TWO BICYCLES IN BEIJING

Lunzi the red bicycle races past the sights and sounds of Beijing in search of her friend Huangche, a yellow bicycle.

When Lunzi and Huangche leave the bicycle factory, they sit in a shop window watching the city and its people go by. “They wished they could stay this way forever. But one day,” a young girl comes in and buys Huangche. Soon after, a messenger boy enters the shop and picks Lunzi. The boy hops on and together they weave through narrow alleys called hutongs and race along main streets. They zip by Nanguan Park and the National Art Museum, and they fly by Tiananmen Square. Here and there Lunzi spots a flash of yellow. Is it Huangche? Sadly, no. It’s just a golden kite tail or a patch of chrysanthemums. At the end of the day, the boy stops to buy dinner. As Lunzi leans “against the brick wall with a sigh,” she spots a whoosh of yellow and fills with hope. Robeson introduces readers to basic Mandarin (in romanized pinyin) with the simple refrain “one, two; yi, er” and words like “jie” and “bao.” However, the uneven text—at times lyrical, at times faltering—fails to evoke either Lunzi’s anxiety to find her friend or the buzz and bustle of big city Beijing. Furthermore, Wu’s muted pencil illustrations, while detailed with people and fanciful architecture, don’t pop on the page.

Exploring Beijing from a bicycle’s point of view: a unique concept that doesn’t live up to its potential.