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When we were sailing back to Yokosuka from Hong Kong, I was definitely in the dumps. Most of my days were spent reading Skippy-san’s posts about his last trip, at least for a while, to his beloved Hong Kong. I was a bit envious that he was having such a good time in what is probably one of my favorite ports, so to occupy my time I stole his idea of getting a HK related book and bought a used copy of The World of Suzie Wong. While I was browsing similar books on Amazon, I stumbled across a book called The Wanchai Chronicles.

It’s a novella written by Svend Christiansen which serves as a sort of cautionary tale about Hong Kong’s famed red light district. The story follows Karl Haugaard, an American venture capitalist who moves to Hong Kong for a new business venture. Karl eventually stumbles into the various girlie bars and clubs in Wanchai and you can get an idea of how that goes. The book is only about 100 pages, so I read it in one sitting. If you should get this book for any reason, do so for the surprising end. I thought it was going to end the same way private dancer, a similar book, had done, but I was wrong. After I finished it, I sat there for like five minutes just feeling horrible about the whole situation…even though it’s a work of fiction.

While I think US Navy Sailors, who are mentioned a few times throughout the book, have it easier because we only stay a short time, I still know my fair share of shipmates who have fallen in love with some of these girls. After my first devastating trip to Thailand, I can attest personally of how easy it is to overlook…or deny the obvious and get involved in whatever way with these sorts of girls. Since we go to Hong Kong quite often, it’s definitely a must read for any Sailor in the Seventh Fleet.

The book was originally posted on a blog with the same title, but it has since been removed. Thanks to the magic of the Interwebs and the Internet Archive “Wayback Machine,” you can still read the entire novella online here. I guess I should include a snippet of the book to whet your appetite, so here’s one of the best:

“Ian Blackwell,” he says. “I recognize you from last week. Welcome back, but be warned—the Big Apple on Sunday can become a difficult habit to break.”

We chat for a while about my first impressions of life in Hong Kong and my brief excursions to Singapore and Bangkok. Ian listens with amusement and eventually volunteers that he is a professor of psychology at one of Hong Kong’s small, private universities.

“The study of human behavior,” I muse. “Wanchai seems like a good place to set up shop for that kind of thing. Although I suspect that most of the behavior is pathological.”

“Actually, my specialty is evolutionary psychology, and yes, there is no shortage of behavioral fodder here. The nature of the relationships formed in a place like this tends to be easy to understand in evolutionary terms; but surprisingly, it’s not what someone in the business would call pathological.”

“So where does the ‘evolutionary’ enter into it?”

“Oh, that refers to the idea that we have a powerful, innate drive to do the things that helped our ancestors get their genes into the next generation,” he says. “Common sense, really, but the effect is sometimes more subtle than you might think. It might, for example, explain part of your motivation for coming here this afternoon.”

“And what about you,” I scoff. “Just exactly what kind of research are you conducting in the Big Apple?”

“Field work.” He smiles. “But look around. Wanchai is fascinating because it throws together men with the ability to provide resources and girls who are at their peak physiological age to produce babies, but in a context that is unique in terms of social consequences. The fact that most of us are far from our cultural homes means that there are very few externally imposed constraints on our behavior.”

“So, you’re saying our primordial desires emerge in a consequence-free environment like this?”

“Absolutely. But I did not say ‘consequence-free.’ Male and female conflicting aims result in a vicious spiral of treachery and wariness, even if it often assumes the form of soft kisses and sweet endearments. And they explain much of the human drama we all find so entertaining, albeit heartbreaking, here in Wanchai or in places like your Surin Plaza.”

I feel a hand pass lightly across the back of my shoulder, and Tika, pretending to ignore me, tosses her backpack over to the bartender and scampers past me onto the dance floor. Today she has exchanged her tomboy hip-hop cloths for an elegant and colorful Indonesian skirt and jacket, and her friends gather around to admire the effect. After a measured delay, she glances back at me, but then, acting as though she is angry, spins away.

“Ah, the mating dance begins,” murmurs the professor.