Carnett: Pearl S. Buck even more profound today

I first became aware of her work in 1961 as a Costa Mesa High School senior.

An English class assignment required that I read what critics considered her greatest novel, “The Good Earth.”

I knew nothing about her in ’61 except that she was a lady of distinction and advancing years. She was 69 — a year younger than I am today.

“Wow, and she can still write?” I mused as I cracked open Chapter 1 of “The Good Earth” –- at age 16.

I’m speaking, of course, of novelist Pearl S. Buck. Miss Buck died in 1973, just days shy of her 81st birthday.

She continued to write well into her 70s, and now, decades later, I ask myself: “Does anyone remember her or, more importantly, care about her work?”

Is she still being read? I hope so.

I saw pictures of her when I first read her book in high school. She appeared to be a rather severe woman, with a gray mane brushed back and penned into a bun at the top of her skull; a broad forehead; the slightest hint of a shy smile; a prominent nose; and deep, expressive eyes.

She was born to Southern Presbyterian missionaries in Hillsboro, W.V., but spent her first 40 years in China. During her lengthy career, she wrote more than 70 books. Many of her novels were set in exotic locales like China, Korea, Burma and Japan.

Buck’s novels explored in lavish detail the differences between East and West. Frequently, they centered on hardships encountered by impoverished people during times of social upheaval.

“The Good Earth,” her second novel, was published in 1931 and became an instant bestseller. It won a Pulitzer Prize. Less than a decade later she received a Nobel Prize in literature.

In the fall of 1966, I was a 21-year-old American soldier stationed near Seoul, South Korea. I’d been in country for 13 months out of an 18-month tour of duty.

It was my first overseas assignment, and I immersed myself in this unique and fascinating land. Somewhat smugly, I thought I knew all there was to know about Korean culture, history and art.

Buck schooled me in a lecture I attended.

The service club on my compound hosted her presentation. She was then spending considerable time in Korea and a year earlier had established an orphanage there.

In 1949 she founded Welcome House, an international organization that on the heels of World War II aided mixed-race children. The military outfit that I was assigned to in Korea supported such an orphanage, and we regularly delivered food and supplies to the kids. I was deeply moved each time we drove inside the gate. The children would mob our Jeep and overwhelm us with hugs.

A hack writer myself, I wanted to hear what she had to say about the writing process when I attended her lecture in 1966.

She was 74 and a charmer — formal but approachable. She discussed her work, including “The Good Earth” and a relatively recent historical novel about Korea, “Living Reed.” It was published in 1963, and Buck called it her finest work.

I purchased a copy after the lecture and devoured it over the next few days. I came to appreciate the rich heritage of the Korean people who surrounded me daily as I went about my military duties.

I also learned much about the peninsula’s rugged and beautiful landscape, which, over the past 4,000 years, has contributed dramatically to the resilience of the Korean people.

I reread “Living Reed” last week, 50 years later, and was moved even more this time than last. Maybe I’ve finally grown up.

Lost in its epilogue was this observation by Buck: “Brave young American men climbed the rugged slopes of Korean mountains and fought in homesickness and desperate weariness for … reasons they scarcely understood.

“Let the past be forgot, except for what it teaches for the future.”

Pearl S. Buck continues to teach today.

JIM CARNETT, who lives in Costa Mesa, worked for Orange Coast College for 37 years.