A name that was a plum tree
Most names mean something dull, or nothing at all. This one means a plum tree — an actual tree, with fruit on it, standing somewhere in the story before anybody thought to write it down.
The character is 李. In China it is one of the oldest and most-carried surnames in the world, and it travels: Li on the mainland, Lee in Hong Kong and Taiwan and everywhere the diaspora went, Lý in Vietnam, Yi and Rhee in Korea. The tradition behind it is a story about hunger — a fugitive son who survived on plums and took the tree's name in thanks — and the philosopher Laozi is remembered as its founding ancestor.
Amazing‑lee
Here is the part that started as a joke and refused to stay one. English turns a quality into an action by hanging -ly on the end of it — and out loud, -ly is just lee. Amazing becomes amazing‑lee. The word stops describing what a thing is and starts describing how something is done.
Adjectives sit still. Adverbs get up and do something. So the name turns out to be the working end of the word — the piece that takes whatever it's attached to and puts it into motion, with more range than it had a syllable earlier.
The book is being written — the tree, the hundred million people, and the joke that turned out to have a point. When there are pages worth reading, they will appear here, one stage at a time, in the open.
The rest of the shelf
The Silver Lining Cure — four books teaching emotional regulation through breath, free to read online — along with the other titles moving through the family's publishing pipeline.