From The Great Gatsby to Crazy Rich Asians, stories about privilege and why we love them
Part of what makes novels so appealing is how they allow us to step into the lives of others.
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This allows us to not only escape the real world – like in science fiction and fantasy – but also to see the real world through a new lens. To see – to feel and experience – what it is like to live a completely different life, even if only for a moment.
This is why many people are drawn to stories of the rich and famous, people whose lives seem so far out of reach.
But what these stories reveal, more often than not, is how similar their experiences feel. Yes, they may attend extravagant galas, live in luxurious mansions and fly on private aeroplanes, but underneath they are still human. And readers find they share many of the same feelings and motivations, the same flaws and fears.
A still from the 2018 movie adaptation of Kevin Kwan's novel Crazy Rich Asians. Photo: Warner Bros. Pictures
The following six volumes – both novels and short story collections, modern and historical – dive into the lives of the rich and the privileged. By exploring their lives these authors reveal something much deeper. Something we might call 'humanity'.
1. Crazy Rich Asians by Kevin Kwan
When Rachel Chu, a Chinese-American economics professor, travels to Singapore with her boyfriend, Nick Young, for his best friend's wedding, she is surprised to learn that Nick's family is incredibly wealthy and one of the most influential in Asia.
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Asia Times
2 days ago
- Asia Times
Eternal Queen of Asian Pop's last encore from beyond the grave
Several years ago, an employee at Universal Music came across a cassette tape in a Tokyo warehouse while sorting through archival materials. On it was a recording by the late Taiwanese pop star Teresa Teng that had never been released; the pop ballad, likely recorded in the mid-1980s while Teng was living and performing in Japan, was a collaboration between composer Takashi Miki and lyricist Toyohisa Araki. Now, to the delight of her millions of fans, the track titled 'Love Songs Are Best in the Foggy Night' will appear on an album set to be released on June 25, 2025. Teng died 30 years ago. Most Westerners know little about her life and her body of work. Yet the ballads of Teng, who could sing in Mandarin, Cantonese, Japanese and Indonesian, continue to echo through karaoke rooms, on Spotify playlists, at tribute concerts and at family gatherings across Asia and beyond. I study how pop music has served as a tool of soft power, and I've spent the past several years researching Teng's music and its legacy. I've found that Teng's influence endures not just because of her voice, but also because her music transcends Asia's political fault lines. Born in 1953 in Yunlin, Taiwan, Teresa Teng grew up in one of the many villages that were built to house soldiers and their families who had fled mainland China in 1949 after the Communists claimed victory in the Chinese civil war. Her early exposure to traditional Chinese music and opera laid the foundation for her singing career. By age 6, she was taking voice lessons. She soon began winning local singing competitions. 'It wasn't adults who wanted me to sing,' Teng wrote in her memoir. 'I wanted to sing. As long as I could sing, I was happy.' At 14, Teng dropped out of high school to focus entirely on music, signing with the local label Yeu Jow Records. Soon thereafter, she released her first album, 'Fengyang Flower Drum.' In the 1970s, she toured and recorded across Taiwan, Hong Kong, Japan and Southeast Asia, becoming one of Asia's first truly transnational pop stars. Teng's career flourished in the late 1970s and 1980s. She released some of her most iconic tracks, such as her covers of Chinese singer Zhou Xuan's 1937 hit 'When Will You Return?' and Taiwanese singer Chen Fen-lan's 'The Moon Represents My Heart,' and toured widely across Asia, sparking what came to be known as 'Teresa Teng Fever.' In the early 1990s, Teng was forced to stop performing for health reasons. She died suddenly of an asthma attack on May 8, 1995, while on vacation in Chiang Mai, Thailand, at the age of 42. Perhaps the most remarkable aspect of Teng's story is that Teng Fever peaked in China. Teng was ethnically Chinese, with ancestral roots in China's Shandong province. But the political divide between China and Taiwan following the Chinese civil war had led to decades of hostility, with each side refusing to recognize the legitimacy of the other. During the late 1970s and 1980s, however, China began to relax its political control under Deng Xiaoping's Reform and Opening Up policy. This sweeping initiative shifted China toward a market-oriented economy, encouraged foreign trade and investment and cautiously reintroduced global cultural influences after decades of isolation. Pop music from other parts of the world began trickling in, including Teng's tender ballads. Her songs could be heard in coastal provinces such as Guangdong and Shanghai, inland cities such as Beijing and Tianjin, and even in remote regions such as Tibet. Shanghai's propaganda department wrote an internal memo in 1980 noting that her music had spread to the city's public parks, restaurants, nursing homes and wedding halls. Teng's immense popularity in China was no accident; it reflected a time in the country's history when its people were particularly eager for emotionally resonant art after decades of cultural propaganda and censorship. For a society that had been awash in rote, revolutionary songs like 'The East is Red' and 'Union is Strength,' Teng's music offered something entirely different. It was personal, tender and deeply human. Her gentle, approachable style – often described as 'angelic' or like that of 'a girl next door' – provided solace and a sense of intimacy that had long been absent from public life. Teng's music was also admired for her ability to bridge eras. Her 1983 album 'Light Exquisite Feeling' fused classical Chinese poetry with contemporary Western pop melodies, showcasing her gift for blending the traditional and the modern. It cemented her reputation not just as a pop star but as a cultural innovator. It's no secret why audiences across