Haiyuan Has No Post Office

The wind in Haiyuan tastes of salt, and smells of loess and sheep dung. When it blows into your eyes, it leaves a thin crust behind. Not a real crust, but a tiny reminder of home that you can't escape, no matter where you go.

Ma Long, a Hui man from Haiyuan County in Ningxia, is so nearsighted he has a thousand degrees of myopia. He can't play table tennis, yet shares his name with a world champion. He studies accounting because his father said, “A bookkeeper will never starve.” He waits for his father, from the long-distance bus station to the high-speed rail station, from “This time, for sure” to “Waiting itself is the answer.” He teaches Ma Yuan to play, not to win, but to tell the boy who shares his name: becoming yourself is hard, but it's worth it.

This is a novel about wind, accounts, balls, and the lifetime balance sheet that must be settled. From 1961 to 2076, from Ma Long to Ma Yuan to Ma Haiyuan: three generations, two Ma Longs, and one enduring, Haiyuan-style story about becoming yourself, carried on the wind.