. For one, I felt entirely safe and content in my mom’s arms, and in my own skin, which is a state I struggled to return to in my adulthood. Moreover, it was a moment when I suddenly recognized the huge world out there, separate from me and the intimate circle I knew, that was both exciting and potentially dangerous. I seemed to sense for the first time the dichotomy between secure detachment and risky/exciting engagement. The memory has a distinctive feel of “awakening” to it.
KM: What is your first memory of being creative (writing, art making, etc.)?SC: I must have doodled before I wrote, but somehow I can’t remember a single concrete scene of me drawing or painting at an early age (and I was never particularly good at it). My first memory of being creative was indeed storytelling. My grade 1 teacher decided that I was a storyteller and recommended me to the headmaster for a city-wide competition. There were lunch-time practice sessions. There were a lot of gesticulations, head-swaying, voice-projecting, and increasingly longer stories to tell. I wasn’t good enough to write original stories yet, but soon after winning my first storytelling competition in Shanghai, I started trying to write my own tales. I got the first one published in a national youth newspaper in Grade 3, about a ruthless king who stopped all the clocks in his country so he could exploit the workers. Looking back, it was a miracle that it got published!
KM: Do you have a preferred emotion to experience? What is it and why? Or is there an emotion that you detest having and why?SC: Personally, I don’t like to experience anger. I very well understand the function of anger (and it can indeed be highly useful). I dislike it because, unfortunately, as far as negative emotions go, anger is my go-to, and it’s almost always masking my true emotion: sadness. I think it ties to my sense of pride, to put on a brave face when it’s likely much healthier to let myself fall apart and be vulnerable. When I re-read my earlier drafts of The Immortal Woman, I see a frequent display of rage masking sorrow in both the mother (Lemei) and daughter (Lin) characters. They are both proud, headstrong women, but the way they express their negative emotions is not often productive, which causes further conflict, miscommunication, and vicious cycles.
KM: What do you cherish most about this world?SC: People’s ability to love each other despite profound differences. I grew up in a highly homogenous (and conformist) culture in China. After I became an adult immigrant, I was amazed by the diversity of humans I came to call friends over time. Despite all the trial and tribulations of immigration, to finally be able to embrace humanity’s diversity has been a profound gift the journey offered. Both my mind and heart have benefited from understanding different perspectives and learning to love amid differences. Prejudice against “unknown” people, internalized racism/inferiority complex, urban vs. rural divide – all of which characters in my book suffer greatly from - are manifestations of a bad mythology. The only way to eliminate them is through living side by side with people of various backgrounds and to see their humanity shine in the day-to-day. We are all capable of learning/relearning/rewiring.
KM: What would you like to change about this world?SC: Following the answer to the previous question, what we are urgently lacking is for people on different ends of the political spectrum to talk to each other, calmly, with an open mind and a willingness to change. At a higher level, our obsession on nation states and border, our Cold War mentality, have paralyzed us in the face of big questions requiring global solutions – climate change, AI, pandemics, etc. I’d like to see us recognize each other’s humanity beyond national borders, and tackle the big issues of our times as trench buddies instead of competitors, even enemies.
KM: What advice would you give to your younger self? Your younger self could be you at any age.SC: Love yourself fiercely. Turn off the critics’ voices. Look in the direction you want to go and keep putting one foot in front of the other. You will find your people and your place in the world.
KM: If you could send your love to anyone, who would it be and why?SC: I would like to send my love to anyone, as long as they also have the capacity to love and to receive love. If I absolutely had to pick a group, I’d send my love to the quiet ones—people who feel unseen or unheard, who carry their burdens alone, who make space for others but rarely take up space themselves. Those swept into the undertow of colonialism and capitalism, struggling to keep their heads - and voices - above water. I hope this doesn’t sound too cliché. I suppose most writers feel the protective instinct toward the “voiceless.”
KM: Tell me about your latest book.SC: My debut novel, The Immortal Woman (House of Anansi, 2025), is about a Chinese mother and daughter wrestling with the demons of their past. The mother, once a student Red Guard leader in 1960s Shanghai and a journalist at a state newspaper, was involved in a brutal act of violence during the Tiananmen Square protests and lost all hope for her country. The daughter is a student at an American university on a mission to become a true Westerner. She tirelessly erases her birth identity, abandons her Chinese suitor, and pursues a white love interest, all the while haunted by the scars of her upbringing.
Following China’s meteoric rise, the mother is slowly dragged into a nationalistic perspective that stuns the daughter. Their conflicts and final confrontation result in tragic consequences, exposing the constant tension Chinese immigrants face – the push and pull between the pressure of assimilation and the allure of Chinese nationalism. How does unresolved political trauma lead to internalized racism and eroded identities? What’s the path to genuine belonging in a hostile geopolitical climate?
The Immortal Woman is a generational story of heartbreak, resilience, yearning, and ultimately, hope, offering a rarely seen insider’s view of the fractured lives of the new Chinese immigrants and those they leave behind. You can find more information about the novel on my website.
Su Chang is a Chinese-Canadian writer. Her debut novel The Immortal Woman has been nominated for the 2025 Toronto Book Award, won an Independent Publisher Book Award, and featured as a must-read by CBC Books, among other accolades. She has been named a 2025 “Writer-to-Watch” by CBC. Her short fiction has been recognized in Prairie Fire’s Short Fiction Contest, Canadian Authors' Association (Toronto) National Writing Contest, ILS/Fence Fiction Contest, among others. Visit Su Chang’s website or follow her on Instagram.
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The Immortal Woman
by Su ChangeHouse of Anansi Press, 2025A sweeping generational story of heartbreak, resilience, and yearning, revealing an insider’s view of the fractured lives of Chinese immigrants and those they leave behind.
Lemei, once a student Red Guard leader in 1960s Shanghai and a journalist at a state newspaper, was involved in a brutal act of violence during the Tiananmen Square protests and lost all hope for her country. Her daughter, Lin, is a student at an American university on a mission to become a true Westerner. She tirelessly erases her birth identity, abandons her Chinese suitor, and pursues a white lover, all the while haunted by the scars of her upbringing. Following China’s meteoric rise, Lemei is slowly dragged into a nationalistic perspective that stuns Lin. Their final confrontation results in tragic consequences, but ultimately, offers hope for a better future. By turns wry and lyrical, The Immortal Woman reminds us to hold tight to our humanity at any cost.
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