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The China that Chris Taylor has chosen to represent in his debut novel, “Harvest Season,” has nothing to do with the current Western obsession with the country as an economic dragon, a rising superpower of teeming cities where the streets are paved with easy money.

Taylor’s China is a world away from the well-beaten track, tucked in a mountain valley where glittering lakes meet the wide-open sky and fresh air rushes down from the icy peaks. The story unfolds in a small village called Shuangshan where a group of expatriates and Chinese artists share a slow-paced, Shangri-La existence among the native (fictional) Wu minority and the only air pollution comes in the form of thick clouds of ganja smoke.

As idyllic as the setting appears, it is not immune to the tensions that can arise when East meets West. In this case, however, the inevitable tragic explosion happens to be set against the majestic backdrop of a hidden mountain valley.

The story’s narrator and main character is Matt, a guidebook writer turned slacker, who seems to be searching for a place to take refuge from the rat race “called progress.” In addition to consuming large quantities of pot and beer, Matt has made use of his time living as an expat in Shuangshan as an opportunity step off the racing treadmill of modern life.

He realizes that sooner or later he’s going to have to step back on the machine, but Shuangshan’s “snow-capped peaks, white cotton bedding and the best sleep of my life” have lulled him into a stupor and are not making the decision to eventually leave the town any easier.

“In Shuangshan everything was different,” Matt muses in the book’s opening chapter. “As if its very existence was proof of the truth of an oft-quoted Chinese saying: ‘The mountains are high, the emperor is far away.’ ”

His decision is about to be made for him, however, by an abrasive Australian named Alex who blows into the isolated village.

Alex shows up bragging about big plans to open a guesthouse that will attract the type of hard-partying travelers more often found roaming the beaches of Thailand in search of fire dancing, cold beer and easy access to designer drugs.

Matt knows the plan is unlikely to go down well with the locals. Adding to the potential for conflict, he finds himself instantly attracted to Alex’s dreadlocked Chinese girlfriend, A-hong.

From that point on, a seed of disharmony is planted in the lives of Matt, his artist friends and the local villagers.

Taylor does an expert job of introducing slivers of discontent into the plot and building on them until, almost imperceptibly, everything becomes tainted by a palpable sense of dread.

Anyone who has spent time traveling the backpacking circuit will instantly recognize the characters among Matt’s group of friends and will likely identify with the creeping feeling known to many travelers who find themselves in an uncomfortable situation in a foreign land.

The book has garnered comparisons to Alex Garland’s “The Beach,” and these are not without merit. But the difference is that the threat and conflict in “Harvest Season” ultimately comes from outside the traveling expat community, which somehow makes it more unpredictable and harder to fully grasp.

Taylor teases the situation out, skillfully building on the looming feeling of dread in a way that is at once imminently tangible and yet strangely hard to pinpoint. It’s like stumbling upon a quick glimpse into a back room where you think something horrible and sinister is happening, only to suddenly realize that you are all alone and very far from home.

Having lived in Asia for the majority of his adult life, Taylor is fluent in Mandarin and well-suited when it comes to offering a portrayal of modern China that rings true from top to bottom. His background as a guidebook writer for Lonely Planet and later as an Asia-based freelance journalist only adds to the authenticity of the story.

But what really sets Taylor apart from the scores of other writers scrambling to add their two cents to the growing reams dedicated to the country is his easy grasp of modern Chinese society and psyche.

It’s a nuanced area that puts most English-language authors on shaky ground, but Taylor is right at home here, navigating the shifting enigma and subtle subtext of Chinese society with a deft and natural touch.

The result is a rare Western take on China that turns the typical “economic miracle” and “rising superpower” angle on its head. It’s also what ultimately makes “Harvest Season” succeed as a glimpse into Chinese society, a morality tale and finally, a page-turning read, racing toward a bloody climax.