How Much of These Hills Is Gold

There's dirt on Sam's brown face, sure, and gunpowder rubbed on to look (Sam thinks) like Indian war paint, but beneath it all, Sam's face is unblemished.

 

Just this once, because Ba's fists are helpless and stiff under the blanket-and maybe she is good, is smart, thinks in some small part that riling Ba might make him rise to swing at her-Lucy does what she never does. She cocks her hands, points her fingers. Prods Sam's chin where paint gives way to baby fat. The jaw another might call delicate, if not for Sam's way of jutting it.

 

"Pow yourself," Lucy says. She pushes Sam like an outlaw to the door.

 

Sun sucks them dry. Middle of the dry season, rain by now a distant memory. Their valley is bare dirt, halved by a wriggle of creek. On this side are the miners' flimsy shacks, on the other the moneyed buildings with proper walls, glass windows. And all around, circumscribing, the endless hills seared gold; and hidden within their tall, dry grasses, ragtag camps of prospectors and Indians, knots of vaqueros and travelers and outlaws, and the mine, and more mines, and beyond, and beyond.

 

Sam squares small shoulders and sets out across the creek, red shirt a shout against the barrenness.

 

When they first arrived there was still long yellow grass in this valley, and scrub oaks on the ridge, and poppies after rain. The flood three and a half years back rooted up those oaks, drowned or chased away half the people. Yet their family stayed, set alone at the valley's far edge. Ba like one of those lightning-split trees: dead down the center, roots still gripping on.

 

And now that Ba's gone?

 

Lucy fits her bare feet to Sam's prints and keeps quiet, saving spit. The water's long gone, the world after the flood left somehow thirstier.

 

And long gone, Ma.

 

Across the creek the main street stretches wide, shimmering and dusty as snakeskin. False fronts loom: saloon and blacksmith, trading post and bank and hotel. People lounge in the shadows like dragon lizards.

 

that gives its characters room to learn, mourn, fight, and reinvent themselves. But it also reveals the flaws and false revisions in the American mythos, the ways we have never fully overcome the brutalities on which this country was built, and how much was lost, destroyed, and stolen in the pursuit of profit along the way. Chicago Review of Books
 
Imaginative, vital . . . Zhang s searing words pierce the heart of America s founding mythology, laying bare its lies, and offering up a new, much-needed vision of this country and its people. Refinery29

As she depicts their journey, Zhang prompts the reader to think about whose stories are told from this period of American history fictional or not and adds her urgent voice to the genre. Time

A world wrought of breath and blood and imagination. Lit Hub

Stunning . . . a long-overdue treatment of the American West. Outside

Lyrical and mythic, How Much of These Hills Is Gold reconceives the immigrant narrative to tell an original story of racism and American greed. The A.V. Club

C Pam Zhang s electrifying debut is a sweeping work of historical fiction the sort of masterpiece that immediately establishes an author as a force to be reckoned with. Harper s Bazaar

This moving tale of family, gold, and freedom rings with a truth that defies rosy preconceptions. The description of human and environmental degradation is balanced by shining characters who persevere greatly. Highly recommended. Library Journal (starred review)

[An] extraordinary debut . . . Gorgeously written and fearlessly imagined, Zhang s awe-inspiring novel introduces two indelible characters whose odyssey is as good as the gold they seek. Publishers Weekly (starred review)

Aesthetically arresting and a vital contribution to America s conversation about itself. Kirkus Reviews (starred review)

Daringly original . . . Zhang s laser-sharp reexamination of America s myth-laden past is likely to help bring clarity to many issues that continue to challenge us all. BookPage (starred review)

Smart, beautiful, and intimate.   The Millions

Ferocious, dark and gleaming, a book erupting out of the interstices between myth and dream, between longing and belonging. How Much of These Hills Is Gold tells us that stories like people, like the rough and stunning landscape of California itself are constantly in the process of being made, broken, and finally remade into something tender and new.   Lauren Groff, The New York Times bestselling author of Fates and Furies
 
A haunting, riveting and truly remarkable debut. Zhang writes with the clear-eyed lucidity of ancient mythmakers whose eyes are attuned to the vicissitudes of nature and humanity. Chigozie Obioma, author of Booker Prize finalist An Orchestra of Minorities

This exhilarating novel unweaves the myths of the American West and offers in their place a gorgeous, broken, soulful, feral song of family and yearning, origin and earth. C Pam Zhang is a brilliant, fearless writer. This book is a wonder.   Garth Greenwell, author of What Belongs to You
 
A truly gifted writer.   Sebastian Barry, author of The Secret Scripture
 
A ravishingly written revisionist story of the making of the West, C Pam Zhang s debut is pure gold. Emma Donoghue, author of Room
 
How Much of These Hills is a miracle, as timely as it is timeless, propulsive but also wonderfully meditative, a ferocious, tender epic about a vulnerable immigrant family trying to survive the American Gold Rush. I read it in one night and know I ll revisit it soon: I envy you your first read of this book. R.O. Kwon, author of The Incendiaries

The writing here is intuitive, chewy, wonderful; the plot is devastating and the talent is dazzling. Zhang is a blazing writer. Daisy Johnson, author of Everything Under