In Pearl Buck in China (reviewed on p. 100), Hilary Spurling examines the interplay of Buck's Chinese upbringing (as the daughter of missionaries) and her writing.

You have said there are imponderables in your subjects' lives—what was unfathomable about Buck?

The greatest mystery is why she didn't become a great writer. The Good Earth is wonderful—direct, immediate, and so original. When she returned to America, she had a second life as a celebrity, campaigner, and public speaker, and her books became trashier and trashier—sentimental and self-indulgent. She did not have a primarily literary imagination.

Are there things you disliked about Buck?

Her preacher mode, which came out very strongly later in life. She was campaigning for racial, children's, and women's rights 50 years before they were popular. Her writing is strident and didactic. She can get on a very high horse indeed and is no longer funny.

How did you approach writing Buck's biography?

I wanted to shine a very bright and penetrating light on her life in China. Given the hardships of her childhood and the appalling problems she faced, she didn't have a youth. Her mother nourished her imagination with a fantasy of life in America, while China was the real life outside her front door. Her life after she returned to America didn't really interest me.

How would you describe Buck's legacy?

I find it very hard that she's written out of feminist history. Betty Friedan was endorsed by Pearl, who had made many of the same arguments years before. And last November, after being banned by the Communists for decades, she was voted by the Chinese as one of the top international friends of China.

Did the Chinese government help you with your research?

I didn't ask for the government's assistance; I went to China as a private citizen. I visited all the places I could where Pearl had lived. During the Cultural Revolution, the Chinese who knew and liked Pearl were punished, so even though some are alive, I couldn't talk with them. Today's Chinese want to practice their English. Everywhere I went, there would be a twitter of people saying, “Hello, hello,” under their breaths.

What do you read to relax?

When I'm writing, I sequester myself and, in the evening, reread detective stories, often by Dick Francis, Ruth Rendell, or Georges Simenon. At one point in my life, I think I could recite all of Dick Francis by heart.

Who will be the subject of your next biography?

The English novelist Anthony Powell. I think he's a greatly underrated figure. When you read him, you shouldn't work at it. If you pick up one of his novels and don't like it, put it down again, then wait a bit and try another one.—Leanne Ulvang