When I recall my past experiences, it’s unsurprising that the memories of my early-age migration come to mind. I was five years old when my family moved permanently from China to Hurstville—a predominantly Chinese suburb in the south of Sydney. In spite of how jarring it was to encounter different physical surroundings and social practices in Australia, the community here was also reminiscent of China. I was surrounded by faces like mine everywhere I went; by people speaking a variety of Chinese dialects; by a primary school population, which was majority Chinese and from a non-English speaking background. At that age, during which we barely ventured outside of our suburb, this world was the only one I knew.

For a long time, I found it difficult to articulate the nuances of how this community had shaped me. Yet over the past year, three books by authors of Chinese and Taiwanese descent I read prompted me to reflect upon these experiences—both the positive and more difficult aspects.