China and Asia were so deeply drawn to her and her music. She was fluent in multiple languages; she was elegant but humble, polite and relatable; she was involved in various charities; and she spoke out in support of democratic values. Throughout the 1990s and early 2000s, the Chinese immigrant population in the United States grew to over 1.1 million. Teng's music has also deeply embedded itself within Chinese diasporic communities across the country. In cities such as Los Angeles, San Francisco and New York, Chinese immigrants played her music at family gatherings, during holidays and at community events. Walk through any Chinatown during Lunar New Year and you're bound to hear her voice wafting through the streets. Teng visits New York City's Chinatown during her 1980 concert tour in the U.S. Wikimedia Commons For younger Chinese Americans and even non-Chinese audiences, Teng's music has become a window into Chinese culture. When I was studying in the US, I often met Asian American students who belted out her songs at karaoke nights or during cultural festivals. Many had grown up hearing her music through their parents' playlists or local community celebrations. The release of her recently discovered song is a reminder that some voices do not fade – they evolve, migrate and live on in the hearts of people scattered across the world. In an age when global politics drive different cultures apart, Teng's enduring appeal reminds us of something quieter yet more lasting: the power of voice to transmit emotion across time and space, the way a melody can build a bridge between continents and generations. I recently rewatched the YouTube video for Teng's iconic 1977 ballad 'The Moon Represents My Heart.' As I read the comments section, one perfectly encapsulated what I had discovered about Teresa Teng in my own research: 'Teng's music opened a window to a culture I never knew I needed.' Xianda Huang is a PhD student in Asian languages and cultures, University of California, Los Angeles. This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
South China Morning Post
2 days ago
- South China Morning Post
Why Jimmy O. Yang ‘feels like Blackpink', and his rise from Uber driver to king of comedy
Back in 2014, between the first and second seasons of the HBO comedy series Silicon Valley in which he had a supporting role, Jimmy O. Yang spent his days moonlighting as an Uber driver. Advertisement The Hong Kong-born Hollywood hopeful used a pay cheque for his role in the series as Jian-Yang – he received the Screen Actors Guild minimum of US$900 a day – to buy a used Toyota Prius hybrid, which he would drive around Los Angeles to earn the money to pay his rent. 'You never know, especially as an actor, where your next pay cheque comes from,' he tells the Post. Only when he was promoted to a series regular did he finally feel he had the safety net he had long desired. 'At least now all my rent will be paid for,' he recalls thinking. Fast forward a decade and O. Yang has achieved the rarefied success that eludes many Asian actors in Hollywood . It was a long time coming. Jimmy O. Yang as Jian-Yang in Silicon Valley. Photo: HBO Towards the end of Silicon Valley's run, he appeared as the scene-stealing Bernard Tai in Crazy Rich Asians (2018). Three years later, he starred as the main love interest in Love Hard, and finally became number one on the call sheet for the action comedy series Interior Chinatown, which premiered last year on Hulu and Disney+ to rave reviews. Advertisement At the same time, his stand-up comedy tours – clips from O. Yang's Amazon Prime specials Good Deal (2020) and Guess How Much? (2023) have gone viral – catapulted O. Yang into the social media spotlight.
South China Morning Post
04-06-2025
- South China Morning Post
Meet #RichTok influencer Skyelar Chase: the Columbia U student is blowing up thanks to her lavish lifestyle, from trips on private jets and stays at Aman, to rocking head-to-toe Chloé at Coachella
A new wave of influencers is taking over social media platforms such as TikTok and Instagram. Gone are the days of Charli D'Amelio and Addison Rae , who earned their internet fame and fortune through dancing or dramatically lip-synching to the hottest song of the week. These days, the internet has turned its attention to the likes of Becca Bloom , Mei Leung, and Chloe L. who, youth and beauty aside, have two things in common – they're rich and they're Asian. Skyelar Chase has become a popular influencer on TikTok's #RichTok subculture. Photo: @skyelarchase/Instagram Dubbed the Crazy Rich Asians by #RichTok, a TikTok subculture that celebrates 'old money' culture and affluence, these ladies have built impressive followings on social media by unapologetically flashing the opulent lifestyles they were born into. The most recent addition to the internet's list of favourite rich Asians is Skyelar Chase. Here is everything you need to know. She's a student at Columbia University Skyelar Chase is a student at Columbia University. Photo: @skyelarchase/Instagram Advertisement Per Chase's Instagram, the influencer is a student at Columbia University. A day in the life for the internet personality includes waking up in her luxury hotel suite and primping for quick photoshoots – with Victoria's Secret no less – in between classes. 'You're like the literal Blair Waldorf/Serena van der Woodsen in NYC and I'm livinggggg for it,' one follower commented on an Instagram video of Chase getting ready for the day, referencing the beloved teen drama Gossip Girl Private jets and expensive holidays are par for the course in her life Skyelar Chase's lavish lifestyle includes trips on private jets and stays at Aman hotels. Photo: @skyelarchase/Instagram While it's unclear who Chase's parents are, it's obvious that they travel in style. Family holidays for the socialite mean private planes, Rimowa luggage , and being ferried around in Cadillac Escalades. Family getaways aside, Chase can be spotted lounging in Aman hotels across the globe or wearing head-to-toe designer gear at fashion week. At Coachella this year, she stunned in a full Chloé look. Unlike fellow #Richtok influencer Becca Bloom, whose outfits are often elevated and corporate, Chase's outfits tend to be more relaxed (though still exorbitant in price). Skyelar Chase has her own fashion company
