The Years of Rice and Salt. The sound of it conjures up images of cheap Chinese restaurants – restaurants that try to be authentic, but are filled with red paper lanterns hanging from the roofs, young women speaking in Chinese accents before running off to talk to their Afrikaans boyfriends and food dripping with oil.

I have never been to Asia, so my introduction to eastern culture was through Chinese, Indian and Thai restaurants that horde all the kitsch faux-authentic items onto every surface. Even though I knew that this was not the real Asia, the bold colours and the fragrant spices still enticed me. I wanted to know more! And so I started reading.

I know little about reincarnation, and little about religion. The novels that I have read over the years have provided me with a sense of Asian culture, but not with the details. Kim Stanley Robinson provides that same sense of culture, but mixes it with a web of knowledge. The Years of Rice and Salt is a melting pot of knowledge about eastern religions.

The first book of the novel begins in about 1405 A.D. after most of Europe has been wiped out by the Black Plague. The reader is introduced to six characters, most of Asian decent, and the nine books that follow tell the tales of their reincarnation into different religions and different parts of the world. The reader first meets Kyu, for example, as an African slave aboard a Chinese ship and follows his story as he is reincarnated as Kya, a tiger who decides to help a lost man or Katima, a Sultana who attempts to change the Islamic religion to be more accepting of women.

I found myself relating to the characters in a number of ways because of this constant changing. With each philosophical question that was asked, I found myself questioning my culture and my history. Each time that details of religion were mentioned, I found myself looking at my own religion, and comparing it to that of the characters.

I would often get so involved in the book, that I would forget where I was until some sound or movement brought me out of the fantasy world and back to reality. I could imagine that I lived through those different times in history, that I had those experiences, that perhaps I, myself, was a reincarnated spirit. Maybe that is why, when I go to Chinese, Indian and Thai restaurants, I scorn the decorations that adorn the walls, ceilings and tables. Perhaps it is because I have known the real Asia, far back in my history, and appreciate its true beauty rather than the falsity that these restaurants provide.