There’s something about old Hong Kong and Shanghai that lend themselves to ghost stories and mysteries. They share a similar history during World War II as well as traditions like the Tomb Sweeping and Hungry Ghost Festivals that honour the dead. The two cities are also known for stately old colonial homes, many of which still remain today. After Kristen Loesch lived in Hong Kong 15-20 years ago, she learned of Dragon Lodge, an abandoned old home on the Peak rumored to be haunted, and formed the story that would become her new novel, The Hong Kong Widow, an engaging ghost story that alternates between wartime Shanghai, 1950s Hong Kong, and present-day US and Hong Kong. To add an extra touch to this chilling story, Hong Kong artist Jiksun Cheung’s illustrations are scattered throughout the story.
When Mei, the main character, is introduced in 1950s Hong Kong, she works in a Kowloon curio shop owned by a Russian emigree named Mrs Volkova. One day someone from Mei’s Shanghai past enters the curio shop.
The final customer of the day is an old lady with flaming white hair and a gold-capped cane, like a scepter. A lavish green cloak strains from her shoulders to her feet, sweeping the aisles clean as she browses. She chatters low, as if to herself, a sly stream of gossip about this shoe-shiner’s love affairs and that washerwoman’s slug of a son-in-law. She does not appear to require any assistance, so Mei begins to redress the window display: The brass Buddhas and Jingdezhen porcelain plates must be swapped out for burnished chicken-blood and field-yellow stone. Away come the small model ships and the mother-of-pearl mahjong sets, and in go the festive Mid-Autumn lanterns.
This customer is Holly Zhang, the widow of Mei’s former teacher and de facto father, George Maidenhair, an American who made his fortune in 1930s Shanghai and had all but adopted young Mei back then. Although they lost touch at the end of World War II, both Mei and George ended up in Hong Kong, Mei to work in the Kowloon curio shop and George to settle in a mansion on the Peak. Holly Zhang seeks out Mei to ask her to visit George’s home across the harbour, a home that holds secrets and ghosts.
At first glance it resembles any other British colonial structure: whitewashed, unremarkable but imposing, with tall pillars and blank façades. But to the sides of the main body of the house are two small wings, and these have been built in a radically different style: They are made from a menacing dark stone, with sharply cut arches and high-pitched pointed roofs, stuck on like rice paddy hats. Traditional Chinese-style lanterns hang from the eaves, snapping in the breeze.
Despite the title and although the 1950s and most of the contemporary parts of the story are set in Hong Kong, Shanghai plays just as important a role. Mei arrives in Shanghai in 1937 from her hometown in Jiangsu Province after her father brings her there to live with relatives. When she’s barely a teenager, she meets a German Jewish refugee named Max Friedman, three years her senior, and the two become close friends. When Max is forced into the Shanghai Ghetto by the ruling Japanese, Mei insists on moving there with him. She’s a skilled paper artist and can work even in the dire conditions of the ghetto. All this time, she tries to learn what happened to her disappeared mother as well as the other women who met similar fates. This is also when Mei’s friendship with George Maidenhair comes to a boiling point.
In her author’s note, Loesch writes that she was determined to stay true to the historical events she includes in her story and apologizes for any errors she may have made. She goes on to state that she described the Great World amusement center in Shanghai minus the flashy advertisements that adorned it in the 1930s. This detail would probably have slipped by even the most dedicated Shanghai historian, and Loesch not only stays true to the historical details of old Shanghai and Hong Kong, but also presents a complex history of both places.
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