Lin Haiyin

Lin Haiyin (林海音; March 18, 1918 - December 1, 2001) was a Taiwanese writer of Han Chinese ethnicity. She is best remembered for her 1960 memoir 城南舊事 (Chengnan Jiushi, "My Memories of Old Beijing"), a novelistic tribute to her childhood reminiscences of Beijing.

Born in Osaka, Japan, where her father (of Jiaoling, Guangdong origin) worked as a merchant, Lin's parents moved first to Taiwan, before settling in Beijing when she was 5. She would spend her next 25 years there. In Beijing (later Beiping), Lin graduated from the News and Broadcast Institute and became a journalist for Shijie Ribao ("World News Daily").

In 1948, Lin returned with her husband and family to Taiwan, where she became the editor of several important literary periodicals and newspapers, including the literary section of the United Daily News and The Literary Monthly, before eventually establishing her own publishing house. She would reside in Taiwan for the rest of her life.

Altogether, she published some 18 books, including novels, short story collections, radio drama and children's literature, many of which deal with the feminine experience. Her most famous book remains 城南舊事 (Chengnan Jiushi, lit. "My Memories of Old Beijing", 1960). In it, Lin records in lively, evocative, first-person prose her childhood memories, ending with the death of her father, from the eyes of a precocious, impressionable young girl.

My Memories of Old Beijing was made into a Mainland China feature film in 1982, directed by Wu Yigong. The film won the Best Director Prize at the 3rd annual Golden Rooster Awards, as well as the Golden Eagle Prize (Best Feature Film) at the Manila International Film Festival in 1983. In 1999, it was chosen as one of the 100 best 20th-century Chinese-language films by Asia Weekly.

Read more about Lin Haiyin:  Works

Famous quotes containing the word lin:

    Out then spak her father dear,
    And he spak meek and mild,
    And ever alas, sweet Janet, he says,
    I think thou gaes wi’ child.

    If that I gae wi’ child, father,
    Mysel maun bear the blame;
    There’s ne’er a laird about your ha’,
    Shall get the bairn’s name.
    —Unknown. Tam Lin (l. 53–60)