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376 pages, Paperback
First published April 15, 2015
“So, what’s your story, Lou? Why the disguise I mean, the trousers, and everything else?”
Lou shrugged; winced. “It’s not a disguise. I don’t keep a spare sock rolled up in my drawers or anything. I mean, I grew up wearing pants, you know— Chinese women often wear them, if not this style. They’re a sight more comfortable when you walk around all the—”
“No,” interrupted Shai. “I understand well enough the many virtues of pants, Chinese or American. I was asking why you wore them— American pants. I wouldn’t be asking if you were dressed like a traditional Chinese woman.”
“Oh,” said Lou, feeling more than a little self-conscious. What business was it of his? “It’s just how I am, I guess. Who I am. I mean, why are you such a dude even out here in the wilderness? It’s just how you are, right?”
“Fair enough,” said Shai, settling his derby over his face to shade his eyes from the sun.


She might not like her client much, but no psychopomp worth her salt ever mocked the grieving.
Learning about the history of Chinese immigration to San Francisco was one of my favorite parts of researching Vermilion, but research is fundamentally humbling. I have tried my best to be accurate and respectful, but I know too well that sometimes one's best is not good enough. All this to say, I apologize for any errors in Vermilion, and I hope in spite of any inaccuracies it proved an enjoyable read.