Does Read = Write?

Stumbled upon this book by accident, called SHANGHAI BABY by Wei Hui, a mainland woman writer from China and I am hooked. My only problem with reading is that I could not seem to finish a book in one go, or most of the time, I left it unfinished. How shameful I am to compare myself with my hubby, a person who loves book very dearly and will never get tired of reading them. If I were to keep track of the books he had read so far, I would probably go insane by now, and I dream of becoming a writer myself, how pathetic this is. I believe writing has to be with passion and feeling, and it has to be felt, most of all, has to be real to yourself. Wei Hui seems to have that sort of talent with words. They are as beautiful as the fingers touching the fragrants of ink flowing from within and they stay in your mind and linger on your subconscience. Subtitly and crudeness do not always look good when they come hand in hand, but it does for this woman. I am amazed by the truthfulness in her storytelling. No wonder it was banned and burnt in China. Provocativeness *is there such a word* in a woman is as rare as a gem stone falling from the sky raining vanilla. I am determined to take this book till the end.