Evan R. Anderson

I began studying Thai when I was 19 years old. For a country boy fresh off a dairy farm in southern Idaho, everything about Thailand seemed exotic and wonderful. Although the decision to study Thai wasn't motivated by personal interest—initially, my purpose in learning the language was to fulfill a missionary assignment from my parents' church—I became immediately fascinated with all things Thai. Except, that is, for the climate: Thailand is too hot and humid for my long-term comfort. Even so, after retiring I hope to spend a couple of months each year in Thailand doing volunteer work at an AIDS hospice or teaching English at a Buddhist monastery.

As soon as I returned home from Thailand, I immediately began studying Mandarin Chinese. Because the influence of the culture of China is so ubiquitous throughout all of east Asia, I felt that I couldn't genuinely understand the people of the region without a thorough appreciation of China. I took one semester of beginning Mandarin, then caught a flight to Taiwan where I spent the next year making myself at home among some of the most wonderful people on earth while immersing myself in a truly fascinating language and culture. To this day, Taipei is one of my favorite cities. In fact, if I had to leave Seattle, Taipei is probably where I'd choose to go.

When I accepted my first job out of college, my new employer gave me the opportunity to study Shan, a language spoken by some three to six million people in the northeast corner of Myanmar. In language and culture, the Shan are much more closely related to the Thai than the Burmese, but centuries of conquest and colonialism have left them a part of Myanmar rather than Thailand. Not all Shan are happy with that status and it's not uncommon for armed conflict to occur between the military forces of Myanmar and those who'd like to see an independent Shan state. Perhaps best known in the west as the world's second largest producer of illicit opium, Shan state is filled with beautiful mountains and engaging people.

I love to write! I'm currently working on the second draft of my first book—the first draft having earned me a number of rejection notices from publishers. I hope to have this latest draft completed and ready for submission to potential publishers in early 2017. Set primarily in Taiwan, the book tells the story of a brash young American student, an aspiring economist, who travels to Taipei certain that he can improve Western capitalism by mitigating its darker side with the traditional ethics of Confucianism. An outsider in a culture as dedicated to its past as it is enthusiastic about its future, a stranger among people wary of foreigners with all the answers, this young man quickly discovers that most of what he knows about life, love, and liberty is wrong. Overcoming a cruel betrayal, abandoning his myopic certitude, he finally opens his eyes to a world no longer limited by geography and ideology, a community increasingly uncomfortable with oppression and exploitation, and a friendship deepened by asymmetry and adaptation. This transformation radically alters his understanding of evil, convincing him that virtually everyone is capable of malevolence, none more so than those who are certain of their own personal goodness.

I have two additional ideas for books that I hope to begin developing as soon as I'm finished with the first. Whether or not I ever manage to convince an established publisher to promote my books, I'm sure to have a wonderful time writing them!

An avid kayaker, I am currently preparing for my first grand adventure on the water: a week-long excursion around Whidbey Island. I've got a lot of work to do before this trip—currently I have neither the necessary skill nor the physical conditioning—but hope to be ready by late summer 2018.

What I like most about kayaking is the opportunity it gives me to enjoy time alone with nature. I especially like watching the bald eagles standing majestically on driftwood or surveying their domain from large boulders at the water's edge. Perhaps the most extraordinary creature I've seen from my kayak is a gray whale. I couldn't have been closer than 200 yards to this whale when he breached the water's surface, but he was so huge I felt as though I could almost reach out and touch him. One of these days, I'd love to spend a summer kayaking the inside passage from Anacortes to Anchorage.