21st century exoticism: David Mitchell's "Ghostwritten"

I went on a short vacation recently, and actually had time to read a book for fun -- a rarity these days, as I continue work on my thesis.

Anyhow, I started "Ghostwritten" by David Mitchell. He's British, judging by the language, and apparently spent some time in Asia, either as a backpacker or expat. He's a good writer, but as I soon learned, spending time in other countries does not necessarily equal a great understanding of local societies. At best he is a great storyteller with a talent for writing dialogue and working with small details. At worst he applies Western cultural norms to Asian characters (such as in the "Tokyo" chapter) and uses exoticism in the chapters relating to China. An example is this encounter involving a British expat lawyer in Hong Kong, taking a stroll on Victoria Peak:

Suddenly a pile of cans next to the stall moved and barked something in Chinese. A face caked in grease and creased with age emerged and looked at me with loathing. I jumped out of my skin. The stall-holder laughed, and said, "Don't worry. He's harmless."

The garbage man growled, and repeated the same words, slowly, and louder, at me.

"What's he saying?"

"He's begging."

"How much does he want?" A stupid question.

"He's not begging for money."

"What's he begging for?"

"He's begging for time."

"Why does he do that?"

"He thinks you're wasting yours, so you must have plenty to spare."

Up to this point (page 95) I was teetering on whether to continue the book, but this bit of dialogue convinced me it probably wasn't worth it. I halfheartedly read one more chapter -- about a Sichuanese tea stall owner living next to a magical tree and calling all foreigners "foreign devils" -- and then gave it up, in favor of a pop history tome: Stephen Ambrose's book about the transcontinental railroad.

And I wasn't able to finish that one before vacation ended. Some day, when my thesis wraps up ...