We are increasingly being informed that China is a country we can no longer afford to ignore – as an economic powerhouse, as a nuclear power, as a polluter – yet it is very easy to be distracted by the sheer scale of China, to the point where it becomes difficult to relate to the real people that live there: after all, it’s the world’s second largest country by land area, and has 1.3 billion citizens, which means one in every five people in the world is Chinese.  How do we get our heads around that?

In reporter Peter Hessler’s case, the answer was to live there for many years, and that’s great for us, as Country Living distills his experience in to a book that follows the very best traditions of travel writing, being both deeply insightful and often very funny. The book consists of three distinct sections, loosely united by the theme of car travel, which went from being a rarity and a privilege to an activity for the masses during Hessler’s time in China.

Much of the humour in this book comes from the driving: due to their differing circumstances, many Chinese do not learn to drive until they are in their late twenties or early thirties, and when they do, it’s a miracle more of them don’t die in the process. Driving courses vary widely in approach: when Hessler’s friend Wei Ziqi finally learns to drive, he spends about fifty eight hours learning to drive a truck, while never actually seeing any traffic, so when he finally gets in a car, an accident is inevitable. Other instructors insist on their pupils pulling away in second gear, because it’s harder, and, ironically, seem oblivious to the existence of the blind spot, teaching that under no circumstances must the driver turn their head. The multiple choice questions from the written driving test quoted throughout the book are gems, but after a while you start to question what the Chinese think the right answer would be:

352. If another motorist stops you to ask directions, you should

• not tell him.
• reply patiently and accurately.
• tell him the wrong way.

The three sections of this book are very clearly defined: in the first, Hessler takes a hire car on two massive journeys, following the route of the Great Wall as far as Inner Mongolia, and gaining all kinds of insights along the way. This is the section that most closely follows the idea of ‘classic’ travel writing, and will remind many readers of Bill Bryson’s mixture of bemusement, enthusiasm and wit. The second section is not really travelogue at all – it’s more the Chinese equivalent of Peter Mayle’s A Year in Provence, as the author makes a second home in the tiny village of Sancha, where he befriends local entrepreneur Wei Ziqi and his family, and follows the many changes that affect the tiny community over the years he spends there, as well as documenting some of its prior history. In the final section, he makes it his mission to follow the blisteringly rapid pace of change in one of China’s Enterprise Zones, made possible by the huge road-building programme initiated by the Communist government.

In reality, of course, Hessler’s life was not divided in to such neat sections, but the structure of the book makes it easy for him to make the points he needs to make about China and the Chinese. He is a profoundly sympathetic narrator, and there is hardly a trace of cultural superiority anywhere on show – he lives in China because he likes it, likes its people, and during the course of his travels and experiences, gains a great deal of insight that is eloquently shared with the reader  (although the Chinese are always coming up with fresh things to surprise him). A wonderful example of the power of good travel writing to bridge cultural divides, and highly recommended.

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