Diamond Hill, Kit Fan’s debut novel, is that rarest of things in fiction: both a timely and compelling narrative in its own right and a love letter to a disappearing city that becomes an enduring metaphor for individual identity, power and transformation.
Set in Hong Kong in 1987, four years after the signing of the Joint Declaration, it follows the ironically named Buddha, a recovering heroin addict, sent back to Hong Kong by his dying mentor in Bangkok to live in a dilapidated nunnery in the eponymous Diamond Hill. Once known as the Hollywood of the Orient - mainly due to its associations with the actor Bruce Lee - the area has since become the last shanty town in Hong Kong, epitomised by its nihilistic descent into poverty but kept financially afloat - in a knowing nod to the historic Opium Wars - by its outflow of drugs, controlled by the charismatic teenage girl known simply as Boss.
Diamond Hill’s real value, however, lies in its status as a piece of prime real estate for the encroaching developers and the novel’s outward plot, at least, centres on this David and Goliath struggle as the disempowered but enterprising residents battle to protect their homes against the relentless onslaught of colonial and national greed.
Amidst this larger battle, however, civil conflicts and betrayals are rife as personal interests come to bear on the characters, setting the stage for a complex, poignant descent into the war for individual recognition.
The exploration of disempowerment is nothing new in fiction, of course, but Fan’s focus on Hong Kong at this particular point in history, and specifically the fate of Diamond Hill, gives perfect voice to the complexity of a theme which continues to resonate today in the city. Many of those in Hong Kong see themselves as children of the UK, albeit adopted ones, and the fear of change and transformation as 1997 approaches is reflected in the microcosm of the novel’s plot and its characters alike. Both Boss and her mother - the wonderful Audrey Hepburn - identify themselves as British, although their outdated and stereotypical allusions to the culture (the heavy gold jewellery; the Laura Ashley faux Victoriana of Boss’s slum bedroom) are rudely revealed as merely a pastiche when set against the white colonial property developers in their very real Bentleys.
Both the willing and unwilling suppression of memories is an ongoing theme in the novel and plays out at both a personal and wider level, most notably through Buddha himself and the fascinating Quartz, a novice at the nunnery whose lack of memory before joining the order becomes central to the story. But it is important on a political level, too, most specifically regarding the question of agency through history. Here too, however, Fan offers a nuanced and convincing argument. It’s not that Hongkongers have forgotten the stick for the carrot, but that their identities have been shaped over generations into something unique and individual that is now under very palpable threat. I was reminded at times of Fruit Chan’s “Made in Hong Kong” which similarly deals with themes of disenfranchisement amongst the lower classes under the shadow of the Handover, and the way in which without power or money to secure their fate, characters are forced to find agency through the sheer will of human spirit and communal values. Though not as pessimistic in its outlook as Made in Hong Kong there is something equally inevitable about the fate of the players in Diamond Hill and the note of uncertainty that the novel ends on which perfectly captures the mood of the moment.
Fan’s genesis as a poet and short story writer as well as his personal investment in the story is evidenced in his elegant prose which is, by turns, muscular and beautifully lyrical. His language skillfully achieves that sweet spot peculiar to Hong Kong in its mix of poetic, idiosyncratic metaphor and street slang, including its liberal use of inventive and frequently hilarious profanities.
Neither is the apparent smallness of Diamond Hill’s plot an accident, for this is a novel which strives and wholeheartedly achieves more than the sum of its parts. Structured around the lunisolar calendar, and set over the course of a year, the largest character in Diamond Hill is Diamond Hill itself, whose physical changes over the novel become both the crucible and the mirror of the events within it. In writing the novel, Fan has crafted both a fascinating story and a poignant memory of himself which will endure as a record of history. I can only hope it receives as wide a readership as possible both now and in the years to come. Highly recommended.
Wiz W, Reviewer
Charles C, Reviewer
