Shan Sa: The Girl Who Played Go

Reviewed by MARGIE THOMSON

Shan Sa's own short life has been astonishing - so far, that is. Born in Beijing in 1972, she had several volumes of poetry published before moving to France in 1990. Since then she has published three novels in French, all taking major prizes. This, her third, is a bestseller there, won the Prix Goncourt des Lyceens, has been translated into 14 languages and is to be made into a film.

This tightly structured historical/emotional exploration is set in a small city in Manchuria in 1936 and is rich with imagery. The Japanese are occupying China and have arrived at this far-flung place intent on dealing to the local resistance with a brutality Sa does not flinch from describing.

The story is told in two voices, of a 16-year-old Chinese girl and a young Japanese soldier, which dance along in alternate chapters as the characters move towards each other, their lives echoing in surprising ways.

They meet in the Square of A Thousand Winds, where strangers come together to play the ancient board game of go. The soldier, who revels in battle and believes his destiny is to die for his country, is disguised as a Chinese, to spy on the people gathered in the square.

The girl, an expert player, is caught between the girlish excitement of school, friends and gossip and the equally powerful winds of rebellion, her own sexuality and the expectations of family and society for the life of a young woman.

Their importance to each other grows silently and secretly, but inevitably. There is some predictability to this sad story, and an obviousness in its symbolism (go: game of territorial strategy; the dualities of China and Japan, life and death, domesticity and war) that might irritate some readers.

And yet Sa's telling of the tale, her sympathy for her characters and her gorgeous use of language, make this book stand out. She presents her Japanese soldier with great psychological acuity and to the eponymous girl she attributes not only sensitivity and intelligence, but also the occasional harshness of immaturity.

It's an intense experience. There is horror and sorrow, but also something humane that triumphs over the horror in the final stunning scene while simultaneously being swept away by it.

The 92 chapters are often only a few hundred words long - a technique that means we jump between the points of view disconcertingly quickly at times. But Sa's superb skill at reducing language down to its poetic essence, and the concentrated strength of this little story in which the main characters transcend their anonymity to become any-person representatives of that time and place, is both lovely and powerful.

Chatto & Windus, $34.95